A lavish dinner. Fine wine.

Candlelight flickered across the table, warming the guildmaster’s office with a gentle, cozy glow.

Noah studied the massive table nearly swallowing the room’s empty space. He didn’t reach for food right away. Instead, he turned curiously toward Monica, whose smile remained unwavering.

He’d pored over the guild’s ledgers again and again, double-checking every figure.

Under their steadily worsening finances, the Azure Round Table shouldn’t afford such luxury.

So even though Noah was starving—having swallowed his saliva four or five times while eyeing the fish, cheese, and bread—he held back. He had every reason to suspect these dishes came from shady dealings…

Or worse: illusion magic. What looked like roasted meat might really be splintered wood, hard stones, withered leaves, or even loose soil from Shirley’s garden.

Whether stolen goods or magical trickery, both possibilities made Noah hesitate.

“Your concern is unnecessary,” Monica said, as if reading his mind. She lifted a wineglass, swirled it smoothly, and took a delicate sip. “These foods are perfectly legitimate. I have work elsewhere—I simply advanced one month’s pay.”

Noah’s eyebrows lifted. He hadn’t expected Monica to spend ahead.

And she had another job?

“You’re… working somewhere else?” he asked.

“In a way,” she replied with a mysterious smile, offering no further explanation.

Noah knew pressing would yield nothing. He filed the thought away.

The money’s source was settled.

Now, the motive.

“Why do this?”

He still didn’t fully grasp her reasoning—but he reached for a bread roll anyway, tore off a small piece, and chewed.

Might as well eat. The food was already here.

And the bread was even better than expected. A subtle sweetness and rich fermented aroma flooded his mouth. Its softness nearly brought tears to his eyes after days of tough dried meat—like a time traveler from antiquity tasting civilization for the first time.

As Noah savored this culinary awakening, Monica set down her glass. Her wine-stained lips parted, releasing a faint, intoxicating scent.

“The reward for clearing Floor Five is substantial. Not enough to erase all our debts, but enough to noticeably improve our guild’s life. It’s worth celebrating.”

Noah picked up his knife and fork, slicing into a steak. “We haven’t cleared Floor Five yet. And who sells ingredients this late? Did you buy these this morning?”

“Yes,” Monica admitted plainly. “Right after you left for The Spire with Anna and the others. I prepared this to welcome our victorious guildmaster home.”

Noah popped a sauce-drenched bite into his mouth, eyes narrowing slightly—whether in pleasure or suspicion. “Sounds like you were certain we’d succeed.”

Monica returned a radiant smile. “I will always believe in your wisdom and courage.”

“…”

Was this popping champagne at halftime?

No—she’d uncorked it before the game even began.

Monica added softly, “Truthfully, even if obstacles had delayed you, I knew a good meal would restore your spirit for another attempt.”

Her words sounded like faith—but to Noah, they felt hollow.

From the start, Monica had shown near-blind loyalty.

No matter his choice, she’d nod in agreement.

Absolute trust was comforting… yet Noah sensed something hidden beneath it. Something extreme.

Either profoundly good—or dangerously bad.

He slid another steak slice into his mouth, savoring the burst of sauce and juice, face unreadable. “I need to ask—back then, did you…”

He trailed off.

Footsteps scuffled outside the door.

Shirley of the Avianwing Clan burst in, fatigue vanished, replaced by ravenous hunger. She lunged to Noah’s side, pressing close, eyes sparkling. “Fries! Shirley smells fries!”

Noah glanced at the table—and spotted a bowl of golden fries tucked in the corner.

Monica had clearly remembered Shirley’s favorite.

His question forgotten, Noah chuckled wryly, gently pushing the drooling girl away. “Your nose beats my eyes any day… Wipe your chin. It’s dripping.”

Shirley obediently wiped her mouth, then instinctively reached for fries—

—but paused. She sat neatly beside him. “Guildmaster… Shirley’s hungry. Is it time to eat?”

Noah blinked in mild surprise. *She’s more disciplined than I thought.*

Even with fries right there, she suppressed her craving to seek his permission.

That meant his word held unusual weight in her eyes.

“No need to starve,” Noah said lightly. “Eat what you want. I can’t finish all this alone.”

“Yay!”

Shirley shot two meters into the air—only the sturdy ceiling saving her from a crater.

Landing, she dashed to the fries, savoring each one with joyful reverence.

Noah had half-expected her to peck them like a real bird. No such comedy unfolded—she ate like a human, dipping each fry carefully.

Heartbreakingly, she chewed each strip slowly, grinding it nearly to paste before swallowing.

She truly loved fries. And rarely had them. The Azure Round Table had been too poor for feasts like this—how many times had such a meal happened in years?

After Shirley settled in, Pascal and Anna entered the office.

As key contributors to today’s climb, they’d been notified by Monica. Rested and ravenous, hunger pulled them here.

“Scoot over~” Anna nudged Noah aside, plopped onto the sofa, sighed in relief, then snatched the entire fish platter.

Noah opened his mouth to scold her—but Anna clutched the plate, baring her teeth playfully. “I died *multiple times* today! Can’t I have one selfish bite?”

Noah flicked her forehead. “If your Ritual Magic actually worked, we wouldn’t drown in bills. We’d eat like this every day.”

“Not my fault!” Anna rubbed her head, watching him reclaim the fish, pouting. “It’s the Goddess of Death! She’s just jealous of me…”

“I’d love to let the rest of her followers hear that blasphemy.”

Noah calmly portioned the fish into five neat servings. He gave three to Monica, Shirley, and Pascal.

The portion meant for himself? He slid the untouched plate back to Anna.

“I don’t eat fish.”

Anna blinked, then grinned. “Then I won’t hold back~”

Shaking his head at her shameless cheer, Noah sipped his wine. “So… never considered other magic?”

“Other?” Anna tilted her head, then grimaced. “Boring. All of it. Just thinking about it bores me to death. I’d rather die than use anything else.”

“‘People die when killed’ isn’t a universal rule for you,” Noah noted dryly. “But seriously—did you even try?”

Anna chomped happily. “Yep. Failed.”

Noah paused. “Other magic failed too?”

“Yep. I’m bad at it. Theory’s slow. Zero interest.” She swayed contentedly on the sofa. “Quit after a few days. Ritual grimoires are way more fun.”

*Lack of interest plus mediocre talent?*

No wonder she clung to Ritual Magic.

Then again… everyone in the Azure Round Table had their quirks.

Pascal. Shirley.

Noah’s gaze drifted to today’s other hero.

Pascal sat quietly at the table’s far end, tasting each dish with quiet grace. Her appetite was modest—nowhere near Anna’s, Monica’s, or Shirley’s. She’d sampled everything and was already satisfied.

Divine Relics were precious, taxing artifacts.

Yet despite frequent use of the gemstone’s power, she showed no signs of severe fatigue.

Noah had asked in The Spire: does overusing a Divine Relic backlash?

The answer was yes.

Mortals borrowing divine power always pay a price.

Strange, then, that Pascal suffered no harm—only mild mental weariness. Her gemstone necklace left no mark.

Perhaps… her unique physique was the reason.

Her innate affinity for holy light allowed deeper resonance with Kale’s relic.

For now, it was the only explanation.

“Something wrong, Guildmaster?”

Pascal noticed his stare. “Is there something on my face?”

Noah snapped back, smiling faintly. “No. Just thinking… Today finally feels like a real guild.”

Candlelight swayed softly.

Anna leaned against Noah, feigning distraction while eyeing his steak.

Shirley munched fries, clearing other dishes too—her wings slowly unfurling in pure joy.

Monica stood nearby, sipping wine, a serene smile on her lips.

Pascal blinked, then smiled—a quiet, relieved curve of her mouth.

Noah looked around the table. A rare warmth stirred in his chest.

He couldn’t name it. Only knew the restless worry in his heart had stilled.

Maybe this was stability.

People long for home because they crave simplicity. Peace.

“Keep eating,” Noah said, not one for sentiment. He swatted Anna’s sneaky hand away from his steak and added firmly, “Finish up. Tomorrow morning, we head back to The Spire—and clear Floor Five’s trial.”

Anna blinked innocently. “So we’re going tomorrow?”

Noah shot her a glance. “What, don’t you want to use the bonus to buy ritual materials anymore?”

The words “ritual materials” were practically Anna’s Noble Phantasm.

She instantly struck a pose as if ready to sacrifice herself for the greater good, gave her chest a light pat, and declared with unwavering conviction: “Materials? Who cares about materials! What matters is the guild’s honor! Just say the word, Guild Master—how do you want me to ‘die’ tomorrow? Want me to throw in a backbend too?”

Noah’s lips twitched slightly.

Damn it… give me back that warm and fuzzy feeling!