Chapter 138: Goldy Boy [2]
A boy with golden-brown hair moved past tables, scanning the hall for an empty seat in the dining hall.
His plate wobbled slightly in his hand as he navigated between rows of benches. Spotting a vacant spot near the corner, he quickened his pace a little.
Just as he reached it, another student at the same table stood abruptly, shifting back without looking. The boy tried to sidestep, but his elbow clipped the other’s arm. The tray rattled, a bit of stew splashing onto the edge.
"Watch it!" the other student snapped, slamming his own plate down on the table.
He shoved the golden-brown-haired boy in the chest with a flat palm. "Can’t you walk properly?"
The boy stumbled back a step, gripping his tray tightly to keep it from spilling.
His jaw clenched, but he said nothing immediately, the hall’s noise swallowing the brief tension between them.
Then the golden-brown-haired boy gave a curt nod, and spoke in a quiet voice.
"Sorry. I wasn’t looking your way."
But instead of easing, the other student’s face darkened.
"Not looking? Then open your damn eyes next time!" He jabbed a finger at the faint stains on his uniform, stew smeared across the fabric.
"See this? That’s your fault!"
The girl sitting beside him tugged lightly at his sleeve. "Darin, leave it—"
"Shut it," Darin snapped, brushing her hand away.
He scoffed and shoved the boy’s chest once more before dropping onto the bench with a loud thump.
The golden-brown-haired boy straightened, his expression unreadable.
And without a word, he turned and began walking toward the exit, tray still steady in his hands.
Behind him, laughter sparked as Darin leaned in toward his friends.
"Pathetic. Doesn’t even know how to walk straight." He even began cursing. Words slithered through the air, low but sharp enough to carry.
The boy froze mid-step. Slowly, he turned his head, his blue eyes narrowing into icy slits as he fixed his gaze on Darin.
The hall seemed to hush around them.
Darin felt it... that piercing glare, cold and unyielding.
He bristled, starting to rise from his seat.
"What? You got a problem—?"
But his voice faltered under the weight of those eyes. His bravado shriveled. Instinct overpowered pride, and he sank back into his seat, muttering a curse beneath his breath.
The boy then sighed and turned away, his expression unreadable once more.
He pushed open the heavy doors of the dining hall and stepped into the quiet outside.
The chatter and clatter of plates dimmed behind him, replaced by the rustle of leaves swaying in the afternoon breeze.
His eyes scanned the courtyard until they found a bench tucked beneath the broad shade of an old tree, half-hidden from the main path.
Perfect.
He walked over unhurriedly, set his tray down across his lap, and leaned back against the cool wood. For a moment, he simply sat there, breathing in the calm. Then, with no rush at all, he picked up his spoon and began eating.
Each bite was slow, almost lazy, as if the food were less important than the silence wrapping around him.
Just as he was eating, soft footsteps padded across the grass.
"Umm... excuse me?"
A gentle voice made him glance up.
A girl stood a little hesitantly before him, chestnut hair tied loosely at the side, falling over one shoulder, with clear hazel eyes that carried both shyness and warmth.
Her hands fiddled with the wicker handle of a small basket she held.
She pointed toward the bench, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"This... is kind of my favorite spot. I come here regularly, so..."
The boy studied her for a beat, then wordlessly shifted, sliding over to the corner of the bench. He left a space beside him.
The girl’s smile brightened. "Thank you."
She sat down gracefully, placed her basket between them, and opened it.
A soft fragrance of fresh bread rose as she pulled out a neatly wrapped sandwich. Without hesitation, she took a small bite, chewing quietly, her gaze fixed ahead on the trees.
The boy ate in silence, each bite slow and unhurried. When he was done, he set the tray aside on the bench and leaned back, eyes drifting toward the garden where the branches swayed in the mild breeze.
Beside him, the girl nibbled at her sandwich, humming softly under her breath , a quiet, tuneless melody that carried a strange comfort.
After a moment, she glanced his way.
With a small, almost hopeful smile, she held out another neatly wrapped piece from her basket.
"You want one?" she offered.
The boy turned, his lazy blue eyes flicking from the sandwich to her face. For a second, it looked like he might consider it, but then he shook his head lightly.
"No, thank you."
The girl held the sandwich up again, trying once more.
"They’re good, really. And fresh too." She tore off a small piece, popped it into her mouth, and smiled as she chewed.
"See? Nothing’s wrong with them."
The boy just stared at her for a moment, his gaze unreadable, then shook his head.
"I’m full."
Her smile faltered, and she lowered the sandwich slowly.
A shadow crossed her face, and she muttered under her breath, though not so quietly that he couldn’t hear.
"Right... why would you even want something from someone like me."
She looked down at her lap, the sandwich forgotten in her hands, her shoulders shrinking as if to make herself smaller.
The boy blinked, his lazy expression tightening just slightly, though he said nothing right away.
The girl’s voice dropped softer, cracking slightly. "Of course... stupid me. Who’d want food from me anyway?"
She pressed her thumb against the crust of the sandwich as if scolding herself.
"Always forcing things on people... no wonder they—" She cut herself off, biting her lip hard.
The boy shifted where he sat, suddenly finding the garden far too interesting.
His jaw tightened, and a faint crease formed between his brows.
For a long beat, he stayed silent. Then, without turning his head, he let out a low exhale and extended a hand toward her, palm half-open.
"Okay," he muttered, eyes still fixed anywhere but her.
"Give it here."
His fingers twitched slightly.
The girl’s eyes lit up when he took the bite, like a candle catching flame.
She leaned forward eagerly, hands clasped together as though bracing for his answer.
"How is it? Is it good, right?" she nearly chirped.
The boy chewed slowly, swallowed, and gave a single nod.
"Yeah. Really good."
It’s really nice, he admitted inwardly, already lifting the sandwich again.
Probably the best I’ve ever tasted but... His brows drew faintly together.
That first bite... why does it taste like—
"I made them, you know." Her soft voice cut across his thought.
He blinked, lowering the sandwich slightly.
"I never eat the academy food." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, tone carrying a practiced casualness.
"So I always make my own in the dorm. But I don’t have much... no proper tools or spices, and the staff won’t let me anywhere near the kitchen."
She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "So I just make do with what I have, old bread, a little knife, whatever ingredients I can sneak or buy."
Her smile softened, almost shy as she leaned more closer. "Guess it’s nothing special... but I’m glad you like it."
The boy’s gaze slid back to her. Then he blinked and spoke.
"Aren’t you a bit too close?"
Her expression froze.
A flicker of realization struck her and her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.
She immediately leaned back, shoulders hunching.
"Ah, sorry," she murmured quickly, fingers knotting in her skirt.
"It’s just... I’ve always been alone, you know? This is the first proper conversation I’ve had where someone wasn’t judging me. I guess I got... a little excited."
He watched her for a moment longer before giving a single, slow nod. "Okay."
The tension eased from her shoulders with that single word.
Then, after a pause, she hesitated, biting her lip, before suddenly stretching out her hand toward him.
He blinked, glancing at it but not moving.
"My mother used to say," she began softly, almost shyly, "that people who share food and talk while eating are already friends."
She nudged her hand forward a little, a faint, hopeful smile tugging at her lips.
"So... doesn’t that make us friends too?"
He hesitated, eyes narrowing.
Then, with a resigned breath, he lifted his own hand and took hers.
Their hands clasped in a brief and firm shake.
Her face lit up like sunlight breaking through clouds.
"I’m Serena Valgrim."
"Caleb Duskwood."
Serena dug back into her basket and pulled out another sandwich, holding it out with both hands like an offering.
"I have plenty," she said cheerfully. "If you want more, you can have them."
Caleb exhaled through his nose, and accepted it without a word.
He took another small bite, chewing slowly.
Serena, however, seemed to take that silence as encouragement.
Her eyes brightened, and she leaned in just slightly, voice bubbling with unrestrained enthusiasm.
"I always make some extra, you know. Just in case... well," she laughed a little, "just in case I ever have someone to share them with. Like today. My mother always said food tastes better when you don’t eat alone, so... I guess I keep hoping I’ll find someone who doesn’t mind eating with me."
Her words tumbled out in an eager rush, hands fussing with the basket, eyes gleamed with something between innocence and longing.
She then stood up, brushing crumbs from her skirt and tucking the basket under her arm.
She paused for a moment, then reached out with a bright smile, shaking Caleb’s hand once more.
"Bye. See you soon!" she chirped, her voice carrying that same strange mix of warmth and determination.
Without waiting for his reply, she turned and strode off across the courtyard.
Caleb’s gaze lingered on her retreating figure for a moment.
Then he leaned back against the bench, arms folding across his chest.
Then he muttered under his breath.
"What a strange girl."