The next morning, a series of soft knocks echoed against the wooden door of Sagara's room.
Sagara stirred. His eyes blinked open slowly, the dim light seeping in through the window casting long shadows across the room. His body felt heavy, but not from physical exhaustion. It was the weight of confusion and emotional turmoil pressing down on him. His limbs resisted every movement, as though trying to keep him anchored to the bed, as if staying still could delay reality a little longer.
Everything had changed.
In a single night, the world he cherished had crumbled. What he once believed in was gone, wiped away like chalk on a board. The truth he had learned—no, witnessed with his own eyes—haunted him. It clung to his mind like a fog, dense and unmoving. And now, he was here… in this strange place, surrounded by strangers, with nothing familiar to hold onto.
Another knock echoed, pulling him further from his thoughts.
Dragging himself upright, Sagara sat at the edge of the bed for a few moments, gathering the strength to stand. Eventually, he pushed himself up, his bare feet meeting the cool floor. Each step toward the door echoed through the silent room, loud against the quiet. He hesitated at the doorknob, taking a breath, then opened the door.
Jati stood outside, his expression etched with concern.
"Do you feel better?" Jati asked gently, his voice tinged with worry.
Sagara didn't respond. His gaze dropped to the floor between them, avoiding eye contact. His shoulders slumped, his presence as small as a fading shadow.
Jati took that silence as an answer. "I suppose that means you're not," he murmured, his voice soft. "I wanted to help you get familiar with this place. Maybe meet some of the others… It might help."
He turned slightly, ready to walk away, but before he could take a full step, Sagara's voice called out, quiet and hoarse.
"It's okay. I'll go with you."
Jati turned back, eyebrows raised. "Are you sure?"
Sagara nodded wordlessly.
"Alright," Jati said, his voice lighter than before. "Follow me."
They walked together down a long hallway lined with doors. As they passed each one, Jati pointed them out. "These are resting rooms. People come here to sleep or be alone when they need to."
Sagara simply nodded, his attention only partially on Jati's words.
They approached the end of the hallway and stopped in front of another door. Jati opened it, revealing a larger room. "Next is the kitchen. Let's go."
As they made their way toward the kitchen, Sagara glanced through the windows lining the corridor. The view outside took his breath for a brief second—trees stood tall and quiet, their green leaves swaying in the breeze. Birds flitted between the branches, and above them, the sky stretched endlessly in a calm blue. The peacefulness outside felt like another world entirely from the storm that still churned inside him.
Not far from the kitchen, the smell of food drifted through the air, warm and inviting. It hit them both at once, pulling them forward with unexpected urgency. Neither of them had eaten since the previous day, and the scent of fried spices and cooked rice stirred their stomachs awake.
Jati pushed open the kitchen door. Inside, the kitchen was alive with movement—pots clanged softly, steam drifted from boiling pots, and utensils lined the counters neatly. Beyond the kitchen, a spacious dining room opened up, where several children sat quietly at a long wooden table. Some were younger than Sagara, their faces still marked with innocence and shyness. They waited silently, their eyes darting between the food and each other.
Not a single one of them had a halo above their heads.
"They haven't bloomed yet," Jati explained in a whisper, as though saying it too loudly would disturb the balance of the room.
"Indri, what are you cooking today?" Jati called out to the woman tending to the stove.
The woman turned her head, smiling. She had short black hair and looked just a few years older than Sagara, but the calmness in her expression gave her a comforting presence. Above her head floated a quiet, radiant halo with three distinct petals.
"Today? Nasi goreng," she said. "Ah, is this the new boy?"
"Yes, this is him," Jati replied.
Indri stepped forward, wiping her hands on a towel. "Hello there. I'm Indri. I'm the one in charge of the kitchen around here."
Sagara offered her a small bow of his head, then extended his hand to shake hers. "I'm Sagara. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too, Sagara," Indri replied warmly, her eyes soft. "You must be starving. Go ahead and sit down, I'll bring your food."
Sagara nodded and followed Jati to an empty seat. He sat down without a word, his gaze resting on the table.
Soon, Indri returned and placed a plate in front of him—nasi goreng with a fried egg on top and a mix of chopped vegetables. The aroma alone made his stomach clench.
Without hesitation, Sagara picked up a spoon and took a bite.
The moment the food hit his tongue, it was like something inside him cracked open. The warmth, the spice, the texture—it was unlike anything he had tasted before. He hadn't realized how deeply hungry he was. Spoon after spoon disappeared into his mouth, and in minutes, the plate was empty.
Jati blinked in surprise. "Wow… you really were hungry."
"Do you want more?" Indri asked, already holding another plate.
Sagara looked at her, nodded quickly, and accepted the second helping.
"If you're still not full, just tell me," she added, placing the new plate in front of him.
He dug in again. But this time, something felt off.
The hunger wasn't going away. In fact, it was growing.
By the time he finished the second plate, the gnawing sensation in his gut had intensified, like a beast waking up from slumber. He looked up at Indri, hesitating only for a second.
"Can I eat again? I'm still hungry."
Indri didn't ask questions. She simply handed him another plate.
And then another.
And another.
It became a cycle—eat, swallow, ask for more. The plates began to stack, a tower of porcelain growing in front of him. His speed increased with each serving. He was barely chewing now, just swallowing mouthfuls of rice like a machine. The warmth and satisfaction of the first few bites were gone, replaced by an endless void that only deepened with each spoonful.
A pit formed in Sagara's stomach. Not a physical one, but something darker, something familiar. This wasn't just hunger. This was that hunger—the one he had felt in the white space. The one that turned his body into something else. His hands trembled.
He looked around. The children stared at him wide-eyed. Fear crept into their expressions.
He tried to speak, his voice trembling, barely a whisper. "Help me… I feel so hungry."
Panic spread like fire. The children leapt from their seats and scattered in every direction, crying out in fear.
Jati reacted instantly, moving with a blur. He appeared behind Sagara and delivered a precise strike to the back of his neck.
Sagara went limp, collapsing forward like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
But it wasn't over.
From Sagara's right hand, a slit opened.
It was a mouth—grotesque and unnatural, filled with jagged teeth. It widened impossibly, stretching open like a void. The air around it distorted. Everything in front of it—plates, utensils, even some food—was pulled inward, sucked into the mouth like it was feeding on the room itself.
Chaos erupted. Silverware clattered to the floor, chairs toppled over, and food splattered on the walls.
Jati cursed and lunged forward, grabbing Sagara's arm and using his power to try to force the mouth closed.
"Hold him!" Indri shouted, moving to help.
Jati's muscles strained. The force of the mouth's pull was immense, but inch by inch, he managed to push the two halves of the slit closed. Sweat rolled down his forehead. Indri added her strength, stabilizing Sagara's body to prevent further chaos.
With one final push, the mouth snapped shut.
The room fell still.
Jati held his breath for a few seconds, then let out a shaky sigh of relief.
"He's dangerous," Indri said, her voice quiet but serious.
Jati looked down at the unconscious boy, his expression dark with worry. "No. He's not dangerous."
He paused.
"But something inside him is."