Everyone just wanted lunch.
No one knew that before the day ended—
three students would collapse,
one classroom would be destroyed,
and Arga's life would never be normal again.
The bell rang.
Sharp. Sudden. Violent.
The classroom exploded into motion.
Chairs scraped. Bags snapped open. Footsteps pounded toward the hallway as hungry students rushed out like a flood.
"Hurry! The portions get smaller if you're late!" someone yelled.
Laughter followed.
Then—just like that—
they were gone.
Silence fell.
Heavy. Slow. Wrong.
Only one student remained.
Arga.
He didn't stay because he wanted to.
He stayed because something in his chest kept whispering:
Don't move.
His fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.
Old wood. Scratched surface. Carved names from students who had already moved on. Proof that everything leaves eventually.
He exhaled.
Then reached into his bag.
Inside was a metal lunch box.
Simple. Silver. Slightly dented.
Stamped across the lid in blue letters:
MBG – Free Nutritious Meal Program
Arga stared at it for a moment longer than necessary.
He hated those words.
Free.
It meant people looked at you differently.
It meant whispers.
It meant needing help.
But hunger always won.
He opened the lid.
Warm steam rose instantly.
Rice.
Golden fried chicken.
Corn and carrots.
Red grapes polished to a shine.
Perfect.
Too perfect.
Arga frowned.
Then he saw it.
At the bottom of the box—
one grain of rice was glowing.
He froze.
The grain pulsed once.
A soft golden light.
Then stopped.
His stomach growled violently.
He hadn't eaten breakfast.
He almost never did.
His mother left before sunrise every morning, chasing work before the city fully woke up. By the time Arga opened his eyes, the house was always the same:
A cup of tea.
An empty chair.
Silence.
"Hey. You planning to marry that lunch box?"
Arga looked up.
Bimo dropped into the chair across from him, breathing hard, hair damp with sweat. His own lunch box was already half empty.
"You eat too fast," Arga said.
"You think too slow," Bimo shot back. "Eat now or Sinta steals your chicken."
"Try me."
Sinta stood at the doorway, arms crossed. Sharp eyes. Calm face. Dangerous smile.
Bimo immediately covered his food.
"No one invited you."
"I don't need invitations."
She walked in and sat behind them.
Arga almost smiled.
This.
These moments.
They felt normal.
And Arga had learned normal things never lasted.
He picked up his spoon.
The first bite entered his mouth.
Warm.
Soft.
Then something else.
A strange richness spread across his tongue—too good, too deep, too satisfying. Like his body had been starving for something more than food.
He paused.
"What?" Bimo asked.
"It tastes…" Arga frowned.
"…wrong."
Bimo laughed. "That's called flavor."
Arga ignored him and took another bite.
When the spoon scraped the bottom—
he saw it again.
A symbol.
Tiny. Hidden beneath the rice.
A grain enclosed by a thin circle.
Faintly glowing.
"Bimo."
"Hm?"
"Does your lunch box have a mark inside?"
Bimo checked.
"Nope."
Arga looked back down.
Still there.
Still glowing.
Still watching.
"Arga?"
"…nothing."
He finished the meal.
And the moment he swallowed the last bite—
something inside him woke up.
Heat exploded through his stomach.
Not normal heat.
Something sharper. Stronger.
It shot through his chest.
His arms.
His spine.
Every nerve in his body lit up.
Arga grabbed the desk.
His heartbeat slammed against his ribs.
Too fast.
Too hard.
"What's wrong?" Sinta stood instantly.
"I…"
He rose to his feet.
The room felt lighter.
Wrong.
Like gravity had loosened around him.
Like his body had forgotten its own weight.
The bell rang again.
Students poured back into the room, laughing, talking, unaware.
But Arga couldn't hear them properly anymore.
Everything sounded distant.
Muffled.
Slow.
He looked down at the empty lunch box.
The symbol at the bottom shone brighter.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Then—
SNAP.
The world shattered.
Voices stretched into distorted echoes.
Students froze mid-step.
A falling pencil hung in the air.
Dust stopped moving.
Time itself had cracked open.
"Ar…ga…?"
Bimo's voice crawled through the broken silence like it came from underwater.
Arga's eyes widened.
He could move.
Only him.
He took one step.
Then another.
The entire classroom stood trapped in a motionless world around him.
His breath turned sharp.
His chest tightened.
Fear hit too late.
Then everything slammed back.
SOUND returned like an explosion.
The pencil hit the floor.
Students stumbled.
Voices crashed over each other.
Arga nearly collapsed against his desk.
"What the hell was that?!" Bimo shouted.
But Arga wasn't listening.
He stared into the lunch box.
The symbol glowed brighter than ever.
Alive.
Hungry.
Waiting.
A scream echoed from somewhere down the hallway.
Then another.
The classroom went silent.
Arga's blood ran cold.
Because deep inside—
he already knew.
This wasn't food.
And whatever he had just awakened…
wasn't only inside him.