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“Alright, genius, we get it,” Milo cuts in, waving his fork.

Isaak’s eyes narrow, unimpressed.

Milo points to Hunter’s plate. “And what about you? Didn’t you order chicken?”

Mr Wardgrave glances down at the suspiciously neat strips on his dish. “Seems so.”

Milo gestures at it. “So what’s that supposed to be then? Faux chicken? How can chicken be vegan?”

Isaak exhales sharply, clearly affronted by the stupidity. “Vegan chicken is made from plant proteins, soy, seitan, pea isolate, even mycoprotein. Combined with vegetable oils, seasonings, and stabilisers to replicate the texture and taste of poultry.”

Arlo allows the faintest ghost of a smirk. “Plenty of things are possible these days.”

Milo stabs the food again as if he might bend it to his will. “So what, you’re telling me we live in some bloody vegan utopia now? All I wanted was a plate of meatballs.”

“You’re not far off,” Arlo drawls.

Isaak turns his head towards him, suspicious. “You mean to say the academy’s entire menu has been replaced in the space of an afternoon?”

“Apparently,” Arlo says with the faintest shrug. “New supplier. New ethos. What do I know?”

Octavia, who’s been watching the exchange with a look of delight, leans forward. “This is suspicious.”

Arlo barely flicks his eyes toward her, his expression bored. “How so?”

“Ophelia is vegan,” she says smoothly. “And someone’s gone and changed the entire academy menu to be vegan too. Rather thoughtful of them, wouldn’t you say?”

His gaze stays flat and uninterested. “Who said I had anything to do with it?”

Octavia’s mouth opens to retort, but Milo slams in first.

“My hand’s itching for the blade I’ve got tucked on me, and the more you keep talking to my woman, the more tempting it gets to plant it in your shoulder, Arlo.”

Arlo finally gives him a look, but before he can speak Octavia shoots Milo a glare cold enough to slice him in two.

“Psycho,” Octavia hisses. “Stop proving my nickname for you is earned.”

Milo lets out an exaggerated groan, then whirls toward us, his grin stretched wide and unhinged. “Ahh, she spoke to me. Did you hear that? I’m in heaven, she actually spoke tome!” He jabs an elbow into Arlo’s ribs, his eyes glittering.

“You are, without question, clinically insane,” Arlo mutters.

Milo only grins wider, swinging back to fix my sister with his gaze. “We’re destined, spitfire. Don’t waste your breath pretending otherwise.”

Octavia doesn’t flinch. “Yes, you’re destined to die, and I’m destined to be the one who kills you.”

Milo slaps the table, triumphant, his laughter ringing out. “She adores me. This is hate to love in its purest form. Real as it gets. Tell me I’m wrong, lads.” He gestures to the boys, waiting for them to agree.

I can’t help myself, a smile tugs at my lips despite everything, and I shake my head at the absurdity of it.

Around us, the hall is alive with the hum of voices. More than a few students are eyeing their dinners with suspicion, nudging at their plates as if afraid of what might be lurking there.

Did Arlo really do this? Change the entire menu?

But why would he?

I’ve been vegan for as long as I can remember. It’s not something I ever push on others, everyone makes their own choices, and I respect that. Even Octavia isn’t vegan. She never has been. But she always tries to avoid eating meat in front of me.

And if she’s right… if Arlo actually did this… then what does it mean?