"Why does this voice sound so familiar?" Lilith murmured to herself, trying to recall where she had heard it before. Her mind raced through the limited number of people she knew, and suddenly, it clicked.
"It's the dean!" she exclaimed, recognition dawning on her face.
A deep, echoing voice responded almost immediately, "Yes! It's me!"
Lyra, who had already been startled by Ms. Amisha three times that day, stood frozen in place, his mind reeling. Could the dean's voice really be everywhere, even when he remained unseen? The thought sent shivers down his spine. The moment they realized it was Ms. Amisha and not some phantom authority, the group relaxed just a little.
"Dean, what did you mean when you said something was 'not possible' earlier?" Lyra asked, curiosity overcoming his nervousness.
The voice, still disembodied and commanding, answered, "You cannot share the recipe for bread and juice with the younger witches; those in grades one, two, and three."
Though the dean had yet to appear in person, his voice seemed to fill the room as if watching from the shadows. Lyra furrowed his brow in confusion.
"But... why not?" he asked.
The dean's voice, calm yet filled with the weight of experience, explained, "For centuries, witches and top sorceresses have traveled far beyond our world, discovering new species, including various fruits that can fill you up like breadfruit, replenish your magical energy, and even enhance your mana. Some of these fruits are superior to breadfruit, thriving in special environments and under strict conditions. Yet, despite all of this, I chose to plant breadfruit next to the dormitory. Do you know why?"
The four young witches stared at each other, bewildered. Was there something even more precious than breadfruit? Surely, it must be valuable beyond their understanding. They shook their heads in unison, clearly lost.
"It's because breadfruit tastes bad," the dean revealed, his voice tinged with amusement.
Lyra's jaw dropped, and the others blinked in surprise. They hadn't expected that explanation. An advantage in being unappetizing? How could something as universally disliked as breadfruit have such a pivotal role in their daily lives?
"You see, the terrible taste prevents dependency," the dean continued. "Breadfruit is a temporary solution; a stepping stone for you before you master the art of cooking magic and brewing recovery potions. If breadfruit were both delicious and beneficial, would you still work as hard at honing those crucial skills? No. But mastering these is essential for your survival in the future. While we don't expect you to become experts, every witch must at least learn the basics."
Lyra and his friends fell silent. They couldn't argue with the logic. It made sense now. The Academy's philosophy had always been about fostering resilience and self-reliance, much like the tradition of witches themselves. Learning to overcome adversity was woven into the fabric of their education. Breadfruit, with its sour taste and dull texture, was part of that lesson, a daily reminder that they couldn't coast through life without effort.
"That breadfruit cake from yesterday, on the other hand, was acceptable. It took some cooking skill to make it palatable, which is why it's allowed. But today's breadfruit juice… it's different. Letting it replace the need for a recovery potion this early in your training is problematic. You won't always have breadfruit at your disposal after you leave the academy. You can make it for yourselves, yes, but you are not allowed to teach the younger witches. They need to learn cooking magic and potion crafting just as you have. This is not something you can afford to slack off on, just because breadfruit is convenient."
The dean's words hung in the air, firm but patient.
"When you reach the fourth grade and start shaping your own learning path, then it will be your choice whether to share your discoveries or not. By then, the library's full resources will be open to you. If you're still curious, you can read the compilation of 'How to Eat Breadfruit,' a collection of ideas from little witches before you. There are even different flavored breadfruit juices written down for those adventurous enough to try them."
The dean's voice faded into silence, leaving Lyra and the others deep in thought. They stood there for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in. It all made sense now, why Senior Lilith had once whispered that no witch in the academy could truly be in danger. If they were, Ms. Amisha would always appear, seemingly out of nowhere, to save them.
Lyra couldn't shake the feeling that the dean was watching, even now. Were there more deans hidden around the academy? It wasn't just the blue-robed, purple-robed, and black-robed instructors they saw each day, was it? The dean, it seemed, had eyes everywhere, ensuring every witch was on the path to becoming self-reliant and skilled, even if that path was lined with unpalatable breadfruit.
Each little witch at the academy had a headmaster assigned specifically to watch over her. It was the only explanation for how the dean seemed to always show up at just the right moment. Even the humble Breadfruit Cake knew about it.
"It turns out that it's not that no one knows how to cook breadfruit; it's that the recipe has been kept secret by the dean of the lower grades!" Lilith exclaimed, her eyes wide with the revelation.
She had only discovered this today, and suddenly everything made sense. No wonder she always saw senior witches in the fourth grade wandering through the breadfruit forest, but never actually saw them eating the fruit raw. Unlike Lilith and her friends, who would simply grab a fruit when they were too hungry or too lazy to cook, the seniors clearly had other ways of making the breadfruit more palatable. They just kept it to themselves.
"The seniors have been keeping this secret all along!" Lilith continued, shaking her head in disbelief.
"No wonder! Juicing isn't that clever of an idea; it's hard to believe no one else had thought of it before!" Lyra added. She had always felt there was something strange about the whole situation.
Valen was a world where people could travel between realms, encountering the cultures, food, and specialties of other worlds. How could such a place be a food desert? Sure, Valen lacked soy sauce and other luxuries, but the idea that no one had found a better way to enjoy breadfruit seemed ridiculous. Lyra had assumed it was just because most of the witches, when they first arrived, weren't skilled at cooking. Once they learned cooking magic, they moved on to more exciting and delicious foods, and the idea of perfecting a breadfruit recipe just got lost over time. But now she realized that the seniors had been quietly perfecting it all along, sharing their knowledge only among the older students.
"I guess we'll have to keep drinking this juice in secret," Sylph said, her tone a mix of amusement and frustration.
Lilith sighed, "Well, at least I didn't make a huge amount. I can't keep it for too long in the dormitory. Next time, I'll just make smaller batches."
Eyeing the large pot of juice she had already prepared, Lilith added with a grin, "I'll just drink as much as I can now so it doesn't go to waste."
Lyra laughed, though a bit uneasily. "Guess I'd better drink more tonight, too," she said. She had planned on bringing a big pot of juice to school tomorrow, but now she knew that would draw too much attention. The recipe had to remain a secret. Carrying a large bottle would be too obvious, so she resolved to just fill a small water bag.
"At least the juice isn't too filling," she thought to herself. "I'll just have to make more trips to the bathroom."
Later that evening, after their senior witch Vasida and Sylph had left, Lyra got to work on the juice, drinking it in big gulps. In between sips, she took breaks to weed the garden, turn the soil, and wander around the yard, trying to drink as much as she could before morning. Fortunately, by the time she was done, there was only a pot and a half left.
"Not bad," she thought, satisfied with her progress. "I'll finish the rest tomorrow morning."
The next day, Lyra set off with her water bag filled with juice and a bag of breadfruit cakes. As she made her way down to the dormitory intersection, she noticed Vasida, Sylph, and the others had already gathered; but there was still no sign of Senior Lilith. In fact, none of the other second-year seniors were around, either.
"That's strange. Where are all the seniors?" Vasida wondered aloud, looking around.
A fellow witch, Amy, who had been standing nearby, overheard and chimed in, "Didn't you hear? The second-years have their first class in the herb garden today. They're getting ready to make their flying brooms!"
Lyra's eyes lit up. "They're making their own flying brooms already?" she gasped, her voice filled with excitement.
Vasida sighed wistfully. "I can't wait until we get to do that."
"Who can?" Cheryl added with a long sigh, thinking of the day when they, too, would soar through the skies on their very own brooms.
"One more year," Lyra thought to herself, grinning. The challenges ahead were many, but the promise of adventure kept them moving forward, step by step.