[Attention Level: None]
For the first time since leaving the classroom, Ashok felt the absence of prying eyes, of judgment, of unwanted attention.
With no lingering gaze upon him, he finally had a brief moment of peace, an interval where he could move without the weight of expectation pressing down.
His steps carried him toward the cafeteria counter, his focus solely on the menu before him, dismissing the free meal provided by the Academy without a second thought.
Mediocrity wasn't something he indulged in.
The menu was neatly divided, with ten paid dishes listed separately from the standard offering, each distinguished by its credit cost.
The first option sat at two credits, the prices gradually increasing—the final dish standing alone at ten.
His eyes settled instantly on the last choice:
Moss Elk Stew.
There was no hesitation—he selected it immediately, a quiet statement of preference, a reflection of his refusal to settle for less.
