"That's a poor explanation, Cerenios," Ze intervenes in a scholarly tone.

Cer raises his brows at him, tipping his chin in an amused fashion to prompt Ze to explain further.

"Do tell, then. What is a proper explanation?" I ask, refraining from rolling my eyes at him.

"There are only three animals in our world whose meat we can eat, but their meats are not equal," he says, raising a finger as he gets into his teaching mode. "After one has finished their training and passed their exams, they can consume the meat of the first animal, which is called a luago. After they have practiced for some time and have passed a few more levels, they are able to eat the meat of the second animal, which is called a praga. Only those who attain the highest level in their field are allowed to eat the meat of the third and most precious animal, the doradora."

"What do you mean by allowed?" I frown.

"Technically, after you've passed your first exams, your body can handle the intake of animal protein from all three," Cer fires at Ze.

Unbothered, Ze shakes his finger at him.

"Yes, one could theoretically consume meat from all three. But the doradora is a mythical beast that is very rare, and it's reserved only for those at the highest levels. It's actually codified in our law that no lower rank can hunt or eat its flesh. And after they made a law for the doradora, they made another one for the praga, since it's become endangered in the last few thousand years."

"I see." I nod. That sounds awfully tyrannical to me—limiting what people can eat based on their ranks. "Let me guess, you're one of those who can eat the doradora."

"Of course," Ze replies casually.

Thea stifles a laugh while Cer shakes his head at Ze.

"Oh, I see. So you cannot bring yourself to eat lowly human meat when you can eat your mythical beast."

"Of course," he replies again, this time in indignation. He narrows his eyes at me. Yet it doesn't escape me the way his gaze dips to my plate every now and then.

A mischievous smile clings to my lips as I cut another piece of steak, bringing it to my mouth. At first, his gaze is on the juice oozing from the steak, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. Slowly, he brings his eyes to my mouth, watching as I chew. And because I'm in an extra petty mood, I purposefully chew slowly, letting out sounds of enjoyment as I marvel at how tasty and delicious the steak is. I repeat the action, not surprised when he continues to stare at my food, his lips flattened into a thin line.

After I'm almost done with my first steak, he finally speaks.

"What meat is that?"

"Beef."

"What animal is it from?"

"A cow." I giggle. He's too clueless about this world.