Enchanted University of Magemenos

Chapter 89:Banquet hall for royalty

Before stepping into the arena, we were told to change into the designated attires—some kind of loose, full-body suits. The kind that clung awkwardly around the wrists and ankles, covering every inch from neck to foot. It reminded me of what construction workers or hazmat teams might wear. Functional. Uncomfortable. Zero personality.

The fabric was stiff, like it had seen too much and refused to soften.

There were no colors to choose from, no names or numbers stitched in—just plain, identical suits for everyone, as if individuality was the first thing this game intended to strip away.

And the second?

Sanity.

There was a card tucked neatly into my suit pocket—a Reverse card. The moment I saw it, my pulse kicked up a notch. I slipped it back in, quickly and quietly, careful not to draw any attention. The power cards are everything here. The mafia's ultimate goal is to collect them all, and I already had one.

Which means... I can't be mafia, right?

Or worse—what if I am one of them? Would that make me a liability? One power card already out of play because it's stuck with me? My mind spirals. Maybe this is how they test loyalty. Or maybe it's just another mind game, another layer to confuse us.

Either way, the rules are clear: protect your card, trust no one.

My thoughts were rambling, spinning out in every direction, refusing to settle. Anxiety clawed at the edges of my mind, making it impossible to focus.

We stepped into the room as instructed—
But it was dark.
Pitch black.

No lights.
No sound.
Just the weight of silence pressing in from every angle.

The air felt heavy, like it was watching us. I could barely make out the silhouettes of others, all standing still, unsure, waiting. My heart pounded against my chest so loud I swore it echoed.

"Did the game already start? It's night? But... we don't even know the roles yet?" I whisper, mostly to myself, my voice swallowed by the darkness.

And then—
BAM.

The lights flicker on without warning.

A burst of white floods the room, blinding for a second. My eyes sting as they adjust, and gasps echo from every direction.

"Wow..." someone breathes.

It was gorgeous—not in a comforting way, but in a haunting, too-perfect way.

Golden chandeliers dangled from the impossibly high ceiling, casting a soft glow that bounced off the polished marble floor. The room looked like a banquet hall for royalty—if the royalty also liked psychological warfare.

Dozens of round tables were arranged in precise symmetry, each one connected to a tall, sleek pillar in the center. These pillars weren't just for show—they held automated card distributors, sleek machines built directly into the metal. Cold. Efficient. Designed to remove the human element from even this.

As I walked past one, it whirred softly, like it was breathing. Waiting. Ready to shuffle and deal fate, one card at a time.

There was something unnerving about the elegance of it all. It felt like being dressed for a funeral but told you were attending a gala.

And somehow, both might be true.

Each table had six placeholders, ready for six players to sit down, though the space felt endless—like it could swallow you whole if you weren't careful. The room was so vast, it was hard to comprehend its full scope. It had so many hallways and side rooms branching off like a labyrinth. I couldn't help but feel the weight of the place—like it was designed to confuse, to isolate, to make you lose track of everything around you.

The scale of it was beyond anything I'd ever imagined. Every step echoed, and the air felt heavy, like it knew something I didn't.

For a second, I wondered how the mafia would fare in a place this big. It seemed impossible that they could control it all. Too many hiding spots, too many corners. But then again, maybe that was exactly the point—they wouldn't need to control it. They just needed to be patient.

And that's what made it all the more terrifying.

The buffet laid out before us was a feast—platters of food that seemed like they'd been prepared just for the occasion. There were stacks of fresh bread, mounds of roasted meats, salads bursting with color, and desserts that made my stomach rumble just by looking at them. Each dish was a tempting invitation to indulge, and honestly, after everything that had happened, I was desperate for something to distract my mind.

A small card beside the spread read: "This is the first day, so the day's first meal will be provided. After this, meals will not be given for free. Hope you have a great stay."

The words hung in the air for a moment, the last part sounding more like a threat than a greeting.

Despite the warning, no one cared. We dove in, piling plates high with food, forgetting for a brief moment about the danger lurking in the shadows. It was almost as if, for that small slice of time, we could pretend we were just normal people, gathering around a table to eat, to laugh, to forget what was coming.