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墨書 Inktalez
At noon, in the cafeteria.
As he walked into the cafeteria, he noticed that many people had come out, but compared to the large crowd in the morning, it seemed like only a fraction remained. In a sense, the idea that anyone could be an enemy was being validated.
Aside from Freyr and Xiong Tai, almost everyone else was either in pairs or sitting alone, their eyes filled with resentment and distrust. They watched the newcomers warily, turning their heads away in silence when someone attempted to greet them.
The atmosphere felt quite off. Freyr ordered three sandwiches, two pounds of chicken breast, and three pounds of beef. To avoid gaining fat, he even cut out pork from his diet. For drinks, he opted for a glass of Orange Juice; this was enough to sustain him through his workout.
He found a table for two and sat down. Meanwhile, Xiong Tai's lunch consisted of a high-calorie cholesterol feast. Given his eating habits, it was no wonder he had to juggle multiple jobs; without working, he couldn't afford to feed his appetite.
Xiong Tai leaned over to glance at Freyr and laughed, "Hey, eating so little? You should eat like a man—boldly and without restraint! In that regard, you can't compare to me, haha!"
Freyr replied quietly, "Eating that much puts a huge burden on your body. Besides, you need to lose weight; it would be good for your cardiovascular health. The assessment this afternoon might be tough, so overeating isn't wise."
Sometimes he couldn't understand why someone would eat alone yet be so anxious about others stealing their food.
Xiong Tai scooped up food with his hands like a spoon and quickly shoved it into his mouth. "Mmm~ Delicious! I've really learned something today; the food in big cities is indeed tasty—and it's free! This is fantastic; I’m going to enjoy every bite."
By the time Xiong Tai finished the large bowl of lamb chops, Freyr had barely eaten half of one sandwich. The pressure on him suddenly felt overwhelming. He understood why; all eyes were on him as if he were a plush gorilla being observed while eating.
Freyr hurriedly pulled out a baseball cap from his bag and put it on his head, hoping to go unnoticed.
After finishing his little disguise, Xiong Tai filled another large bowl with rice topped with Caviar. The Caviar was still steaming and paired with white rice looked unappetizing to most people. Yet Xiong Tai swallowed half a bowl in one go, his appetite seemingly insatiable. "Delicious! I've never had this before, but it's really good!"
Freyr's lips twitched slightly as he hurriedly pulled his cap lower, yet he ultimately refrained from pointing out their current predicament to Xiong Tai. The two of them sitting together was already suspicious enough, especially after Xiong Tai's loud antics that morning. Freyr quickly found himself suffering the consequences of Xiong Tai's high-profile behavior. In other words, the more Xiong Tai acted ostentatiously, the more Freyr's low-key demeanor inadvertently turned into something more conspicuous. The suspicion between people was indeed frightening, but he couldn't confront it directly; otherwise, things could get even worse.
Xiong Tai, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to everything around him. Nothing was more important than eating; if he embarrassed himself, so be it. Besides, if anyone wanted to pick a fight with him, he had never lost a brawl. With this belief in mind, he asked the cafeteria lady for three large bowls of rice with side dishes. It turned out he also cared about nutrition, adding spinach and carrots to his meal.
This drew a collective disdain from the other students.
After finishing their meal, Freyr went out first to check the Bulletin Board. Any information regarding the exam would likely appear there first. After learning about the gathering time and specific location, he prepared to warm up a bit.
For warming up, he only did some light exercises to help digest the food in his stomach and ensure it was empty before engaging in any intense activity; otherwise, he risked severe pain or even vomiting during strenuous exercise.
Xiong Tai had his own unique way of working out, a true example of aesthetic violence. He brought along a Dumbbell weighing fifty kilograms, dragging it with one hand while pulling it parallel over his shoulder. He did this for several hundred repetitions until he worked up a light sweat. This amount of sweat was hardly significant; perhaps it was merely a warm-up for simple exercises.
Meanwhile, both sides continued their warm-up routines. After more than two hours of stretching and practice, their bodies were perfectly adjusted—not too full nor sluggish from digestion—ready for further training with spirits soaring.
On the sixth floor of the Hunter Association, this entire level was considered a restricted area, a semi-private living space where only those who received orders could enter and exit.
Moreover, within the entire Hunter Association, only two individuals had the privilege to come and go freely: Vice President Clinton and President Hilbert. They were rivals and currently held both power and prestige among humanity.
On this sixth floor, which served as their office space, Clinton had just stepped off the elevator with a cheerful demeanor, his eyes squinting into slits. He turned sharply around a corner without knocking and pushed open the door to enter a room.
A voice called out urgently from deep within the room, "Ah! Clinton! You need to knock before entering my room, you old bastard! You've made me spill everything outside!"
Clinton looked at the layout of the room in shock and rubbed his forehead before letting out a slow sigh. "I really don't want to know if you've gone crazy again. As far as I know, your aesthetic style is miles apart from mine. Of course, I care more about cleanliness than you do. If you want me to knock next time, you should at least install a doorbell at your entrance. And please don’t leave the door half-open! Also, are you pressing your toilet in your bedroom or have you set up your bedroom in your office? I truly don’t want to know or understand your twisted preferences."
Footsteps echoed in the room, and soon a disheveled figure appeared, dressed in an ill-fitting suit with sleeves too long, the back of his shirt tucked awkwardly into his pants. A pair of shiny boots clattered against the white tiles, producing a bright sound. However, as the figure drew closer, a pungent odor wafted through the air.
Clinton could hardly stand the smell and exclaimed in frustration, "I can't take it anymore! Is that cheap cologne expired? And why do you always look so unkempt? I can't understand why you're made President; it truly baffles me."
As Clinton's gaze met the figure before him, it felt as if a fog had obscured his vision. By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late; an overwhelming scent made his nose tingle and redden. Soon, a person stood right in front of him.
The newcomer was indeed scruffy and unkempt, but his hair was strikingly glossy and styled. Hilbert smiled and extended his hand, saying, "Ah, this is the charm of a man. My new cologne smells great, doesn't it? Plus, I just had something called Stinky Tofu; I brought some for you to try. We can discuss everything else slowly afterward."
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