Cafeteria – Private Room
In the secluded comfort of a private dining room—
One reserved exclusively for the Saintess herself—
Elysia, Nike, and Luka sat around a circular table.
Plates of warm food lay before them, untouched by tension yet softened by the rhythm of casual conversation.
The atmosphere was light, though slightly dimmed by the lingering sadness in Nike's eyes, her appetite clearly dulled by recent events.
For a while, they ate in relative silence, the occasional pleasantry exchanged between bites.
That was, until Luka, ever the strategist, gently set down his fork with a deliberate pause and turned his gaze toward Nike.
His tone was soft but carried the weight of intent.
"I believe," he began, his voice laced with feigned hesitation, "that it might be for the best if Arthur left the Academy."
The statement cut through the air like a blade.
Nike lifted her head slowly, her expression briefly confused, caught off guard by the suggestion.
