Chapter 203
Dead
"No seriously though…" Reuel protested, dragging his voice out as he threw his hands up in frustration. His whole face was a perfect picture of exasperation—his eyes were narrowed, lips pressed together, and shoulders hunched forward like he was bearing a grave injustice.
Henry barely looked up as he popped another spoonful of food into his mouth. He chewed calmly, shrugged, and said with a lazy grin, "It's not that big of a deal, Reuel." His tone was casual, like he genuinely didn't understand what all the fuss was about. "It's just what it is. Not like anything life-changing happened, right?"
Reuel's eyes bulged slightly. "Yeah but that's supposed to be me! I should be the one making connections, rubbing shoulders with random smiling academy staff members, getting invited to secret offices and other mysterious places!"
Henry let out a laugh, nearly choking on his food. "Can you hear yourself right now?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "Pfft, it's not like IAM's out here making best friends with the whole student council or dating Ari. In fact—" he pointed his spoon at Reuel for emphasis, "—out of all of us, you actually know the most people. You're always chatting with someone, always making friends or talking your way into places. So I don't know what you're talking about."
Reuel opened his mouth to reply, a deep breath already drawn for some witty comeback—but he paused. His mouth hung open for a second before slowly closing as his brows furrowed. A quiet moment passed, then a sudden flicker of realisation lit up his eyes like someone had just lit a spark behind them.
"That's it!" he blurted, slamming his palm down on the table.
Henry and Yohan both jumped slightly and turned toward him with raised eyebrows, mid-bite.
"You guys have been holding me back!" he declared, pointing an accusatory finger between them.
"What?" Henry blinked.
Yohan tilted his head, chewing slowly.
Reuel shot to his feet, his chair scraping harshly against the floor behind him. "I was supposed to be using this cafeteria to meet older students! Build connections! Network! But ever since we got here, I've been too caught up hanging out with you guys. You've derailed my plan."
He threw his arms up like a man who had just solved the mystery of his own downfall. The two boys still seated just stared at him, unimpressed and unmoved.
Yohan eventually raised an eyebrow and said, deadpan, "Is that your roundabout way of saying you can't imagine life without us?"
Henry smirked and nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Sounds like you're in love, man."
Reuel glared at them both. "Ha ha. Very funny."
He crossed his arms but couldn't quite hide the slight twitch of amusement threatening his lips.
"It's not going to be funny when I find a super reliable upper-year to replace you both," he said, jutting his chin up. "One who can beat your asses and carry me into glory."
Yohan gave him a dry look, lifted his hands in a mock surrender, and said, "We're shaking in our boots already."
"You're such a weirdo," Henry said flatly, watching Reuel with an expression caught between amusement and disbelief.
"I'm not weird," Reuel replied with a flourish of his hand. "I'm just beyond your little well. You're all frogs stuck looking up at the sky… me? I am the sky! Hahaha!"
He let out a loud, triumphant laugh that echoed through the cafeteria, drawing a few irritated glances. Then, with his usual chaotic energy, he spun on his heel and marched off toward a table of older students, already adjusting his posture and putting on a fake, friendly smile as he prepared to start "networking."
Yohan blinked slowly, then glanced at Henry.
Henry sighed. "He's gonna get smacked one of these days."
"Yeah," Yohan agreed casually. "But not today."
The two watched Reuel for another second, then turned back to their trays.
"Wanna try that new card game everyone's been talking about?" Yohan asked. "I heard it's getting kinda popular. It's called Una."
"Where do you even play it?"
"Online, apparently. Just need to download it."
Henry nodded, already pulling out his phone. "Cool. Let's go."
And just like that, Reuel was off chasing his glory, while the other two walked off to play cards—completely unfazed by his dramatic exit.
...
Johan's Best still stood strong. The sign was faded, and the walls had been painted over so many times they had forgotten their original colour, but the smell of good food still pulled in tired workers and worn-down souls.
Hours passed in a blur—chopping, boiling, frying, scrubbing, plating, and repeating. Ella worked beside her mother in the kitchen, the two of them moving quietly.
The atmosphere in the restaurant was heavy. No one said much. They worked like they were dragging invisible weights behind them, their expressions blank, tired, and filled with a sadness that clung to everything like grease.
At one point, while drying a bowl, Ella paused. She stared at it for a moment longer than necessary before taking a sharp breath and rubbing her eyes hard, blinking back the sting.
Her mother kept chopping vegetables with that same stern expression she always wore when things were bad. She didn't say anything—she never did on days like this. She just kept moving, like stopping would make everything crash down.
The gloom wasn't just in the kitchen either. Out in the seating area, every single customer sat in silence, barely touching their food. Some of them stared at their plates like they weren't even hungry, others chewed slowly like they couldn't taste anything at all.
And then, the silence broke.
The loud crack echoed through the room, but no one flinched. No one even turned to look. The table groaned beneath the blow, its leg slightly bending from the force, but again—no one moved to help. No one cared.
The man who had hit the table was crying, the tears streaming freely down his face, unashamed. His voice was raw and bitter broke as he shouted:
"Fuck! Those sick dicks don't give a bitch about any of us. They just send us out to die and that's it. Full stop. We're just tools! Trash that can be easily discarded! That's all we are to them… th… that's all we'll ever be…"
Ella recognized him.
His best friend had been conscripted… one of the many sent to The Hold. One of the many who never came back.
He wasn't the first to lose someone. He wouldn't be the last.
The news of what had happened in the Hold had just begun to spread across Hope's End, and the slum was immediately thrown into chaos.
Death wasn't anything new here. It was a regular part of life—something seen, heard, and felt every single day. People here had grown used to it... or at least, they had learned to pretend they had.
But this—this was different.
The sheer number of lives lost was too much to take in. One of the most respected military bases had been completely wiped off the map. Families and friends, people who had once believed they might finally catch a break, were all gone. Just like that. All of them.
Except one.
Ella had thought about IAM—the quiet boy. The one who had walked through the streets like he didn't belong, like he was always somewhere else in his head.
As much as she hoped... she knew the truth.
He was most likely dead.
The odds of surviving something like that were next to nothing. Close to zero. You didn't come back from places like the Hold... Not after what had happened.
Her grip tightened around the wooden spoon in her hand.
This world...
It couldn't go on like this.
The children. The elderly. Everyone in the slums. They were always the ones left to rot. To starve. To suffer in silence while the rest of Hope moved on with full bellies and cleaner streets.
Yes, they had lost some too.
But we—we have lost many more.
This filthy, broken world...
It needs to change.