❝ 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐏𝐀 . ❞ - 𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟 '𝑠 𝐷𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝑙𝑙

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

 Cinnamon laid in his bed, still unsure about how to answer Peppermint's question.

——

"Do you think we will escape out of here?" They said in a much quieter voice—more quieter than in most cases.

Cinnamon stayed quiet, not sure how to respond—Peppermint was just a child, no child should be thrown into something like this.

"...Yeah."

——

But would they really? Surely a few people have to drop dead before they would even have a glimpse of the outside again.

Besides the "authentic" garden that was right in the middle of the school.

Before Cinnamon could think about it any longer, the evening announcement rang.

"Mm, ahem, this is a school announcement. It is now 10 p.m. As such, it is officially nighttime. Soon the doors to the dining hall will be locked, and entry at that point is strictly prohibited. Okay then...sweet dreams, everyone! Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite..."

[ "Nighttime already? Was the class trial that long?!" ]

However, Cinnamon could only sigh as he dragged his hand across his eye and fell onto his bed.

The lights were off, and he didn't want to take anything off in the dark.

He shifted positions before sighing and pulling the cover and falling asleep.

—

"...

Good morning, everyone! It is now 7 a.m. and nighttime is officially over! Time to rise and shine! Get ready to greet another beee-yutiful day!"

[ "Are those things automatic?!" ]

The magician groaned before stirring from his sleep. Morning already—he had another dreamless night, just like before.

And before that.

And before that.

Whatever.

Cinnamon went out of his dorm but not before fixing himself—his hair was a mess.

When was the last time that he combed it?

He couldn't find anything to brush it so he had to make do with his fingers. It didn't look as good, but it was something.

—

Once Cinnamon finished polishing up he made his way to the dinning hall—there weren't many of them left and even fewer were at least decent at cooking.

"We made pancakes—they aren't the best, but they're something." Whipped Cream calls out quietly as he and Peppermint walk out with a few stacks of pancakes—a couple splashes of batter on them.

They mostly ate in silence, which almost freaked Cinnamon out—there would be at most whispering.

Nothing.

Was everyone starting to lose hope? Realizing that they would be trapped here forever? Being forced to kill or be killed—until someone was left standing?

Cinnamon poked at his food before slowly eating it—was he hungry? No—not in a time like this. Some—well one, was still shakened from the last class trial.

Once breakfast was done, Cinnamon stayed around to help Whipped Cream and Peppermint clean up.

"Cinnamon."