The second week at Babyls continued its precarious balancing act. Noir was successfully maintaining his façade of chilling authority, fortified by the presence of his two loyal, if utterly contradictory, companions. The triple alliance—the aloof tyrant, the devoted fire-master, and the chaotic sprite—was now the subject of intense, fearful gossip across the academy.
It was lunchtime, and the trio navigated the bustling, cavernous cafeteria.
"Grandpa really doesn't know what he's talking about," Noir muttered to himself, grabbing a tray. He was still reeling from Sullivan's simple assertion that their shared time equaled friendship.
"Are you referring to the proper application of elemental mana in culinary preparation, Noir-sama?" Asmodeus inquired, his eyes sharp with concern. He was walking slightly ahead, clearing a path through the crowded aisles.
"No, Alice. Grandpa was talking about us. About… being friends," Noir clarified, wincing slightly as he used the word.
Asmodeus stopped dead, his pink hair momentarily bristling. He turned to Noir, his emerald eyes radiating intense pride and gravity.
"Noir-sama, your gracious inclusion of this humble retainer into your inner circle is, of course, an unparalleled honor," Alice declared, his voice a dramatic whisper. "However, I must stress: I am your vassal first. If you wish to bestow the casual affection of 'friendship' upon me, I accept it as another sign of your supreme benevolence. But I assure you, my service remains absolute, friend or not."
Clara, meanwhile, simply bounced past them, already reaching toward her pocket. "Are we talking about friendship? If you're my friend, you can have these giant gummy spiders! I made them taste like licorice!"
She thrust a handful of sticky, multi-legged treats at Noir, who accepted them automatically.
Inner Dialogue (Noir):Vassal or friend, he's still sharing his life with me, and I'm sharing mine with them. It doesn't matter what we call it, only that it's real. Grandpa was right.
They finally arrived at the ordering counter, where a massive, glowing menu board dominated the wall.
"Allow me to explain the menu system, Noir-sama," Alice said, resuming his role as expert guide. "The quality and variety of food available here are strictly determined by one's Rank."
Alice pointed to the menu board. "Since our official first-year ranks have not been fully calculated yet—the familiar summoning only provides the initial measure—students must order based on the default tier available to first-years, which is currently the basic, free sustenance offered to the \alpha rank. Only upperclassmen can access the higher, differentiated free meals."
He then pointed to a smaller, more refined counter nearby. "There is, however, the Apothecary Shop, which sells true high-quality food, drinks, and rare restorative items, but these must be purchased, regardless of rank."
Noir looked at the entire menu board. The standard first-year meals were decidedly unappealing: Slime Noodle Gruel, Fermented Beetle Mush, and Watery Essence of Stagnant Pond.
"I'll take the Slime Noodle Gruel, then," Noir told the server, maintaining his stoic façade.
The waiter, a meek-looking lesser demon, slid a bowl across the counter.
Noir stared at the contents: a pale, translucent, wobbly mass floating in thin, grey liquid. It looked and smelled exactly like the description. It looked awful.
"My Lord, that looks… distressingly low-effort," Asmodeus commented, eyeing the gruel with barely concealed disgust as he collected his own identical bowl of Slime Noodle Gruel. "Even for the \alpha tier."
"It's fine," Noir lied, forcing himself to pick up a spoon. He was used to eating garbage from his old life, but this was exceptionally bad.
Asmodeus, sensing his Lord's quiet dismay, hesitated. He looked at his own untouched slime.
"Noir-sama," Alice began, his expression serious. "If you truly cannot tolerate that… sustenance, I would be honored to share my dish with you. As your vassal, your caloric intake is my responsibility. But… as your friend, perhaps it is simply the proper gesture."
Noir's heart swelled. He was offering his only meal—the standard meal they both had to choke down—just because the gruel was gross.
Inner Dialogue (Noir):He's sharing his food. This is real.
Before Noir could accept or decline this profound gesture, a loud, frantic clattering sound erupted from the serving hatch.
A waiter appeared, pushing a massive, industrial-sized serving trolley, groaning under the weight of an impossible amount of food.
"Order for Table Six!" the waiter shouted, looking utterly distressed.
The table for three demons was instantly engulfed by mountains of food: fifty bowls of Slime Noodle Gruel, trays piled high with stale Demon Bread, entire buckets of Fermented Beetle Mush, and dozens of plastic-wrapped, low-grade pastries. Enough food for a small battalion.
Alice's eyes flashed with immediate fury. "What is the meaning of this insolence?! We only ordered three meals!"
The waiter stammered, terrified. "I-I don't know, sir! The kitchen received an anonymous bulk order for 'Table Six, the place of the mysterious new transfer student'! We… we assumed it was a prank! An extremely mean prank!"
Alice instantly understood. Some jealous, likely upper-ranked students—furious over Noir's perceived arrogance and his unmeasurable familiar summoning—were attempting to publicly humiliate them by drowning their table in low-quality food, forcing them to either admit defeat or haul the slop away themselves.
Alice's face contorted in incandescent rage. He turned, ready to issue a devastating rebuke to Noir and command him to send the entire offensive pile back.
"Noir-sama, this is an unacceptable slight! We must have this returned at once and the perpetrators—!"
Alice stopped mid-sentence.
He saw Noir.
Noir was no longer sitting. He was leaning over the table, his arms moving in a blur, shoveling the Slime Noodle Gruel and the Fermented Beetle Mush into his mouth with terrifying speed. His eyes were wide, not with disgust, but with sheer, focused hunger.
Within seconds, the majority of the food on the trolley vanished. The fifty bowls of gruel, the mush, and the stale bread disappeared into the void that was Noir's stomach.
Noir paused, his hands wiping stray gruel from his chin. He looked around the now half-empty trolley, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction.
"That was delicious," Noir announced, his voice muffled by the last remnants of bread. "It's been a while since I had a really large portion. Thank you. Do you think I could have more?"
Alice was frozen, his mouth hanging open in complete shock.
At that moment, the waiter who had brought the trolley let out a choked cry, stumbling backward toward the kitchen entrance.
"He's asking for more?! The chef has fainted! He collapsed from the stress of making that much gruel in five minutes!" the waiter shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at the empty trolley before fleeing back into the kitchen.
Alice simply stood there, staring at the sheer volume of low-grade food that his master had consumed in one sitting—the equivalent of a day's rations for fifty demons.
Inner Dialogue (Alice):He consumed the entire prank. Not only did he foil the insult, but he demonstrated an appetite and constitution that defy logic. His consumption is as immense and boundless as his mana core. He is a predator who devours the insults of his enemies!
Alice's fury melted instantly into overwhelming, renewed devotion. His master was not only supremely powerful; he was immensely hungry.