Arios stood by the small kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The dorm's kitchenette wasn't exactly large—barely enough space for two people to move comfortably. But today, there were four.

Lucy was already leaning forward, peering into the open fridge like it contained a mystery she needed to solve. "You said you bought eggs yesterday," she said, her voice half-accusatory.

"I did," Arios replied. "Top shelf. Behind the milk."

Lucy pulled out the carton and frowned. "You didn't even open it."

"That's why they're still good," Arios said flatly.

Liza was seated on one of the stools by the counter, kicking her legs slowly, a wooden spoon hanging lazily from her lips. "You two argue like you're married," she muttered.

Lucy turned her head, glaring. "I'm just making sure he doesn't poison us."

"I'm not the one who burned instant noodles last week," Arios replied.

"That was because your pan was cursed," Lucy shot back, waving a finger at him.

Amelia, standing quietly near the stove, looked over her shoulder. "A pan can't be cursed," she said in her calm tone, though her lips hinted at a small smile. "You just forgot to add water."

Lucy blinked. "I did not—"

"She did," Liza interrupted, confirming it with an exaggerated nod. "We all saw it."

Arios sighed, grabbing a cutting board. "Okay. No one is cursed. No one's burned noodles today. Let's just cook."

He placed the board on the counter and started slicing onions. The knife made rhythmic sounds—clean, steady cuts. Lucy moved beside him, bringing the eggs and some vegetables. She wasn't tall enough to reach comfortably, so she leaned against him slightly as she tried to grab the salt from the upper cabinet.

"Can you not—" Arios started, only to stop when she looked at him with a blank face.

"What?"

"Never mind," he muttered, handing her the salt instead.

Liza laughed quietly. "You two are hopeless."

Lucy turned. "You could help, you know."

"I'm supervising," Liza said, pointing at her spoon. "Very important role."

Arios looked at her. "You're just waiting for us to finish so you can eat."

"Exactly," she said, smiling without shame.

Amelia shook her head slightly, reaching over to light the stove. The faint blue flame flickered, and she adjusted it carefully. Her movements were precise, deliberate, like everything she did. "I'll handle the pan," she said.

"You sure?" Arios asked.

She nodded once. "You cook too fast. The last time you made omelets, they were overdone."

Lucy gasped. "You noticed too?"

"They were edible," Arios said defensively. "That's what matters."

"Barely," Lucy replied. "It was like chewing a scroll."

Liza broke into laughter, almost dropping her spoon. "She's not wrong."

Arios gave them both a flat look. "You can all cook your own meals next time."

"No," Lucy said quickly. "Yours taste good even when they're a little burnt."

Liza smirked. "That's what we call desperate flattery."

"Shut up," Lucy said, turning back to the cutting board to chop some peppers.

Amelia glanced between them, quiet but clearly listening. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, a few strands falling near her face as she stirred the pan. The smell of oil heating filled the room.

The dorm's window was open just enough for a soft breeze to enter. Outside, voices from the courtyard echoed faintly—students talking, laughter, distant music. It was a calm weekend, the kind that felt like the academy had taken a breath.

Arios cracked a few eggs into a bowl, mixing them with a fork. The simple act filled the silence briefly.

Lucy leaned against the counter, watching the mixture swirl. "You ever think about how normal this feels?" she asked.

"Normal?" Arios repeated.

"Yeah. Just… all of us, cooking, talking. No monsters, no Council meetings, no conspiracies. Just… food."

Arios shrugged. "It's better this way."

Liza stretched her arms above her head. "For once, I agree with him."

Amelia's tone was soft. "Peace doesn't last forever."

Everyone looked at her. She was still focused on the pan, flipping the vegetables with measured care.

Lucy frowned. "You don't have to ruin the moment."

"I'm just being realistic," Amelia said without looking up. "But… it's nice while it lasts."

Liza tilted her head, studying her. "That's probably the most optimistic thing I've ever heard you say."

Amelia didn't respond. She added a bit of seasoning and stepped back so Arios could pour in the eggs. The sizzling sound filled the small room. The smell hit immediately—savory, warm, almost comforting.

Lucy hummed. "Smells good."

"Because I made it," Arios said quietly.

"You poured it," Liza corrected.

"I made the base," Arios countered.

Lucy smirked. "Yeah, and without Amelia, you'd have burnt it again."

"I'm surrounded by critics," Arios muttered.

They all laughed lightly, and even Amelia's lips curved slightly upward. For a few moments, there was no tension, no pressure—just the sound of food cooking and people breathing the same air without conflict.

When the first batch was done, Arios divided it into four plates. Liza grabbed hers immediately.

"Wait for everyone," Lucy scolded.

"I am waiting," Liza said, already chewing. "In spirit."

Arios exhaled. "Just sit down."

The four gathered around the small table. The plates weren't perfect; some pieces of egg were uneven, and a few vegetables were slightly overcooked, but no one complained. The warmth of shared food outweighed the imperfections.

Lucy took the first bite and grinned. "This is good."

Amelia nodded quietly. "Better than last time."

Arios arched a brow. "That sounded like a compliment."

"It was factual," Amelia replied, expression neutral.

Liza pointed with her spoon. "That's her version of a compliment. You take what you can get."

Lucy giggled, almost choking. "You're mean."

"I'm honest," Liza said simply.

Arios leaned back slightly, watching them. "You two never stop talking."

"That's because you never start," Lucy replied.

"I prefer peace," Arios said.

"Then you shouldn't hang out with us," Liza said, smirking.

"Maybe I like chaos," he muttered, almost too quietly.

They all heard it anyway. Lucy blinked, Amelia glanced up, and Liza smiled knowingly.

"Well," Liza said, "that explains everything."

The conversation moved on to small things—classes, instructors, minor academy rumors. Nothing important, but it filled the air comfortably. The sunlight shifted through the window, casting faint golden lines across the floor.

Lucy leaned her chin on her hand. "You ever think we'd end up like this?"

"Like what?" Arios asked.

"Friends. Teammates. Whatever this is."

Arios paused. "I didn't plan it."

Amelia stirred her drink. "None of us did."

Liza nodded. "I mean, if someone told me months ago that I'd be eating Arios' burnt omelet and enjoying it, I'd have laughed."

"You still can," Arios said dryly.

"I did," she said, grinning.

They all laughed again. It wasn't loud, but it was genuine. The kind of laughter that stayed in the room even after it faded.

Arios finished eating first, setting his fork down. He watched the others quietly, his gaze soft. Lucy's hair had a strand sticking up near her temple, and she hadn't noticed. Liza was leaning back, balancing her chair dangerously on two legs. Amelia was cleaning her plate meticulously, as if tidiness mattered even here.

He caught himself smiling slightly and quickly looked away.

Lucy noticed. "What?"

"Nothing," he said.

"You were smiling," she said suspiciously.

"I'm allowed to."

"Yeah, but you only smile when something's funny or someone's about to get roasted," she said.

Liza laughed. "She's not wrong."

Arios shook his head. "It's nothing."

Amelia watched him quietly, not saying a word. There was a knowing calm in her gaze, the kind that didn't need to speak.

Eventually, the meal ended. Plates were stacked. The small dorm sink filled with warm water and bubbles as Lucy volunteered to wash, with Liza "supervising" again and Amelia drying. Arios leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching them move around the cramped space.

Lucy turned halfway. "You could help, you know."

"I cooked," Arios replied.

"Barely."

"I cooked," he repeated.

She sighed but smiled faintly. "Fine, but next time you're washing."

Liza grinned. "Oh, I'll make sure he does."

Amelia handed over another dish to dry. "We'll hold him to it."

"You're all plotting," Arios said.

"That's what friends do," Liza said.

He didn't argue that. He just watched them—Lucy humming under her breath, Liza talking nonstop, Amelia listening in quiet amusement. The room felt smaller, but warmer.

When the last plate was done, Lucy wiped her hands and turned toward him. "You know," she said, "for all your talk, you actually like this."

"Like what?"

"This," she gestured vaguely at the room, "normal stuff. Being with us."

Arios paused, unsure how to answer. "Maybe."

Amelia's voice was soft. "That's a yes."

Liza stretched. "Big progress for him. Someone write this down."

Lucy smiled. "I already did."

They all laughed again. The day stretched on quietly after that—no danger, no battles, no politics. Just the echo of shared voices and the faint smell of cooked food lingering in the air.

As evening light dimmed outside, the dorm fell into a calm silence. Amelia had left first, with a polite farewell. Liza followed, making some sarcastic comment about not cleaning next time. That left Arios and Lucy.

She was still sitting by the counter, idly tapping her fingers. "So," she said, "next weekend?"

"Next weekend what?" Arios asked.

"Another cooking session."

He hesitated. "We'll see."

"That means yes," she said confidently.

Arios didn't respond. He just gave a small nod. Lucy smiled to herself, satisfied.

As she stood to leave, she stopped by the door and looked back. "You're not that bad to hang out with, you know."

Arios looked up. "You're worse."

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "See you, Arios."

The door closed gently behind her.

For a few seconds, the dorm was quiet again. The faint hum of the fridge, the cooling stove, and the distant sounds of the academy outside filled the silence.

Arios leaned back against the counter, looking around at the mess that was already half-clean. He sighed, but there was no annoyance in it—just quiet acceptance.

He glanced at the window where the sun was nearly gone. The sky was dim, fading from gold to blue.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, the weight in his chest wasn't heavy. No looming danger, no political games, no suspicion.

Just… peace.

And in that silence, for a brief moment, he thought maybe—just maybe—it was something he could get used to.

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