Ember Reborn: The Flame That Defied Fate-Chapter 50: Spice Pride -

After the "Practical Combat Training" lecture—shocking, terrifying, and somehow exhausting in ways that had nothing to do with swinging a sword—ended...

I did what any sane man would do.

I tried to disappear.

I slid my chair back quietly. Kept my steps light. Made sure my expression screamed I am not here. I even angled my body toward the door like I was just another anonymous cadet trying to survive the day.

"Well then," I muttered, "I’ll be off—"

"Stop."

Something grabbed the back of my collar.

Firmly.

Like a predator catching prey.

I froze.

Slowly turning my head, I saw Iris smiling so brightly it could’ve fooled the sun itself.

If you ignored the shadow in her eyes.

"Where do you think you’re going, Dale?"

"Well..." I tried. "I have something urgent to take care of."

"Didn’t I tell you to stay after class today?"

"...."

My spine went cold.

I turned my eyes toward Camilla.

Help.

Please.

Camilla stood there for half a second, met my gaze... and immediately coughed.

"Ahem. Lady Saint, I’m not feeling well today, so I think I should head back early."

"Oh, really?" Iris replied sweetly. "In that case, you should rest. Take care."

"I’ll see you tomorrow morning!" Camilla chirped.

Then she turned around and sprinted away like her life depended on it.

"W-wait—!"

I didn’t even get to finish.

She was gone.

Traitor.

I barely had time to process my betrayal before Iris tightened her grip on my collar and stepped closer, still smiling.

I braced myself.

Hours of interrogation.

An emotional storm.

A holy lecture so long I’d start seeing my past life.

Instead—

Iris released my collar... and lightly took my hand.

"Shall we go have lunch together?"

"...Huh?"

Her expression stiffened.

"Huh? What do you mean, ’huh’?" she repeated, offended. "Don’t you remember? We agreed to have lunch together every Monday."

"Oh," I said quickly. "Right. I remember."

It was so normal that it made me suspicious.

Given what happened earlier—Elisha’s "verification," her staring, her threats, her everything—I was ready for Iris to explode.

But she didn’t.

She just... held my hand. Calmly.

Then she spoke like a judge delivering a verdict.

"You weren’t the one who started it," she said.

"...Started what?"

Iris squeezed my hand once, like she was warning me not to play dumb.

"The incident," she clarified. "With Professor Elisha."

Oh.

That incident.

I swallowed.

"She forced it under the excuse of an investigation, right?"

"Uh, yeah," I said quickly. "That’s right."

"Good." Iris nodded firmly. "Then it doesn’t count as anything."

"...Anything?"

"It was basically a rude inspection," she said, face totally serious, as if she were discussing sword maintenance. "Not... not a meaningful act."

I blinked.

"And you agree," she added, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"O-of course."

"Good."

Iris exhaled like she’d just completed a difficult ritual.

Then her expression softened into something almost gentle.

"You didn’t do anything wrong," she said. "So don’t think about it too much, okay?"

I hesitated, then nodded.

"...Okay."

She smiled—real this time.

"Good. Now let’s erase the bad memory."

She tugged my hand and started walking.

"To the cafeteria."

"The cafeteria?" I repeated.

I couldn’t help being confused.

Doesn’t she have professional chefs? Meals planned with holy nutrition? Plates blessed by the Seven Gods?

Why would she want the academy cafeteria?

Then Iris looked over her shoulder and said, far too casually—

"I feel like eating something you make today."

"...Ah."

If it was something I made...

There was really only one thing she meant.

"You want ramen."

"Ahem." Iris cleared her throat and looked away. "Th-that’s not it."

"It is it."

"You used to call it junk food," I reminded her. "You complained it was unhealthy."

"S-shut up!" Iris snapped, cheeks turning pink. She slapped me lightly on the back—more embarrassment than violence.

I couldn’t stop a laugh.

"Alright," I said, lifting both hands in surrender. "We’ll get ingredients at the campus store."

"Yes!" Iris nodded instantly, all dignity abandoned.

We headed across campus.

The academy’s convenience store was small—shockingly small for a place that trained the future defenders of the continent.

Not many cadets used it.

The dining hall handled most meals.

But that also meant it was quiet.

Less crowded.

Less eyes.

Safer.

"This is the store?" Iris asked, looking around with curiosity.

"Is this your first time here?"

"Yes," she admitted. "I never had a reason to come."

Makes sense.

If chefs made everything for you, you’d never step into a place where the main selling point was "cheap and fast."

Iris’s eyes sparkled as she wandered the aisles.

"Wow... there are so many things I’ve never seen before."

Even though it was small, the store carried items from all three nations: the Empire, the Holy Kingdom, and the Republic. Students lived together here, after all.

And the differences were obvious.

The Empire section was mostly bread, dried meat, heavy snacks—things soldiers would pack for a march.

The Holy Kingdom section was clean and orderly, filled with vegetables, teas, health supplements, and "purity snacks" that looked like they’d been blessed before being bagged.

The Republic section was... chaos.

Instant meals.

Meal kits.

Packets that came with heating stones.

Canned food with labels that looked like weapon schematics.

Just looking at the shelves felt like looking at three cultures arguing in silence.

"Dale! Come here!"

Iris sounded like a child discovering treasure.

She stood in front of a wall lined with ramen.

So much ramen.

Boxes and packets stacked like a fortress.

"There’s... there’s so much!" she whispered, eyes wide.

"Yep," I said. "Varieties for days."

"Amazing..."

I laughed. "To be honest, a lot of them taste similar."

"There are differences," Iris insisted, scrutinizing the packets like a scholar studying ancient scripture.

Then she suddenly pointed.

"Oh! This is the one you made for me last time."

A red packet.

Bold letters.

And a single character printed large: 辛.

"That one is super popular," I explained.

Iris tilted her head. "What does that character mean? It isn’t continental script."

"I heard it’s an old Republic script," I said.

"But I studied Republic language," Iris frowned. "I don’t remember seeing characters like that."

"...It’s complicated."

I honestly didn’t know why they kept using it either.

"Think of it as ancient writing," I said. "Like a relic that never fully disappeared."

Iris brightened.

"From before the Republic people arrived in this world?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Something like that."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"It’s like ancient traces lingering in modern language."

"Exactly."

Sometimes I forgot how sharp she was.

Then Iris looked back at the packet.

"So what does ’辛’ mean?"

"It means ’spicy.’"

"Oh." Iris nodded. "It was spicy."

And she looked... slightly proud.

Which told me everything.

That intense flavor probably hit her like a revelation compared to Holy Kingdom cuisine.

"Since we’re here," I said, "why don’t you pick another one to try?"

"Won’t it be hard to cook?" she asked.

"Ramen’s ramen," I replied. "Don’t worry."

"Hm."

She scanned the shelves with absolute seriousness, like a knight selecting a sacred sword.

Then she picked up a black packet.

Big lettering: Buldak.

My smile froze.

"...Uh."

Iris looked up immediately. "Why did you make that sound?"

"That one’s... different," I said carefully.

"Different how?"

"It’s stir-fry ramen," I explained. "Not soup."

Her eyes lit up.

"Ramen without soup?"

"...Yes."

"I want it."

I hesitated.

Iris narrowed her eyes.

"...Dale?"

"It’s just," I said slowly, "that brand is really spicy."

Even Republic citizens avoided it.

Or bragged about surviving it like it was a war story.

Iris’s expression shifted into smug confidence.

"Ah."

I blinked. "What?"

"This is that Republic thing Camilla told me about."

"What Republic thing?"

Iris puffed her chest slightly.

"Republic citizens always act dramatic when they meet people from other nations. ’Is this spicy for you?’ ’You can’t handle it,’ ’Oh, it’s too much for your weak tongue.’"

"...That’s not—"

"They called it..." Iris snapped her fingers. "Ah. ’Spice Pride.’"

She stared at me like she’d solved a mystery.

"I didn’t expect it," she said smugly, "but you’re no different from other Republic citizens, are you?"

I stared back.

"...Are you serious?"

"Hehe." Iris smiled sweetly. "I can handle spice."

"You said that last time too."

"And I ate your ramen without complaining," she insisted.

"The mild spicy one," I reminded her.

"Still!" Iris lifted the Buldak packet like a trophy. "I want to try this."

I sighed.

There was no stopping her.

"...Alright," I said. "If you insist."

Iris beamed.

"I insist!"

"Then we’ll do it properly," I said. "And we’re buying drinks too."

"Agreed!"

* * *

After paying for the ramen and some drinks, we headed to my dorm.

Compared to Iris’s room—probably equipped like a royal kitchen—mine was painfully basic.

But I had a portable burner and a pot.

Enough for ramen.

I cooked quickly, familiar motions.

Boil.

Drain.

Sauce.

Stir.

Steam rising like a warning.

When it was ready, I placed the bowl in front of Iris.

There it was.

Fiery red noodles. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Sauce clinging like paint.

Iris leaned forward, eyes sparkling.

"Hehe. Time to prove myself."

She lifted her chopsticks with ceremonial pride and took a big bite.

Chew.

Chew.

Then—

"Wow."

Her eyes widened.

"This is... really good!"

I sat across from her calmly.

Waiting.

Patiently.

Iris took another bite.

Then another.

Confidence rising.

"It’s not as spicy as I thought it would be—"

She froze.

Her pupils widened.

Her shoulders stiffened.

A beat of silence.

Then—

"Ugh—!"

Her face tightened like she’d been struck by lightning.

"It’s spicy!" she squeaked, voice cracking. "What is this?!"

She grabbed her own cheeks like she could physically remove the heat.

Her eyes watered instantly.

Her feet stomped the floor in panic.

Watching the Saint of the Holy Kingdom—normally calm, dignified, untouchable—lose a battle to noodles...

It took everything in me not to laugh.

I covered my mouth.

Failed.

A snort escaped.

Iris snapped her glare toward me, tears in her eyes.

"Dale!"

"Sorry," I said, trying to sound innocent. "I warned you."

"This isn’t spicy!" Iris wheezed. "This is an attack!"

"It’s a stir-fry style," I said calmly. "The sauce is concentrated."

"I hate the Republic," Iris hissed, voice trembling.

"Strong words."

She reached for her drink like a drowning person reaching for air.

I slid her a cup.

"Here," I said. "Ginger tea."

Iris grabbed it with both hands like it was salvation.

"Thank you!"

She gulped it down.

And then—

Her eyes widened.

Her whole body froze.

I knew immediately.

"...Dale," she croaked.

"Yes?"

"Why is this... hot."

"Because it’s tea."

Her face turned redder.

Her tears multiplied.

Then—

"KYAAAAAA!!"

The Saint’s scream filled my dorm room like a holy curse.

I leaned back in my chair, satisfied.

Somewhere in the distance, I was pretty sure the Seven Gods themselves were laughing.

And Iris—

Iris was going to make sure I paid for this.

Soon.