The early morning air was still cool enough to carry the scent of dew-kissed grass and blooming jasmine, roses, and many other flowers from the academy's various gardens.
Sunlight stretched gently across the horizon, warming the world awake with a promise of long, unhurried days.
However, Severine's struggle had already begun.
The cafeteria was silent, save for the clatter of utensils and the low chatter of chefs.
Severine approached the window and showed a card.
It was dark green—almost black—with only two words printed on it.
"Emmett D'Arden."
If one looked closely, carvings could be seen in the left corner, forming a rectangular shape filled with intricate lines and curves.
When the chef noticed the name on it, he hurriedly went to make a fresh batch of breakfast.
In the chef's eyes, the steam rising from the buffet dishes was unworthy of the third young master of the D'Arden family.
