Chapter 276
She asked how heavy a burden she truly represented, to the point that someone she referred to as "that rotten Erietta" could so easily pierce her disguise if she were beside Theo.
The question was not an emotional outburst, but an analytical inquiry.
She was questioning her own effectiveness as a variable, challenging Theo's assumption that her presence was an unavoidable weakness.
Within that calm tone lay a subtle accusation.
Was it Theo's inability to regard her as an equal, or was it in fact his inability to integrate her into the plan?
Theo froze.
The question struck him like a direct blow, landing precisely at the weakest point of his argument.
His mouth opened slightly, yet no words emerged.
His mind, usually quick to assemble explanations, spin scenarios, or even fabricate reasonable excuses, suddenly felt hollow and empty.
Every potential answer that flashed through his thoughts felt like thin paper, ready to tear the moment it was hit by the wind of reality.
Would he say that Aldraya's aura was too unique?
That would sound like misplaced praise.
Would he claim that Erietta was simply too perceptive?
That would only acknowledge the enemy's superiority and their own tactical inadequacy.
Would he admit that he himself lacked the confidence to hide Aldraya properly?
That would be a humiliating confession of defeat.
Every path of thought led to the same conclusion.
There were no words that could change the fundamental fact that, in the end, he had chosen not to bring Aldraya along.
Powerless, Theo's gaze drifted away from the eyes demanding an answer.
His eyes fell upon the empty food bowl in front of him.
The remnants of the now-cold chicken noodle broth formed a thin layer of oil, dimly reflecting the cafeteria lights.
He stared at it with vacant intensity, as if the answer to his tangled dilemma might be found at the bottom of that white ceramic bowl.
The silence surrounding their table grew thick, drowning out the murmured conversations of the other teachers nearby.
He remained still, frozen in that position, utterly bereft of words.
His body felt rigid, trapped between the desire to protect Aldraya from the bitter truth that she was considered a "risk," and the undeniable reality that this was indeed the real reason.
"All right. Thank you for the meal."
Buuuuk!
"Goodbye, Theo."
The silence hanging between them was broken not by words, but by a sudden, meaningful movement.
Aldraya, without uttering another word, reached for a tissue from the box at the center of the table.
Her motion was smooth and efficient, yet it carried a firmness different from her usual demeanor.
She wiped her lips with a single, clean, decisive stroke, a closing ritual performed with great care, as if erasing the traces of a failed conversation.
Every movement was executed with cold precision, yet beneath that precision, Theo could feel a dense, silent wave of disappointment.
The tissue she slowly crumpled atop her empty plate was no longer just a cleaning tool, but a symbol of closure, a gesture declaring that this session—and perhaps a phase of their interaction—had ended.
Then, without looking at Theo again, Aldraya stood up.
Her wooden chair scraped against the floor with a short, piercing sound that cut through the silence of the teachers' cafeteria.
She gave Theo no room to interrupt, to attempt repairs, or to delay the moment.
With her characteristic upright posture, like a soldier or a teacher leaving a classroom, she took her leave.
Those two words were delivered flatly, without rising or falling inflection, and precisely because of that flatness, they pressed against his chest like a dull blade.
It was not a hopeful "see you later," but a final statement, a boundary she herself had drawn.
The farewell was an official announcement that their limited twenty-minute togetherness had ended, and that she was the one who chose to end it.
"Sorry, kid. Your time is almost up.
You'd better leave before the academic staff come in to eat."
"I understand. Once again, thank you for your kindness."
Theo's solitude in the quiet teachers' cafeteria did not last long.
Aldraya's departure seemed to signal unseen supervisors.
Several cooks working behind the counter, who had likely been observing the unusual pair with restrained curiosity, began to approach.
Their footsteps sounded heavy on the clean ceramic floor, carrying with them the lingering scent of garlic and cooking oil clinging to their uniforms.
They were not hostile, but their demeanor was firm and straightforward.
One of them, perhaps the most senior, issued a warning in a low yet authoritative voice.
He reminded Theo that his special time had ended, and that the table would soon be needed for academic staff arriving to eat together.
The message was clear.
Theo had to leave immediately, before the arrival of teachers and administrators prompted questions about a student's presence in a place that was not meant for him, and before this already awkward situation turned into an embarrassing incident.
Theo, his mind still clouded by the image of Aldraya's retreating back, was jolted back to reality.
He nodded quickly, without attempting to defend himself or ask for more time.
A faint sense of embarrassment and the urgency to avoid further conflict pushed him into action.
With an almost reflexive movement, he stood up from his chair, shoving it back under the table with a harsh scraping sound.
He did not have time to look around, nor to tidy the plates and bowls left scattered behind.
His only objective was to bolt out of the room as fast as possible.
His first steps broke into a light run.
His legs carried him darting between the tables, avoiding the gazes of the cooks who might still have been watching.
The sound of his hurried footsteps echoed through the quiet room, starkly contrasting the calm he had just left behind.
But the moment he stepped out of the teachers' cafeteria and into the more open school corridor, his pace began to slow.
His previously ragged breathing steadied, and his movement shifted from running to fast walking, then slowed further into a normal stride.
The adrenaline that had driven him to flee began to fade, replaced by the weight of mental and emotional exhaustion from the meeting that had ended so poorly.
His body moved on inertia alone, following a route he knew by heart toward his classroom.
It did not take long for him to arrive.
The corridors he passed through seemed to blur, becoming background scenery he barely noticed.
His thoughts were anchored to two things.
The emptiness left by Aldraya, and the looming threat of the great task awaiting him tomorrow.
When he finally pushed open the door to his now-empty and darkened classroom, a cold sense of relief washed over him.
"What were you talking about with Aldraya earlier?"
"Yeah, how did you end up eating together?"
"Eating together, seriously?"
"D-don't tell me you two—"
"Nothing special.
Just trivial stuff."
Tiiiing!!
"All right, class is starting."
'It finally stopped… thank goodness.
Now I can breathe, no longer being tugged at by all those exhausting assumptions.
But this calm is an illusion. Too thin to bury the unease still nesting in my chest.'
Shaaaahh!
'I know the wound is deep. I felt it when she left without looking back.
My instincts screamed for me to chase after her and invite her to see a world beyond the four walls of her room, beyond the fantasies she reads in her books.
But fear followed close behind. What if her disguise fails, or she loses control and causes trouble with Erietta?'
Fhoooooh!
To be continued…