The common waiting hall remained lively.
Students filled countless tables.
Excited conversations echoed through the enormous chamber.
Some discussed entrance examinations.
Others compared academy reputations.
Parents gave last-minute advice.
Friends exchanged promises to meet again.
The atmosphere felt strangely warm.
Like a crossroads where countless futures briefly intersected before separating once more.
Above, ancient crystal chandeliers illuminated the hall with soft golden light.
Outside the enormous windows, snow continued falling beyond the city walls.
The teleportation station never truly rested.
Every few minutes, another batch departed.
Another group vanished toward their chosen futures.
Meanwhile—
Kel and the others sat around a wooden table near one corner of the common area.
After arriving, Kel had immediately walked toward the food counter.
Now he returned carrying nothing.
Simply sat down.
And relaxed.
Darius watched him curiously.
The swordsman looked toward the counter.
Then back toward Kel.
Then toward the counter again.
Eventually curiosity won.
"Brother."
Kel looked up.
"Yes?"
Darius pointed toward the food area.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
"No."
"The order?"
"No."
Darius blinked.
"The food."
Kel nodded.
"Yes."
"..."
"..."
"..."
The swordsman stared.
Then asked carefully.
"Aren't you supposed to stand there and wait for them to finish?"
Kel looked confused.
"Why?"
The answer immediately stunned Darius.
The young swordsman pointed dramatically toward the counter.
"Because that's where food comes from."
Theo nearly laughed.
Lyanna covered her mouth.
Kel calmly answered.
"I asked whether they deliver orders to tables."
Silence.
The three blinked.
"You did?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"They said yes."
Darius frowned.
"Then why doesn't everyone do that?"
Kel shrugged.
"There is an additional fee."
The swordsman immediately understood.
Then nodded.
"Ah."
"Exactly."
The mystery was solved.
Unfortunately—
Kel continued speaking.
"I paid it."
The three froze again.
Darius looked toward the counter.
Then toward Kel.
Then toward the counter again.
His expression became increasingly complicated.
"You paid extra?"
"Yes."
"To avoid standing there?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Kel answered naturally.
"Because my order requires approximately fifteen minutes."
The swordsman looked confused.
"So?"
Kel tilted his head.
"So?"
The table became silent.
Several nearby students accidentally began listening.
Then Kel calmly explained.
"If I stand there for fifteen minutes doing nothing..."
His finger tapped the wooden table.
"Then I have wasted fifteen minutes."
The three looked at one another.
Kel continued.
"If I sit here."
"Read."
"Think."
"Study."
"Rest."
"Observe."
"Plan."
"Or simply enjoy tea."
"Then those same fifteen minutes become useful."
The hall became strangely quiet around their table.
Not because Kel spoke loudly.
Because the logic felt difficult to argue against.
Darius opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Then finally asked:
"But..."
"What?"
"It's only fifteen minutes."
Kel nodded.
"Correct."
Darius immediately pointed.
"Exactly."
Kel looked at him.
Then calmly asked:
"If someone offered you fifteen gold coins."
"Would you throw them away?"
The swordsman froze.
"...No."
Kel nodded.
"Then why throw away fifteen minutes?"
Silence.
The question landed differently.
Because everyone understood.
Time.
Money.
Both resources.
Both limited.
Both valuable.
Theo looked thoughtful.
Lyanna looked thoughtful.
Even Gareth looked thoughtful.
Inside Kel's mind—
Seiren laughed.
"There it is again."
"What?"
"You accidentally teaching people."
"I answered a question."
"You always answer questions."
Unfortunately.
She wasn't wrong.
Meanwhile—
Darius still looked troubled.
Then he asked:
"Fine."
"I understand the time part."
Kel nodded.
"But what exactly are you planning to do during those fifteen minutes?"
The swordsman crossed his arms.
Looking victorious.
As though he had discovered a flaw.
After all.
Most people wouldn't accomplish much in fifteen minutes.
Kel calmly reached into his travel bag.
Then pulled out a book.
A relatively thick book.
Dark blue cover.
Silver lettering.
Ancient paper.
The title immediately confused everyone.
Meditative Observation and Internal Focus
The table became silent.
Theo slowly read the title.
Then looked up.
Then looked back at the title.
Then looked up again.
"...What?"
Darius looked equally confused.
Lyanna stared.
The title felt completely out of place.
Students usually carried books about magic.
Swordsmanship.
Combat.
Academy examinations.
History.
Politics.
Not...
Whatever this was.
Kel opened the book naturally.
As though nothing strange had happened.
Then answered.
"I can read three to five pages."
The table froze.
The answer sounded so ordinary.
Yet somehow made everything stranger.
Darius pointed dramatically toward the book.
"That's what you're reading?"
"Yes."
"Right now?"
"Yes."
"Before entering Aetherial Institute?"
"Yes."
The swordsman looked genuinely confused.
"Why?"
Kel closed the book temporarily.
Then thought for a moment.
How should he explain it?
Eventually—
He chose honesty.
Because the truth was simple.
"My current reading is related to studying."
The three looked surprised.
"Studying?"
Lyanna asked.
Kel nodded.
"It teaches methods of calming the mind."
"Improving focus."
"Strengthening attention."
The table listened carefully.
Kel continued.
"When your mind becomes calmer..."
"You notice more things."
"When your attention improves..."
"Your observation improves."
"When your observation improves..."
"Your understanding improves."
His voice remained calm.
Steady.
Measured.
The words flowed naturally.
Not like a teacher.
More like someone explaining something obvious.
Kel continued.
"Mana sensing improves."
"Aura perception improves."
"Decision-making improves."
"Emotional control improves."
"Situational awareness improves."
The hall around them continued bustling.
Yet the four listeners seemed completely absorbed.
Then Kel added:
"When pressure appears."
"The mind remains stable."
"When danger appears."
"The mind remains clear."
"When confusion appears."
"The mind remains focused."
For several moments—
No one spoke.
The words sounded simple.
Yet strangely profound.
Kel continued turning pages.
"As for why I read it now."
His silver eyes lifted toward them.
"Because understanding others begins with understanding yourself."
The sentence lingered.
Quietly.
Deeply.
Like a stone falling into still water.
Darius froze.
Lyanna froze.
Theo froze.
Even Gareth froze.
The entire table became silent.
Because suddenly—
They realized something.
All four possessed goals.
Dreams.
Ambitions.
Yet none of them had ever seriously considered understanding themselves.
They trained skills.
Memorized information.
Practiced techniques.
Prepared for examinations.
But self-understanding?
Very few people actively pursued it.
The realization struck unexpectedly.
Darius slowly lowered his gaze.
The swordsman remembered countless training sessions.
He always pushed harder.
Swung faster.
Trained longer.
Yet he rarely questioned why.
Rarely examined his own weaknesses.
Rarely examined himself.
Lyanna looked thoughtful.
As a future mage, she spent endless hours studying magical theory.
Yet her emotions often disrupted concentration.
Perhaps...
Understanding herself mattered more than she realized.
Theo looked even more shaken.
Because the aspiring mage suddenly realized something embarrassing.
He wanted to become powerful.
But he barely understood his own habits.
His own fears.
His own motivations.
The realization felt uncomfortable.
And enlightening.
Nearby.
Several students who accidentally overheard the conversation also became thoughtful.
Meanwhile—
Kel simply reopened the book.
As though nothing unusual had happened.
As though he hadn't just casually shattered several perspectives.
Inside his mind—
Seiren laughed softly.
"Look at their faces."
Kel turned a page.
"You broke them."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"They're questioning their entire life path."
Kel ignored her.
Far away within Scarder Lake, the Guardian sounded thoroughly entertained.
Fifteen minutes passed quietly.
Kel read.
The others thought.
Occasionally discussing ideas among themselves.
The atmosphere around the table gradually changed.
More reflective.
More thoughtful.
Less noisy.
Then eventually—
A station worker arrived carrying a tray.
Several dishes.
Tea.
Bread.
Soup.
Simple travel food.
The worker smiled.
"Order for Mister Flinth."
Kel closed his book.
"Thank you."
The worker nodded and departed.
Darius stared.
Then looked toward the counter.
Then toward the food.
Then toward Kel.
Then sighed.
"You were right."
Kel blinked.
"About what?"
"The fifteen minutes."
The swordsman rubbed his forehead.
"I think I understand now."
Theo nodded.
"So do I."
Lyanna smiled faintly.
"Me too."
Kel looked mildly confused.
Because in his mind—
He had simply spent fifteen minutes reading.
Nothing extraordinary.
Yet the others looked at him differently now.
Not because he was stronger.
Not because he was smarter.
But because they had just witnessed something unusual.
Someone who treated time itself as valuable.
Someone who deliberately invested small moments instead of wasting them.
The realization lingered.
And somewhere within their hearts—
A tiny seed had been planted.
A seed that might grow in the future.
As announcements echoed throughout the station and teleportation batches continued departing—
Aedon Flinth quietly ate his meal.
Read his book.
And unknowingly taught three future academy students a lesson they would remember for years.
That fifteen minutes.
Was never just fifteen minutes.
Because futures were often built from moments everyone else ignored.