When I re-entered the cafeteria with Mr. Blonde, there weren’t as many students sitting at tables compared to earlier. The line before the counter was also gone, with the occasional student getting up to get another serving.

  He walked up to one of the staff members behind the counter, occasionally pointing to me. I merely watched silently as I held my tray with a growing appetite.

  It seemed my hunger would be satiated, because the person behind the counter that Mr. Blonde was speaking to waved for me to come over there and eat something. I happily complied and got a serving of everything I was denied. I still got a weird look from the server, but that was probably because the combination of food was strange, not that I was being denied food.

  Hey, let me make my own mistakes.

  I looked to see Mr. Blonde’s face, and he also grimaced from my choices. It was a bit more subtle, but I could tell he was questioning my choice. That kind of expression is only possible when you’re aware of the divided opinions over pineapple on pizza, and someone proposes maggots as an option.

  I’ll be sure to try them separately.

  Luckily, a lot of tables were empty, so I sat at whichever looked the cleanest. I took the spoon and fork I was provided and started sampling the first food that caught my eye.

  It looked like mashed potatoes topped with chives. The flavor was nice, and its texture was smooth and creamy.

  The next one appeared to be a lasagna, but when I tasted it, I was surprised to find it was shredded meat and a sweet, tangy sauce, a contrast to the usual tomato sauce with cheese.

  The last one appeared to be a frosting-less cake served in rectangular slices. It was yellow and looked fairly dry from how long it sat in the open. Compared to the others, it looked more like a filler food item you’d eat to mellow out the flavors of something more flavorful or intense, like bread, rice, or certain vegetables.

  But when I tried it, it was shockingly moist and fluffy, contrary to its appearance. It wasn’t too sweet, and didn’t take away or overpower the flavors of the other dishes, either before or after their bites. All in all, a proper meal fit for any king or noble worthy of respect.

  Seeing more students leave the cafeteria, I quickened my pace a bit so that I wouldn’t be the last one to leave, but slowed down just enough to properly enjoy the flavors and give the food the appreciation it deserved.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  …

  Mr. Blonde had long left the cafeteria, likely to return to work. I tried asking the staff for a drink, preferably water to wash down my meal. I made the surf hand sign and made drinking motions, hoping one of them would give me or point me to where I could get a drink. A moment later, one of the staff came out with a cup, and I started drinking without a second thought. It was water, just what I needed.

  I performed a deep bow, as it was the only way I could show my gratitude for the food I ate without using words. It was something the Japanese did in my past life, too, having studied a bit of their culture, land, and language. The deeper the bow, the more respected being expressed toward someone. Whether deepness and respect were measured in how low the angle was, or how close to the ground your head was, I’ll never know.

  After handing back the cup and starting my walk back to the dorm, I realized I hadn’t seen my summoner amidst all the students.

  Did he eat alone? With the necessity of trays to plate lunch, I doubt you’d go all the way to somewhere secluded just to get up and return a tray.

  The campus was pretty big. I could understand taking a tray to eat in the neighboring classrooms, but there was no way you could take a tray of food to the other side of the campus, eat leisurely, then walk all the way back to the cafeteria to return your tray and still have time to attend your last class.

  From what I recall from the schedule, there was a block that wasn’t numbered. That must be lunch period. With how short it was compared to other blocks, that must be how long the lunch period is. No more than an hour, I think?

  I don’t really know his schedule. I’ll have to try asking about it when he gets back to the dorm.

  Hmm… what should I do in the meantime?

  A school of magic means that performing ‘magic’ is the norm, and I’ve seen many things that could be considered magical in the little time I’ve been here. Perhaps I should take the time to practice my own ‘magic’.

  The safest place I could think of to experiment with my Imagination Manifestation would be the square arena room with 4 sets of doors on each wall. Any stray attacks would be kept in the arena, which meant I wouldn’t risk accidentally hurting someone practicing my ability.

  I took out my map to refresh my memory of the school’s layout and picked a route that would take me to the square arena the fastest. So I idled in a corner of the school to wait for students to enter their classes and waited until I was certain no one would see me walk to the arena.

  …

  I decided to use one of the smaller doors as the entrance to the square arena, not wanting to operate something so large out of fear of accidentally making noise. From what the map showed me, all the doors surrounding the arena were far enough from nearby rooms to not worry about making noise, but I made sure to keep my movements quiet, steady, and small just in case.

  I stepped into the arena and produced some cardboard boxes to be used as targets. My current set of targets was just 4 tall, rectangular boxes meant to replicate the size of a person. One of them was taller than the other.

  The reason I wanted to practice was simple. I needed an arsenal of abilities to defend myself with. Sure, I could produce anything I imagined, but I wanted to avoid decision paralysis with the endless options my power has. So I decided to train myself in utilizing a concise set of abilities I could use reliably on the spot.