"Ah man, that was so good."
I let out a satisfied burp, wiping my mouth with a handkerchief like a proper gentleman—if gentlemen ever unhinged their jaws at buffets.
Nyx lay sprawled on the table beside me, his stomach comically round and rising like a loaf of bread in the oven.
Honestly, at this point, he looked more pregnant than overfed.
Around us, silence hovered like a cloud of judgment. The noble cadets stared with barely concealed disgust, their expressions ranging from offended to horrified, like I'd just committed a war crime with cutlery.
The commoners, on the other hand? They were quietly cheering me on. Not aloud, of course. But I could see it in their eyes—the subtle smirks, the restrained snickers. I was their shameless champion.
And I wore that title with pride.
Flashing the crowd a charming, unapologetic smile, I turned to make my grand exit, off to claim my reward: a long, glorious nap.
But just as I was about to leave, someone stepped into my path.
