I sighed, loudly, heavier than I meant to, as I pushed the cafeteria doors open.
The air hit me first, warm and rich with the scent of freshly baked bread, grilled meats, and spices so thick they clung to the back of my throat.
My stomach twisted like a coiled snake, reminding me why I was here.
The cafeteria itself wasn't massive. Bigger than an average school's, sure, but not as grand as I imagined an academy of this caliber would have.
Then again, it made sense. Most students here didn't bother eating in the cafeteria.
Why would they? The wealthy preferred luxury, quiet, and above all, exclusivity.
Eating here meant sharing a space with those they considered beneath them, and even those so-called "beneath them" were leagues above me financially.
That realization stung. I forced out another sigh, trying to drown my self-awareness in exhaled air, and walked further in.
My eyes roamed across the half-empty room.
A few groups were scattered at the tables, chatting idly over their meals, their uniforms crisp, their laughter sharp.
They barely spared me a glance. That was good. The last thing I wanted was attention.
The scent only grew stronger as I approached the serving counters.
The aromas wrapped around me, playful, almost mocking.
And then—
Growl.
My stomach betrayed me, loud enough that I winced and instinctively glanced around, praying no one heard.
The scent was unbearable now, almost heavenly.
I felt like I'd stepped into some cruel paradise designed to torment the broke and starving.
I forced myself forward. But then I saw it. The price list.
"... Oh heavens," I muttered under my breath, my eyes narrowing like they had suddenly gained the clarity of a sniper scope.
Every number glared at me, bold and unforgiving.
Some weeks. That's how long my money would last if I ate too comfortably every time here. Some damn weeks.
The weight of that sank into me, pressing down until my head lowered.
Was this what it meant to be broke? To stand in front of food, smell it, crave it, and still feel chained down by numbers printed on a board?
A quiet war raged inside me, hunger against reason.
Reason was loud, logical, practical. Hunger was primal, roaring, demanding, clawing at my insides. And of course... Hunger won.
But, I ordered something cheap. Something small. Something that didn't deserve to be called a "meal."
I paid, trying not to flinch as the credits left my account, and carried the tray with numb hands to a table tucked away in the farthest corner. The food sat in front of me, pitiful.
A sandwich. I blinked, but It wasn't my eyes that was playing tricks on me, it was quite thin...
And that was the main thing I hated the moment I saw it. Who do they think they're? Making a sandwich small, for the sake of what?
But I had to admit, it was painfully quality, everything they give rich people in rich places are quality.
But what I always hated ever since was that most of them are always in small quantity. But the price are always in huge quantity.
To me, this sandwich was exactly the kind of thing you'd toss aside if you had options.
I stared at it for a long while, lips tightening.
This wasn't comfort food. This wasn't filling. This wasn't what I was used to.
Back then, when I was still rich I always have my maid cook in a normal quantity.
Even when I go out with my friends or for something else, I eat, and eat again when I get home.
But now, this was what I had. I had to adapt. I couldn't request for another meal, I wasn't ready to be stranded some weeks later.
I picked it up, bit into the bread, and chewed. Each bite dragged my thoughts back to them, my father, my stepbrother, my stepmother, my stepsister. All of them. People who had everything and left me with nothing.
The chewing grew mechanical.
Bite. Chew. Curse. Bite. Chew. Curse.
I swallowed the anger down with every mouthful.
After finishing my meal, I forced myself to order one more, though not to eat immediately.
The second sandwich would serve as my safety net for later.
Hunger was a constant enemy, and if there was one thing I hated more than being broke, it was being hungry.
When I finally made it back to my dorm, I dropped the wrapped sandwich onto my desk like it was some sort of priceless treasure.
I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the lukewarm water wash away the exhaustion clinging to me.
It wasn't the comforting warmth of home, I didn't even have a home anymore, but it was enough to make me feel human again, very much.
By the time I finished the necessary routines and collapsed onto my bed, a strange sense of satisfaction washed over me.
My stomach wasn't full, but it wasn't screaming either.
That counted as a victory in my book.
Just as my eyes fluttered shut, ready to surrender to the peaceful void of sleep—
Ding!
The sharp sound pierced through the silence of my room.
My eyes snapped open, heart thudding in my chest.
And there it was again… The system.