The Rhodes Island cafeteria usually resonated with a harmonious hum of conversation, a place where operators gathered after a long shift to unwind and share stories over a hot meal.
Today, however, the atmosphere was markedly different. Both the kitchen staff and the visiting operators wore grim, solemn expressions as they watched the entrance like sentries guarding a fortress gate.
For today marked the arrival of the entity who challenged Rhodes Island's food reserves on a daily basis—the nightmare of the kitchen, the terror of competitive eaters, the terminator of the rice supply, and the sworn enemy of Doctor Kal'tsit's blood pressure: Fafnir.
The sole person beaming with pure, unadulterated joy was Hibiscus. Because the one person on the entire ship who genuinely enjoyed her nutritional meals—and possessed the capacity to consume multiple portions without a single complaint—had finally arrived. Hibiscus was practically vibrating with professional enthusiasm.
The operators gathered around didn't have the heart to object. If Hibiscus wanted to cook her infamous health meals for the dragon, they were more than happy to let her go wild. After all, such an eager consumer was a rare sight indeed.
Operator Hibiscus possessed a very specialized culinary repertoire, centered almost entirely around her patented nutritional meals. It was a strange kind of sustenance—food so relentlessly healthy that it provoked a visceral desire to curse the heavens upon the first bite.
No one could quite fathom the talent required to strip every conceivable speck of flavor from a dish, reducing it to a pure, unadulterated essence of health that defied human acceptance.
In theory, the meals were exceptionally nutritious. In practice, they abandoned flavor entirely, earning their reputation as Rhodes Island's culinary boogeyman.
Before Fafnir entered the picture, Hibiscus typically prepared only a few portions a day, mostly consumed by budget-conscious operators looking to save a few LMD. Today, however, felt like a national holiday for the young Sarkaz.
And Fafnir didn't seem to mind the taste at all. Perhaps a dragon's palate operated on entirely different principles, because the child dug into the gray, viscous concoction with undisguised delight.
"Relax, we aren't going to clear out Rhodes Island's entire pantry," Jeanne muttered, casting an apologetic look toward Amiya, whose gaze remained fixed with fierce determination. "I have a rough idea of how much this child eats."
Jeanne still felt a twinge of guilt over the last time she failed to monitor the dragon, resulting in an all-you-can-eat disaster.
Besides, she thought defensively, didn't I pay for every last bite? I had to shake a small mountain of gold out of Fafnir's hoard just to cover the damages! Why is everyone still holding a grudge?
"Jeanne, it's not that Rhodes Island is stingy with food," Amiya replied gently, her voice carrying a touching earnestness. "It's just that we have a massive wave of refugees to feed right now. Supplies are tight. Please be considerate."
Her tone made Jeanne feel like an irresponsible pet owner. Did the poor bunny really think she was completely clueless about logistical pressures?
While they talked, Fafnir happily finished another bowl, her stomach showing not the slightest sign of expansion—a physiological mystery that defied all logic.
In the end, Amiya's mission proved successful. Through a joint effort between Jeanne and the young rabbit, Fafnir was cut off at the halfway mark, leaving Amiya to wipe the cold sweat from her forehead in profound relief.
As they finally departed the cafeteria, Hibiscus followed them all the way to the corridor, gazing at Fafnir with such profound affection that she looked ready to adopt the dragon on the spot.
Back in their quarters, Jeanne found Talulah waiting for her with a narrowed, calculating gaze, clearly plotting some form of retaliation.
Unfortunately for the Draco, her ambush failed miserably. Within twenty minutes, Talulah found herself pinned, utterly baffled as to how her surprise attack had backfired so completely.
"I am begging you, please just keep your mouth shut for the next few days," Talulah groaned, pressing her face against the carpet. "If your jinxing mouth makes another prediction that drags us into a disaster halfway across the empire, my nerves won't survive it."
"I told you, it has nothing to do with me!" Jeanne protested, sitting comfortably on top of her friend and scratching her head in exasperation. "It's pure coincidence! Why won't you just believe me?"
"I know, I just want some peace of mind," Talulah sighed, her tone heavy with exhaustion. "We were supposed to just be dropping by Victoria to look around, but ever since I ran into you, my life has been one continuous crisis."
Even someone with Talulah's legendary mental fortitude was reaching her limit. If one more major catastrophe dropped into her lap, she was ready to start swinging punches. Just how was she supposed to live like this?
Listening to the complaints, Jeanne couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt. She really had added a mountain of paperwork to Talulah's workload, culminating in a diplomatic meeting that tested everyone's blood pressure.
"Alright, I get it. You've had a rough time," Jeanne conceded, patting Talulah's back. "I promise I'll keep quiet for a while, okay? But for the record, I am not a walking curse. Like, if I were to say right now that—mmpf?!"
Before Jeanne could finish her sentence, Talulah lunged forward with lightning speed, clamping her tail firmly over Jeanne's mouth. There was zero chance she was going to let that sentence finish! Who knew what kind of cosmic disaster would trigger if Jeanne actually spoke her mind?
Jeanne muffled an indignant protest behind the scaly tail, struggling against the weight. How dare Talulah resort to physical suppression! She began twisting and wriggling, desperate to break free.
Fafnir, standing nearby, tilted her head in utter confusion, watching the two adults wrestle on the floor with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
It took nearly half an hour for the tangle of limbs to finally untangle.
Jeanne collapsed onto the floor, chest heaving as she glared at a similarly breathless Talulah. Seizing the tip of Talulah's tail, Jeanne gave it a sharp, petty tug. "Are you trying to suffocate me? If my physical stats weren't so high, I'd have passed out!"
"If I hadn't done that, your reckless mouth would have cursed us all by dinner!" Talulah snapped back, swatting lazily at Jeanne's head. "Can't you give me a break? I don't have your ridiculous stamina!"
"I said I wouldn't say anything! At worst, it would just be something minor like you forgetting your ID card tomorrow. You have to trust my track record!"
"Trust your track record?" Talulah shot back incredulously. "When have your plans ever gone off without a hitch? When do I not have to stand guard as your personal safety net?"
"You—!"
Irritated by the mocking tone, Jeanne's eyes locked onto the twitching tail resting dangerously close to her hand. A mischievous spark flickered in her gaze.
"What are you doing? Don't touch my tail, let go! You—!" Talulah yelped, her voice jumping an octave as Jeanne launched a surprise counter-attack.
The two of them resumed their chaotic brawling across the floor, completely unbothered by whether their undignified rolling around might set a bad example. Well, Fafnir was practically an adult in dragon terms anyway—size-wise, calling her a child was a stretch.
Outside the door, Kal'tsit had just walked up to discuss an upcoming logistical report. She paused, standing entirely still in the hallway as various suspicious sounds drifted through the wooden panels.
Amiya, trailing close behind, stared blankly at the door. Her face turned bright crimson as her ears drooped sharply against her head. In that single, echoing moment of youthful realization, the young rabbit suddenly understood a great deal about the complexities of adult relationships.
"Children have no business listening to this!" Kal'tsit remarked flatly, spinning around and grabbing the blushing rabbit by the ear to haul her away without a second thought.
Only, as Jeanne walked out the next morning, she couldn't help noticing that Amiya kept giving her the strangest, most profoundly complicated look she had ever seen.