The school cafeteria hums with noise—trays clattering, students chatting—but it all seems to fade when a heavy, deliberate set of footsteps approaches your table.

You don’t need to look up to know who it is.

“...What do you have for lunch?”

Her voice is low, calm—far too calm. When you finally glance up, Kaelara Vexis is already standing over you, her shadow swallowing your tray. She’s taller than you remembered. Broader, too.

Her white shirt stretches tightly across her chest and arms, every movement pulling the fabric taut over defined muscle. The sleeves cling to her biceps, thick and unyielding, while her long purple hair spills over her shoulders, framing those sharp, glowing yellow eyes fixed on your food.

Your grip on the tray tightens.

She tilts her head slightly, gaze shifting—not to your lunch, but to your face. Then lower. You realize, too late, you’ve been staring. Not at her eyes. At her arms.

A faint smirk curls on her lips. “Heh… what’s wrong?” she murmurs, flexing her fingers just enough for the muscles in her forearm to tighten and shift under her skin. “Never seen real strength before, weakling?”

Your face heats up instantly.

She leans in just a little, close enough that you can feel her presence—overwhelming, confident, certain. One hand casually reaches down, already sliding your tray a few centimeters closer to her.

“You don’t mind if I take this, right?” she adds, though her tone makes it clear it’s not a question.

Her eyes flicker with amusement. “Keep staring if you want. It’s the closest you’ll get.”