Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest-Chaoter 692 155.3 - Case of a breakfast

Chaoter 692 155.3 - Case of a breakfast

Astron began setting down the rest of the dishes he had prepared, his movements calm and efficient despite the chaos they had caused earlier. Plates of fried herb patties, crispy potatoes, Emberboar bacon, and the vibrant eggs with tomato sauce filled the table.

Irina watched silently, her fork halfway to her mouth as she observed him. It struck her that despite their impromptu "battle" in the kitchen, not a single dish had been ruined or spilled. The chairs might have tipped over, a few utensils littered the floor, but every plate remained pristine, as if the chaos had been carefully choreographed. She glanced down at her own plate, then back at Astron, her lips pressing into a thin line. She hated to admit it, but she was impressed. "How did you...?" she began, her voice trailing off.

Astron glanced at her, one brow arched. "How did I what?" he asked, placing a cup of tea in front of her.

"Nothing," she muttered, quickly stuffing another bite of food into her mouth.

But her thoughts didn't stop. She replayed the earlier scene in her mind-the way he had moved, dodging her lunges with ease, holding onto the food without spilling a single drop. His movements had been so fluid, so precise. She'd never seen anyone so nimble, not even in combat. It wasn't just his speed or reflexes-it was the way he seemed to always be in control of his body, even in a chaotic situation.

Her gaze flickered to him again as he settled into a chair across from her, taking a sip of his tea. His sharp features were relaxed, his expression calm as if the earlier chaos hadn't happened.

"Like a cat..." she mumbled absentmindedly, her fork tapping lightly against her plate. Astron glanced up, his purple eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity. "What was that?" Irina blinked, realizing she had spoken aloud. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly shook her head. "Nothing," she said quickly, though her mind lingered on the thought. She remembered a particular cat she'd encountered at the academy-a sleek, black creature that had a habit of leading her to places she hadn't intended to go, including the library that day. It had moved with the same kind of grace Astron did, its steps silent and deliberate, its gaze sharp and knowing.

That cat... and him... she thought, her lips pressing into a thin line. The resemblance was uncanny.

Astron leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand as he studied her. "You've been staring," he said, his tone teasing. "Do I have something on my face?"

Irina's fork clattered against her plate as she quickly shook her head. "No!" she said, her voice higher than she intended. She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself.

"I was just... thinking about something"

"About me?"

Irina scoffed, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair. "Don't flatter yourself," she muttered, though the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her.

"Hmm..."

Astron hummed softly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he returned to his tea. "If you say so," he said lightly, his tone leaving her bristling.

She huffed, turning her attention back to her plate. Like a cat... she thought again, stealing another glance at him. The idea refused to leave her mind, and she couldn't decide whether it annoyed her or amused her. Probably both.

The two of them dined quietly, the earlier chaos of the kitchen melting into a surprisingly comfortable calm. Irina poked at the fried herb patties on her plate, the golden crust catching the light, before taking a cautious bite. Her eyes widened slightly as the flavors hit her-a perfect balance of crispy exterior and savory filling, the herbs and spices enhancing the simplicity of the dish.

She glanced across the table at Astron, who ate with his usual unhurried grace. His expression betrayed nothing, but Irina could tell he was aware of her reaction. She huffed softly, unwilling to admit out loud that the food was, in fact, good.

The eggs and tomato sauce were next, the spices melding with the natural tanginess of the tomatoes to create a satisfying bite. The Emberboar bacon, with its rich, smoky flavor, practically melted in her mouth. Everything on the table was simple yet executed with care, the kind of meal that didn't need to be flashy to be satisfying.

"Not bad," she muttered under her breath, spearing another piece of potato with her fork.

Astron's gaze flicked to her, his purple eyes glinting with amusement. "What was that?" he asked, though his tone made it clear he'd heard her perfectly.

Irina glared at him, her cheeks flushing faintly. "I said it's not bad," she repeated, louder this time, her tone defensive.

"Hmm," Astron hummed, taking another bite of his food. "I'll take that as high praise from you."

Irina rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched slightly, almost betraying a smile. She returned her attention to her plate, determined not to let him see how much she was enjoying the meal.

It wasn't as if she was a gourmet or anything. Her standards for food weren't particularly high-as long as it was edible and didn't taste like ash, she'd be satisfied. But even so, she couldn't deny that Astron's cooking had a certain... charm. Each dish was balanced, the flavors complementing one another without being overwhelming. It wasn't chef-level, but it was clearly made with skill and care.

Her thoughts wandered briefly to the meals she was used to-elaborate, meticulously prepared feasts served by the finest chefs in the Emberheart household. They were impressive, certainly, but there was something about the simplicity of this meal that felt more genuine. It reminded her of the rare times she'd eaten something made by hand, without the layers of expectation and ceremony that usually accompanied her meals.

She stole another glance at Astron, who was calmly sipping his tea as though he hadn't. just orchestrated a chaotic yet perfectly executed breakfast. His composure was as steady as ever, his expression unreadable but oddly reassuring.

"Humph," she muttered, returning to her food.

They ate in companionable silence, the tension from earlier replaced by an unspoken understanding. Irina didn't want to admit it, but she felt strangely at ease, a rare feeling she wasn't entirely sure what to do with. The food, the quiet, the company-it all came together in a way that felt... right.

As she finished the last bite of her patty, she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she watched Astron clear his plate. "You're annoyingly good at this," she said,

her tone begrudging.

Astron glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Good at what?"

"This," she said, gesturing vaguely at the table. "Cooking. Being irritating. Acting like you're perfect."

"I never said I was perfect," he replied, his tone calm. "But I'll take the compliment."

Irina scoffed, but the faint blush on her cheeks didn't go unnoticed. She turned her head, staring out the window as if to hide her expression. "Whatever," she muttered, though the corners of her lips tugged upward despite herself.

As Irina leaned back in her chair, a thought struck her, sharp and sudden. The herb patties. She glanced at the empty plate in front of her, the lingering taste still fresh on her tongue. It wasn't just that they were good-they were familiar. Strangely familiar.

Her brows furrowed as she tapped a finger against her arm, the gears in her mind turning. The flavor of the herbs he had used-it was almost identical to the ones she had tasted in the past. And that past wasn't something random or recent. It was a distant memory, tied to specific moments she'd long tucked away.

The sheer improbability of it made her chest tighten. There were countless herbs that could have been used to make these patties. Astron could have chosen any combination, and yet, he had picked these. The exact herbs that she happened to like. Her lips pressed into a thin line as the realization began to settle.

This isn't a coincidence, she thought, her fiery gaze darting toward Astron, who was now casually stacking their empty plates. His movements were calm and unhurried as if he were completely unaware of the thoughts swirling in her head.

But Irina wasn't convinced. There's no way he just stumbled into my home and decided to make herb patties with the exact ingredients I like by chance. That doesn't happen.

That can't happen.

Her fingers tightened on the edge of the table as she stared at him, her mind racing. Did he... plan this? The idea sent a small shiver down her spine, though she wasn't

sure if it was from unease or something else entirely.

"Astron," she said suddenly, her voice sharper than she intended.

He glanced at her, his sharp purple eyes locking onto hers. "What?" he asked, his tone calm as always, though his gaze carried a hint of curiosity.

Irina leaned forward slightly, her fiery gaze locked onto Astron. "Herb patties," she said again, her tone carrying the weight of her suspicion. "Why herb patties?" Astron paused for a moment, glancing at her before resuming his task of stacking utensils. His expression remained calm, unbothered, as if her question didn't faze him in the slightest. "Why not?" he replied casually. "Seemed like a good choice." Irina narrowed her eyes, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "You don't strike me as someone who'd eat herb patties," she said pointedly. "You look more like the 'meat and potatoes' type. Something simpler, less... intricate." Astron turned to face her fully, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter. "And what makes you think that?" he asked, his tone laced with mild

amusement.

"Because," Irina said, gesturing toward the now-empty plate, "these aren't the kind of

thing you just decide to make. They're specific. The herbs, the balance of flavors-it's not your usual style. So why? Why did you make these?"

Astron shrugged, his expression unreadable. "I wanted to make something different,"

he said simply. "That's all."

"That's all?" Irina repeated, her skepticism clear. "You expect me to believe that?"

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling faintly at the corners. "Why not? Do you think I

made them for some grand reason?"

Her eyes narrowed further. "Yes," she said bluntly. "Because there's no way you just happened to pick the exact herbs I like by chance.""

"What herbs?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

Irina crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair as she listed them off. "Thymeleaf,

firemint, and shadow basil. The exact three you used for the patties. How did you

know to use those?"

Astron didn't respond immediately, his gaze steady as he watched her. For a moment,

the silence between them stretched, the tension palpable. Then he shrugged again, his tone as nonchalant as ever.

"I didn't know," he said. "I just picked what I had."