Kaleran's boots clicked softly against the polished stone as he stepped further into the dining hall, hands behind his back, posture immaculate. His eyes skimmed the gathered students like a tactician surveying the aftermath of a battle. He paused only once—at the end of the long table, where Lucavion sat.
Then his lips moved into a perfectly measured line that almost resembled a smile.
"The day of sponsor meetings is complete," he announced, his voice carrying just enough resonance to land precisely where it needed to—between formality and veiled exasperation.
Everyone at the table looked up.
"But," Kaleran continued smoothly, "apparently, a certain someone caused… yet another scene."
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't even change his tone.
But his gaze? It didn't move from Lucavion.
Lucavion, who raised his teacup again with the elegance of a man entirely too comfortable under scrutiny.
