Honestly, I thought we were heading to the school cafeteria. It made sense, simple, easy, nearby.

But no. I was wrong.

We walked right past the cafeteria without even slowing down.

The smell of food drifted out as we passed, oily fries, instant noodles, meat pies, and my stomach practically begged me to stop.

But Yara's pace didn't falter once, and of course, me being me, I had to open my mouth.

"Uh, aren't we going to the cafeteria?" I asked.

She shot me a weird look, like I had just asked whether the sky was blue.

For a second, I thought she was going to ignore me outright, but maybe our little agreement from earlier was still in effect.

Answering my questions, at least the bearable ones.

"I don't go to cafeterias," she said flatly. "Never have. I like my privacy and peace."

Her tone was calm, but the conviction behind it told me she wasn't lying.

Yara didn't seem like the type to waste time explaining herself.

And me? I didn't even doubt her. Mostly because I didn't have the energy to.

This academy was the first place where I had even tried eating in a cafeteria, and I already knew the horrors of it.

Crowded tables. Noise everywhere. Random people shoving trays past you like it was a warzone.

And most importantly small and quality food. For those who wants to manage money obviously.

So no, we weren't going to the cafeteria. We were going somewhere far, far better.

A restaurant.

The second she told me that, I looked at Yara in a completely new light.

Just when I was silently wishing for real quantity food, she appeared like an angel sent straight from heaven.

Well… not all angels need wings, apparently.

Though in her case, the halo was missing too.

I mean, sure, in this moment she was an angel. But most of the time? She was very much a devil. A devil with good taste in restaurants.

I wasn't ungrateful. If anything, I was practically ready to worship her.

Still, a part of me couldn't help but feel suspicious.

Why was she really doing this? People like her didn't just "treat" people like me without reason.

But honestly… all those thoughts started slipping away the more I imagined the kind of food I was about to eat.

I was dangerously close to drooling.

"Here we are," Yara's voice snapped me out of my fantasy.

I blinked, realizing we were already standing in front of it.

The restaurant towered above us, grand and imposing, with polished glass windows that reflected the sunlight like it was showing off.

It was the kind of place where people came dressed to impress, where every bite of food cost enough to make a normal person cry.

Inside, the atmosphere screamed money.

The air smelled faintly of spices and freshly baked bread, the soft notes of a piano drifting across the room.

Every table was filled with elegant people, eating with a kind of practiced slowness, like they weren't just having lunch, but preparing for eternity.

And then it hit me. I knew this place.

I'd been here once before, back when my bank account actually had numbers I could be proud of.

As I started to head toward a free table in the corner, Yara's hand clamped down on my shoulder.

"Not there," she said.

I froze.

"Huh? What do you mean, not there?"

"Just follow me." Her tone left no room for debate.

She led me past the tables, her steps confident, straight toward a man who had been standing near the back like he was waiting.

The second Yara approached, he bowed deeply.

"Young Miss," he greeted.

Yara gave a small nod.

"Did you do what I requested?"

"Yes, Young Miss."

Then her gaze shifted toward me. Sharp. Steady.

"Let's go," she said.

We started walking deeper into the restaurant, the sound of clinking silverware and low piano music fading behind us.

I stepped a little closer to Yara, curious, and caught the faintest flinch in her shoulders.

She didn't say anything, but I noticed. I filed it away in the back of my mind.

For someone who carried herself like she owned the world, she clearly wasn't used to people getting too close.

Expected, really. That's the kind of side effect you got when you were rich, feared, and equipped with anger issues big enough to level a building.

"So," I said, breaking the silence, "what did you mean earlier? You know, when you asked that guy if he 'did what you requested'? Don't tell me this is part of some elaborate murder plan. Like—" I gestured around us. "You even prepared a restaurant as your crime scene?"

Her teeth clenched, a sharp sound like she was holding back words that could kill.

"Please. Give me a break. Are we still on that matter?"

"Yes," I said firmly. "Of course we're still on it. Look, I'm not being paranoid, I'm just caring about my life. And you have to admit, you sounded very shady back there."

Yara stopped walking for half a second, then exhaled slowly as if I was the world's biggest headache.

"What I requested," she said, her tone calm but strained, "was for them to set up a seat for you in my private dining room."

I blinked.

"…Huh? You have a private room in a restaurant?"

"Yes." She didn't even hesitate. "I eat alone. I dislike being around too many people."

I frowned.

"So… basically like a VIP section?"

"Almost," she replied. Then, with the faintest smirk, added, "But not quite."

I raised an eyebrow.

"What's the difference?"

"The difference is…" She glanced at me, her lips twitching into a knowing curve. "I own this place."

I froze mid-step. My brain short-circuited for a solid two seconds.

"You what?"

"I own it," she repeated, casual as if she'd just told me she had a spare pen.

"You own this restaurant?!" I nearly shouted.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.