'Wait, I'm Supposed to Become a Goddess?! But I'm a Guy!'

Thompson had been acting weird for weeks now. He was always watching him in a way that was not teacherly.

He’d even started calling him over after every class, pretending he needed to talk about grades or some “future goals” thing.

Mize was no fool, though.

Something in Thompson’s eyes screamed, 'Pervy.' He didn’t trust the guy one bit.

'Total creep' Mize thought, brow furrowing. He clenched his fist a little, shaking off the thought.

This wasn’t the first creep he’d had to deal with, and, sadly, probably wouldn’t be the last.

His job now? Keep his head down, get through the class, and stay on guard.

No way he was letting his guard slip around that guy.

Lost in thought, Mize barely noticed the wave of students around him.

The murmur of their conversations was just white noise as he kept walking, step after step, down the cobblestone path.

The campus, the fancy buildings, the spiraling towers in the distance… all of it faded, leaving just the path in front of him and his determination to make it through another day.

Lost in thought, Mize somehow found himself drifting toward the cafeteria, a massive, pulsating hub smack in the center of this campus-palace hybrid.

The place was like something out of a fantasy artist’s fever dream, with four huge wings radiating from it, each dedicated to a specific purpose.

One for administration, another for food, one for entertainment (complete with an actual concert hall), and yet another packed with classrooms.

Mize almost whistled out loud at the sight.

'Whoever designed this place must’ve had some crazy ambitions' he mused, his gaze tracing the huge spiraling towers jutting up and around like giant, twisting fingers.

It was like Hogwarts met some futuristic cityscape, all flowing marble, glass, and twisting metal arches.

Honestly, calling it “palace-like” was almost underselling it.

There were gates here that practically pulsed with some rhythm only they knew, swiveling and swaying like they were alive.

The whole effect was captivating. Even now, with how often he came here, Mize couldn’t shake the awe of it.

As he wandered through the main gate, he brushed his fingers over the cool metal, its gears humming faintly beneath his touch, rotating ever so slowly as though the gate itself was part of some massive, living mechanism.

'Feels like magic' he thought, half-smirking.

But then again, what was normal here?

Between schools like this and people like him, this place was about as close to ordinary as a theme park was to real life.

Inside, the cafeteria spread out like a little world of its own, with stalls and tables covering every inch of the circular space.

The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with something fried, a hint of spiced meat, maybe a little coffee somewhere too, it was sensory overload in the best way.

You wanted sushi, burgers, whatever... you can find it here.

Kids moved in groups and pairs, laughing, eating, barely caring about the fact that class was about to start in twenty minutes.

Mize moved into the crowd, immediately swallowed by the mass of people.

Everyone around him seemed to have shot up a foot overnight, he could barely see past the shoulders and heads looming around him.

'Great' he thought, eyes darting around as he tried to peek through gaps in the crowd.

All he caught were glimpses of neon signs and stall names.

'Curse of being short' He shoved his hands into his pockets, narrowing his eyes.

If he could just get a view of one menu or something without standing on a chair or craning his neck like a total weirdo...

The hint of a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. 'Maybe I should just knee every guy here and clear a path for myself. There’s an idea' he thought, a little too pleased with the image.

Mize held back, stifling the impulse to act out.

'I’ve got an image now, gotta keep it clean' he reminded himself, forcing his gaze to stay soft and unassuming.

He'd only just started here, and every move mattered, especially since his reputation was still a clean slate.

With the protagonist's target still on his list, he couldn’t afford to ruin that before things even kicked off.

The crowd around him buzzed, and Mize caught himself on tiptoe, trying to peer over his shoulders to catch a glimpse of the stalls.

Each time, whispers floated his way, with curious glances following, some admiring, some just intrigued.

But that’s what he needed, just enough notice to create his presence without overwhelming himself.

Finally, he spotted a less crowded stall off to the side. Making his way over, he caught sight of the sign above.

Fiery Flame Hall, emblazoned with a guild insignia that practically glowed.

'Fiery Flame Hall?' Mize frowned, half amused. 'What kind of name is that? Sounds like it’s trying too hard to be edgy' He crossed his arms, eyes drawn to the emblem that was boldly carved into the sign.

Stepping forward, he couldn’t help but notice that the counter was annoyingly high, towering over him, though it was meant to be at eye level for most.

With only his eyes barely clearing the desk, he tapped his foot, half-annoyed. 'Did they make this counter tall just to mess with people like me?'

Then he looked up and froze, taking in the intimidating figure behind the counter, a giant of a man, easily pushing seven feet, with a muscular build and a long scar slicing across his cheek.

This was the kind of guy parents warned their kids about.

'Oh, no wonder no one’s lined up here' Mize thought, blinking up at the imposing figure as the man looked down with an expression that matched his gruff voice perfectly.

“Order?” the man asked, his voice scraping through the air like gravel in a blender.

Mize’s heart almost stopped right there.

He instinctively curled his hand in front of his chest, suddenly aware of how small he probably looked.

He was used to pulling off an innocent look, but this was… intense.

His fingers gripped together, and he felt a lump in his throat as he tried to meet the guy’s eyes without flinching.

The man blinked, thrown by Mize’s wide-eyed look.

His face softened a bit as he scratched the back of his head, suddenly looking awkward for someone so intimidating. “Miss? Are you okay?” he asked, the fierce edge dropping from his voice.

His awkwardness was almost charming, and it softened the intensity in his eyes, making him seem like someone struggling to handle delicate things without breaking them.

Swallowing his nerves, Mize decided it was time to play this up a little. “Oh, sorry,” he said, his voice coming out softer than intended.

The man relaxed a bit more, visibly trying to keep his intimidating presence in check.

“Don’t be nervous, here,” the man said, pushing a large A3 paper menu across the counter toward Mize.

It slipped toward him, a thick, glossy sheet covered in vibrant images of dishes with their names in bold.

Mize reached up, just barely managing to pull it over the edge of the counter.

The man noticed the struggle and kindly leaned forward to bring it closer.

“Thank you,” Mize said, his voice soft and almost too sweet, a tone that, whether intentional or not, seemed to melt a bit of the man's rough edges.

The man paused, studying him with a look that seemed almost paternal.

After a moment, he sighed, his rugged face softened in a way that didn’t fit his scar and stern brow. 'Why is there a little angel here?'

He thought, glancing away with the look of someone almost sad. 'The world out there’s so brutal…hope she doesn’t lose that innocence after the awakening ceremony'

Mize, oblivious to the internal monologue, scanned the menu.

The dishes were strange to him, each one sounding like something out of a fantasy: roasted spirit fowl, elemental crystal dumplings, and, at the top of the menu, something that looked like an elaborate rib cage dish, encased in what seemed to be shimmering, golden broth.

He looked up, catching the man’s eyes watching him, arms crossed and nodding as he waited for Mize’s decision.

“Anything you like?” The man tried a smile, but with his gruff face and scar, it came off a bit more like a menacing grin.

Mize, always on cue, let out a tiny shiver, stepping back, his hand hovering over his chest in a reflex of guarded innocence.

He glanced back down, quickly pointing to the elaborate rib dish at the top. “I...I want this one,” he said, eyes wide and blinking.

The man leaned in, following Mize’s finger to the highlighted menu item.

“This one?” he repeated as if questioning his hearing.

He glanced back down at Mize, a mix of doubt and sympathy in his eyes. “Are you sure you can afford it?”

Mize’s cheeks went a little pink, and he shook his head. “I-I don’t know the price.”

The man let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as if to say, 'Well, that figures' He looked back at the menu and explained, “That right there is spiritual beef rib, comes from a rare beast. It’s loaded with energy, too. For non-awakeners like you, it’d be a strong boost.” His voice softened, his gaze sweeping over Mize with a bit more kindness.

Mize’s curiosity sparked. “Does it taste good?” he asked, his big, innocent eyes blinking, making him look every bit the naive kitten he was.

The man chuckled, genuinely this time, a warm and honest sound from deep in his chest.

“Yeah, it’s good. Real good,” he replied, glancing away for a moment as if he were embarrassed by Mize’s almost too-cute enthusiasm.

“Then I want that one,” Mize said, nodding eagerly, clearly unaware of the hefty implications of such a choice.

But before he could get too far, the man put up his hand, waving in gentle protest. “W-wait!” he stammered, holding the menu back up with urgency.

“The price is over ten thousand dollars!” His voice was almost pleading as if he didn’t want to be the one to crush Mize’s hopes.

He leaned closer, face softening, clearly just trying to protect Mize from a shock he was sure would be coming.

“Oh…” Mize mumbled, glancing back down at the menu with a look that was half-defeated, half-stubborn.

But he nodded, managing a sheepish grin. 'Well' he thought, 'back to reality'

There was a reason people avoided this stall. The man behind the counter was built like a tank, with that hardened look that sent most students scurrying to more cheerful vendors.

And then there was the price. To even consider ordering from here, you had to either have family money or awakened parents.

These weren’t your everyday student snacks; they were high-tier meals, and the kind of prices that could buy a second-hand car or even a new one.