Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 987

The soft click of the door echoed as Irina pushed it open, stepping into the cool stillness of her dorm. The lights overhead were set to a low, warm hue—calming, but bright enough to work by. Outside the windows, the faint glow of the academy’s tower lanterns shimmered through the glass, casting long shadows across the polished floors.

It was quiet.

Not just in her room—but throughout the hall.

The Top 10 dorms were always more subdued than the rest of the student housing, but this week, with mid-terms fast approaching, it felt like the entire building was holding its breath. Even the usual ambient noise—footsteps in the hallway, muted conversation, the occasional laughter—had vanished, replaced by silence and focus.

Irina didn’t mind it.

She stepped aside to let Astron in, and he entered without a word, immediately removing his coat and setting it neatly over the back of a chair. He moved through the space with a quiet familiarity, as though this weren’t the first time—and it wasn’t.

Irina kicked her boots off, stretching slightly as she turned toward the kitchenette at the side of the room. "Make yourself comfortable," she said over her shoulder, already moving toward the small counter. "I got things ready this time."

Astron raised an eyebrow as he watched her rummage through the kitchenette, the faintest shift in his usually neutral expression betraying something that looked suspiciously like a challenge.

Irina caught it immediately.

She narrowed her eyes and turned her head, already shooting him a pointed look. "What?"

"Nothing," he replied smoothly, his tone just a little too casual.

Irina’s eyes narrowed further. "You just thought of something rude."

"That depends," Astron said, glancing away as he unfastened his gloves with deliberate calm, "on what you consider rude."

She didn’t answer that. She just stared—long and flat—until he finally gave in with a sigh and started walking toward the table.

"Go and sit," she muttered.

"Yes, yes," he replied mildly, as if indulging her.

Irina rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched into a grin as she turned back to the counter. A minute later, she carried over a tray loaded with everything she’d prepped: a pair of ceramic mugs, neatly stacked books and study sheets, and a plate of carefully arranged snacks—small pastries, spiced nuts, and a couple of finger sandwiches.

Astron looked down at it all with his usual unreadable expression, though she caught the slight raise of his brow again.

Irina dropped onto the cushion opposite him and set the tray between them. "Before you ask," she said, grabbing her mug, "yes. I made them."

Astron didn’t immediately touch the food. Instead, he glanced over the arrangement once more—his eyes flicking from the perfectly-aligned pastries to the slightly uneven cut on one of the sandwiches, the way a few crumbs had been carefully brushed aside but not entirely hidden.

"I already knew you made them," he said, his tone even.

Irina raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "Oh?"

"You’re not usually this deliberate with presentation," Astron continued. "The plating is tidy, but not natural. It’s trying to follow a predetermined structure—one that doesn’t come from repetition, but reference."

He picked up one of the sandwiches, rotating it slightly between his fingers. "You followed a video. Probably watched it twice. Tried to mimic what you saw—down to the angle of the tea cups."

Irina stared at him for a second, lips parted, then scoffed and looked away, brushing a hand through her bangs to hide the faint blush creeping into her cheeks.

"…So what?" she muttered, pretending to focus on her tea.

Astron didn’t press, just sipped from his mug.

Irina threw him a sidelong glance. "I just didn’t expect you to notice that much detail."

"Why?" he asked.

"Why, you ask?" She leaned back, arms crossed. "Because you’re supposed to be the kind of guy who just eats food without thinking about where it came from."

Astron blinked. "That doesn’t sound like me."

Irina snorted. "No, it doesn’t." She looked at him again, this time with a smirk. "Heh… You know, I’m not some sort of sheltered princess who can’t cook."

Astron paused, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly—not with judgment, just quiet skepticism. freēwebnovel.com