“Is this the restaurant’s specialty?” Morris asked, eyes sweeping the splattered subpar cream on the floor—oil and water oozing out, carrying a faint sour tang. He lifted his gaze to Dirk’s face, where fear deepened by the second. “Or a new dish Mr. Dirk crafted just for Miss Glenwyr? And… what exactly is your position, Mr. Dirk?”

“He’s the supervisor, sir,” Glenwyr said, leaning on Sherlock as she struggled upright. With visible effort, she raised a trembling finger toward Dirk. Her words came slow, yet heavy and clear: “Mr. Dirk was the supervisor who hired me.”

“Quite a senior role,” Morris remarked, shifting his gaze from them back to Dirk and Kaiser. “Second only to the owner. Meaning—you can, barely, speak for this entire restaurant.”

Dirk’s legs began to tremble.

Reputation was everything for a restaurant. If this so-called “specialty” got exposed, the damage would be crippling. Far worse than the scandal of colluding with a noble lady to bully a commoner—at least they could stop serving commoners. But he’d just denied that option himself!

The owner was his uncle. That’s how he’d landed the supervisor post. If the restaurant’s name was ruined under his watch… he’d never show his face in the family again.

*Why did I agree?* Dirk nearly slapped himself. She’d offered only half a month’s salary to bully one girl—why had he been tempted?!

“Did bullying that girl feel good, Mr. Dirk?” Morris’s voice cut through. Dirk jerked his head up. The boy spoke slowly, a faint smile playing on his lips. His eyes held an uncanny clarity—as if he’d read Dirk’s mind. “Have you considered the price?”

This restaurant thrived on young nobles near the academy—young, generous spenders, and fiercely gossip-prone. If this leaked… reputation? Business would plummet straight to rock bottom. All his uncle’s years of hard work—shattered by his own hands. *This* was the price Morris meant.

Dirk shot Kaiser a resentful glare. Catching it, her face paled further. Morris alone terrified her; Dirk’s near-confession was the final straw. Words failed her. She clutched her folding fan and took a half-step back.

Bored of waiting, Morris pulled a nearby chair and sat. The back bore a smooth, well-worn patina—a quiet mark of a restaurant worthy of Helsing City’s central district. It stirred a memory: glass-skinned skyscrapers and elevated trains weaving an invisible wall. Behind it, suited figures rushed endlessly. As a boy riding pillion on his mother’s scooter to school, Morris would stare across the street—at that realm of glass and steel, wrapped in the savory scents of KFC and McDonald’s, glittering with treasures. A holy land he could never enter.

“Um… may I ask your name?” A voice broke through. Morris turned. Glenwyr. Her eyes burned bright—weak in body, fierce in spirit.

“Morris,” he replied. “Need to rest?”

“No…” She glanced at Sherlock, whose face showed confusion. But her resolve held. “Mr. Morris… please. Take me home.”

“Hm?” Morris frowned. His gaze flickered between stunned Dirk and Kaiser, and Sherlock supporting Glenwyr. He stood, stepped close. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Glenwyr smiled faintly, radiant in the window light. Dried blood streaked her forehead; hair disheveled. Beneath her rumpled uniform, her chest rose—and it was hard not to notice the light blue underwear beneath. “Please… take me home.”

Sherlock, catching Morris’s glance, muttered and draped his jacket over her shoulders.

Dirk’s mouth opened, silent. He knew: after this, *he’d* be ruined. Kaiser? She’d swagger back to the academy—cherished daughter, social fixture, untouchable. He’d lose everything: reputation, business, standing.

“…Alright.” Morris shifted the chair aside and gently took Glenwyr’s arm. Sherlock released her. As they reached the door, Morris paused, turned back to Dirk. “After I enroll,” he said calmly, “I’ll be back.”

The words detonated in the silent restaurant.

Gasps rippled through the young nobles. *An incoming freshman?!* This strong before enrollment? The top rank was practically sealed! Such unmatched wizard talent—he had to be from a major house!

But Kaiser stood frozen. *Him. Entering the academy. Him—this genius who despised her.* Panic clawed up her throat. *Family connections… can’t cancel exams, but swapping test questions? Possible.* Relief flickered. *Threaten me, freshman? You’ll never set foot in this academy.*

She turned to her friends, patted her chest with a triumphant smile. But their faces fell. Apologies mumbled, flimsy excuses made—they slipped out the back door one by one.

“Mr. Dirk—” Kaiser gritted her teeth, seeking an anchor. But Dirk bolted without a word, vanishing outside.

Only the wind chime’s soft jingle remained.

Alone. No one to speak to. No one to lean on. She turned her head. Whispers curled around her.

Everyone was talking. About *her*. Horror twisted her features. “Don’t… please, don’t…”

Never before had she been the laughingstock of all.

She fled toward the back door, heart screaming a vow: *Today—I will make sure Morris never passes the academy entrance exam.*

Never!!!