Honey Dust

Sora was still holding a warm jar of honey when the academy told him his support gift had no value. He had crossed into another world only days ago, and he was already being treated like spare help. His bees made honey that changed with his own heart, which meant every lie in him showed up in the jar. That was hard enough. Then he was pushed into jobs that looked small, but each one forced him to use the one kind of care no one else could copy. He wanted to be useful. He also wanted someone to stop looking through him like he was a tool left on a shelf. The girl who smiled at him first is the one hiding the sharpest name in the room.