Chương 130: Chapter 122-Chosen Spring [Cleaning]

Hopper slams the table as he downs his 25th carrot. Garus and I watch in anticipation as he reaches for his 26th one. Will he break it? Will he finally surpass the record? My hands tremble… My heart quickens… Hopper picks up the carrot, brings it to his mouth, and… and… eats it whole. Getting it in was the easy part. Keeping it down, though, that will make history. Hopper's face contorts, and one of his red eyes begins to twitch. He grips the table as he fights to swallow it down.

With a sudden slam, Penelope enters out of left field, breaking Hopper's concentration.

"What are you guys doing?" Hopper suddenly swallows in surprise. He looks at Garus and then at me. Penelope looks at all of us like idiots.

"He did it! You did it!" Garus yells.

"I did it!" Hopper yells. Garus, Hopper, and I begin to jump in celebration.

"26 carrots in one sitting! Now that's talent!" I say as we cheer. Penelope lets a sigh escape her mouth.

"Not to ruin your parade, but should you really be moving so much?"

"What do you-" I begin to ask, but am interrupted by the sound of Hopper wretching in the courtyard. Garus gently pats Hopper's back.

"It's okay. You can try it next time."

"I was so close," Hopper says weakly.

"Didn't Luna say you should cut back on the carrots?" Penelope asks.

"I don't seem to remember," he says as I [Clean] up the carrot slurry.

"I seem to remember," Luna says from behind him.

"Hmm. Now that we're talking about it… I do seem to remember her saying something like that… Yeah, maybe I should've listened," Hopper says as he stares straight forward. Luna picks Hopper up and begins to walk away.

"I'll bring him back. We need to have another talk about his diet and how important it is." Hopper gives me a pleading look.

"Ah, Luna, wait. He's also been having carrots after midnight." Luna looks down at him.

"Perhaps we should pass by your room first." He gives me a look of betrayal. That's what he gets for eating my hidden carrot pudding. That and he really should cut down on his carrot consumption. It's honestly becoming a problem. Pay no mind to who challenged him to the carrot-eating contest. That has nothing to do with anything. Garus lets out a loud, uncharacteristic yawn.

"Not getting enough sleep, Cousin?" Penelope asks.

"Just studying a bit more than usual. Not to mention the preparations for the Ball," he answers as he wipes the sleep from his eyes.

"Are you also going to the Ball?" I ask as I also yawn.

"As the heir to the Archduchy, I am obligated to go. Even if I weren't, I would probably still end up going. It's a good opportunity to see my uncle and aunt," he says as he eats his pasta. Choking on my water, I catch my breath.

"The Emperor is going to be there?" Penelope carefully cuts her steak.

"My mother would kill him if he missed one more event. Especially a big one like the Ball. Unless a sudden Calamity makes landfall, he will be there. How long is entirely dependent on the mood of my mother."

"So, should I be worried about your father? Is he the talkative type, maybe he's a bit more stoic, or is he battle hungry like Heath?" I ask as I eat my soup. Penelope and Garus share a look.

"What was that look? That look in my experience doesn't mean good things. Am I going to fight your father?" I ask with a hint of fear. Garus scratches the back of his head.

"No… But he can be friendly, and he certainly has the personality of someone who united a continent."

"You have nothing to worry about, Charlatan. My father probably won't fight you upon the first meeting."

"Ah good."

"That's more of a second meeting kind of thing with him," she jokes, I hope.

"I can't tell if I'm more or less worried about meeting him now. Your father will also be there, right?" I ask Garus.

"A lot of people will be attending this Spring Ball. We have foreign dignitaries from the Merchant Republic of Diro, Ministers from the Riche Kingdom, and even some of the Dwarven Families from the Meliora Technocracy. Not to mention the Archdukes of our very own Empire," Garus quickly explains.

"Do you guys usually get this much of a turnout, or does your mother just throw that good of a party?" I ask.

"My mother does throw an elegant party, but the reason for this year's attendance is staring right at me," she says with a knowing look. The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"There's somebody staring at you?"

"No. You're the reason. By the Gods, Charlatan. I don't know how you manage to pass any of the exams we take," Penelope says with a huff.

"Well, according to the rankings… I'm doing better than you. So, believe it," I say with a shit-eating grin. Garus slowly slides away from me.

"I'm just going to… stand over here outside of her radius, hopefully."

"I see. Battle one Calamity and now you think you're the hottest thing around?" she asks with a hint of annoyance.

"I mean… aren't I. I don't see you fighting any Calamities, or did you do that when I wasn't looking, Ms. Rank 2?" I [Taunt]. Her eyebrow twitches as she struggles to maintain her composure.

"Perhaps I should show you exactly how wide the gap is between you and me." I lean closer.

"Are you challenging me to a Duel, Ms. Rank 2? Sure you can handle that hit to your reputation? I mean, when you lose, of course." Penelope gives a smirk.

"That's a lot of confidence coming from someone who can't lift my greatsword, but alas, I'll be the bigger woman. Not like you're going to keep that Rank for long. Just watch. By the time Summer Quarter rolls around, I'll have taken that spot from you."

"I'm excited to see that happen," I say as I get lost in the green of her eyes. Garus clears his throat.

"If the two of you are done, lunch is almost over."

"To class we go," I say as I get up. A dirty washpan. [Clean]. A burnt grill. [Clean]. Whatever the fuck this is. [Clean]. Why am I [Cleaning] like a madman? The answer is honestly quite simple. I'm an idiot. Cliff scrubs as hard as he can as the rest of the Cooking club sorts out the various pots and pans.

"Thanks again, Chosen One. We were really in a bind with the Festival coming up," Cliff says as he effortlessly destroys the grease on the pan.

"No worries. You've helped me out with [Cooking] tips. It's only right for me to help. Although I am surprised that you had so many club members end up sick on the same day," I say with a hint of doubt.

"Well, it's less that they're sick and more that they're actively avoiding club duties," he says as his large stature shrinks.

"Laziness or something else?"

"The club elections are coming up soon. They're right after the Festival, actually." With a sigh, I [Clean] another bowl.

"Let me guess. The people who didn't show up are supporting another candidate?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"As interim President, you're the one in charge of everything until the new President is elected. If you're hoping to get elected, you'll have to do well in this upcoming Spring Festival. Which subsequently means that your competition has to make sure you fail spectacularly," I quickly explain as I [Clean] the tabletop.

"I see… If I'm being honest, I don't know if I want to be the Club President. I'm only the interim President because the previous one appointed me as one before she graduated. I still don't understand why she did it… I mean, there are older club members," Cliff says as he stops scrubbing.

"You understand what it means to [Cook]. You don't have to be the best or even be good at it, although it probably helps. What's [Cooking] mean to you?" I ask as some of the club members nearby laugh.

"Fun. For me, it's the laughs and joy that I get from [Cooking] with my fellow club members. When we had that Bake Off, I had forgotten what it truly meant to [Cook], but then we had so much fun. It reminded me of the old days. Thanks for reminding me," he says with a smile.

"No problem. Maybe you can spare me a coupon for some sugar. I'm running a little low," I half-joke.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" I ask as I [Clean] some spatulas.

"What does [Cooking] mean to you?" My grip tightens ever so slightly.

"Love. [Cooking] for me is all about love and the warm feeling that comes with it. The smiles on the faces of those you love as they eat your [Cooking]. Now enough talking and more scrubbing. We have a whole kitchen to [Clean]," I say, quickly changing the subject. The door suddenly opens as a group of students enters. One of them 'accidentally' kicks over a pile of pans, making a whole other mess. Oh, these assholes better fucking [Clean] that up.

"Oh, my fault. Didn't see that there," he says with a shit-eating grin.

"Now, now. Settle down. We wouldn't want to make more work for our dear interim President. Although based on how much actual work has been done, I don't know if it would make a difference," a Fourth Year says as he looks at the state of the room. That must be the fucker who's running against Cliff. How did I know he was going to be the biggest douche I've ever seen? Was it instinct or just luck? Either way, I should give this asshole a piece of my mind. As I go to stand, Cliff puts his hand on my shoulder.

With a reassuring nod, he stands to meet the Fourth Year.

"Davis. I'm glad to see that you and the rest are over your stomach bug. Can I take this to mean that you've come to help with the [Cleaning]?" Cliff asks as he towers over Davis. Davis looks up at him with a seemingly unearned confidence. A Fourth Year versus a Third Year. I don't know how good this Davis is, but what I do know is that Cliff, even though he looks like he could tear someone apart with his bare hands, doesn't have a ton of combat [Skills]. This could end badly.

An annoying laugh echoes out of the excuse that Davis calls a face.

"Little Cliff, when are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours? Mass doesn't mean anything when you don't have the [Skill] to back it," Davis says as he spits in a pan. My hand twitches. That was close. I almost pelted him with a rock. I would step in, but that would be betraying Cliff's determination. If he thinks he can handle this, then who am I to think otherwise? Cliff looks down at the pan and then back at Davis.

"Why are you even in this club? You don't [Cook] and you barely show up. If it wasn't for the kindness of our previous President, you would've been kicked out years ago."

"Little Cliff, maybe it's about time you leave, because trust me, you just don't have what it takes to be the President of this Cooking club. You're weak, pathetic, and a sorry excuse of a man," Davis says as he taps on Cliff's chest.

"Once I'm club President, I'm kicking you out of this club. If you want to save some face, you should quit now," Cliff says with a cold stare. Davis squirms under his sight.

"I'd like to see that happen," he says. Cliff shakes his head and returns to the back of the room. Without a word, he scrubs the dirty pans. Davis flares with anger before leaving the room.

"I think you handled that well," I say as I [Clean] the spit pan.

"Thank the Gods it looked that way. I was scared out of my mind," Cliff says as his hands shake.

"Even more impressive then," I say with a smile. Skill <Clean> has Leveled Up