The clock on the soot-stained wall of the Tenjiku Federation's "Ancestor of All Planet Calls" cafeteria struck nine. The air was thick with the scent of cheap grease, burnt coffee, and the suffocating humidity of a packed college crowd. In the center of the chaos sat a group that looked like a curated exhibit of peak collegiate arrogance. Couples were draped over one another, hands slung carelessly over shoulders, whispering secrets that were meant to be overheard.
And then there was Arav.
He sat at the edge of the circular table, leaning back in a rusted plastic chair that creaked under his weight. He was the silent anchor in their storm of vanity. No girl was draped over him; no "best friend" was whispering in his ear. He just sat there, eyes half-lidded, radiating a calm that seemed almost offensive to the frantic energy around him.
"Bro, it's the last day of college," one of the guys suddenly announced, slamming his palm onto the table. "We can't just sit here like mourners. Let's party. We're already in the cafeteria—let's pool the cash and feast."
The suggestion acted like a spark in a tinderbox. Wallets were whipped out with performative flair.
"I'm in for five thousand," one said, slapping the notes down. "Ten thousand from me," another bragged, looking around to ensure the girls were watching. Small crumpled bills followed—thousands, five-hundreds, even a few measly three-hundreds from the hangers-on. The pile grew to fifteen thousand.
Then all eyes turned to Arav.
Arav felt the weight of their gaze—not of friendship, but of calculation. He checked his pockets, knowing the void he'd find there. "I'll contribute later," he said, his voice level, devoid of the shame they expected. "I'm a bit short right now."
Silence stretched for a heartbeat too long. No one spoke, but the smirk on a few faces said more than a lecture ever could. They turned away, dismissing him like a ghost.
The orders were shouted out with the hunger of the nouveau riche. Luxury platters, extra-large pizzas dripping with artisanal cheese, wagyu-style burgers—everything the overpriced menu had to offer was summoned to the table.
Thousands of miles away, in the heart of the Rising Sun Empire, the atmosphere was the polar opposite of the Tenjiku chaos.
Inside a glass-walled office overlooking the neon arteries of the city, Aisha Khurana stood by the window. At twenty-two, she didn't just lead a company; she commanded it. Her reflection in the glass was sharp—eyes like flint, a suit that cost more than the cafeteria's entire inventory.
"Where is my meal?" she asked, not turning around. Her voice was a low, dangerous velvet.
The manager, a man ten years her senior, felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine. "Ma'am, the five-star hotel is preparing it now. There is a slight delay in transit. It will be here shortly."
Aisha turned, her movement slow and predatory. She tapped a diamond-encrusted watch. "You know the value of my time. Every minute I spend waiting for a calorie is a minute I lose in a market expansion. I want my food exactly on time."
"Yes, Ma'am, I know," the manager stammered. "But we have to take a bit of time for the quality check."
"How much?"
"Around fifty minutes."
Aisha's eyes narrowed. "Fifty minutes is too much. This is inefficient." She paused, the silence in the room becoming heavy enough to crush. "Fine. I will wait. But do not let it happen again."
The manager bowed deeply, his breath hitching. "Thank you, Ma'am."
"Now," Aisha said, walking toward her desk and snapping open a leather-bound tablet. "What is the plan for today? Give me the breakdown."
"First, breakfast, Ma'am. Then we are going to sign the primary expansion contract, followed by the board meetings and the afternoon public address. After that, your schedule is clear."
Aisha scanned the digital ink. "The schedule is too hectic. Cut the public meeting by half. I need air to breathe between these sharks."
Back in the Tenjiku Federation, the cafeteria table was now a graveyard of cardboard boxes and grease stains. The food had arrived thirty minutes ago.
Arav reached out, his hand hovering over a stray burger. He hadn't eaten since yesterday, and the scent was gnawing at his stomach.
"Hey," a hand slapped down near his fingers. It was the guy who had put in the ten thousand. He grinned, but his eyes were cold. "You didn't contribute, remember? You can eat later. Or maybe just watch us? It's free to watch."
The table erupted in jagged, cruel laughter.
"Classic Arav," another sneered, wiping sauce from his chin. "This guy never contributes. I don't know why he even bothers showing up."
One of the quieter guys tried to intervene. "Leave him alone, man. He said he'd pay later. Why are you acting like his equal anyway? You paid, so just eat and shut up."
The bully ignored him, leaning in toward Arav. "So, Arav, what's the big plan after college? Or are you just going to sit in this chair until the janitor sweeps you out? We've all got placements. I'm heading to a firm in the capital. And you? You're just... sitting."
Arav didn't let the smile reach his eyes. He didn't have the energy to explain the weight of his world to people who lived in bubbles. "My plan?" he said softly. "I think I'll travel. Go out of the country for a while."
The laughter this time was louder, uglier.
"Out of the country? Bro, you don't have five hundred rupees for a burger and you're talking about the Eagle Republic or the Wolf Dominion? Where are you getting the money? Your imagination?"
"Stay in your lane, Arav. You haven't even seen the whole of Tenjiku yet. Travel is for people with bank accounts, not people with excuses. Stay within your 'aukad'—your status. It'll hurt less."
Arav remained silent, a statue amidst the mocking.
"Yo, brother! What's the vibe?"
A shadow fell over the table. Sonic Verma slid into the space next to Arav, his energy instantly shifting the molecular weight of the air. He scanned the group, his eyes landing on the mountain of food. "You didn't tell me you were feasting with this crowd, Arav. I would've come sooner."
"Oh, Sonic! Sit, sit," the others chirped, their tone flipping instantly to sycophancy. They knew who Sonic's father was. They knew the Verma name carried weight. "Want some food?"
"I definitely want some," Sonic said. He didn't wait for an invite. He reached across the table and snatched a burger right out of the hand of the guy who had just insulted Arav. "I love these. This one's mine."
The guy stared at his empty hand, stunned, but he didn't utter a word of protest.
Sonic took a massive, theatrical bite, then looked at Arav. "Why aren't you eating, man? You look like you're on a hunger strike."
"I'm not really hungry," Arav muttered, staring at the table.
Sonic stopped chewing. His gaze darted from Arav's empty spot to the smirking faces around the table. The humor in his eyes died, replaced by a sharp, intuitive coldness. "Did these guys say something to you?"
"No, we didn't say anything!" the bully piped up, his voice an octave higher.
Sonic slowly put the burger down. He didn't finish it. He stood up, adjusted his jacket, and walked straight to the cafeteria counter.
"Everything they ordered," Sonic said to the server, pointing at the group. "Order it all again. Double it. And I want it ready in fifteen minutes. Fresh. Hot."
The server blinked. "That... that will be another fifteen thousand, sir."
"Fifteen thousand?" Sonic pulled out a card and tapped it on the reader without looking at the price. "Fine. Get moving."
He walked back to the table, ignoring the stunned silence.
"Sonic, what are you doing?" Arav asked, standing up. "We don't need this."
"It's just time, Arav. The burger was going to get cold anyway," Sonic said, his voice loud enough for the whole group to hear.
Fifteen minutes later, a fresh spread of steaming, high-end food was laid out specifically in front of Arav.
"Eat," Sonic commanded gently.
"Sonic, there was no need for this," Arav whispered.
"No need?" Sonic threw an arm around Arav's shoulder, his voice booming. "Everyone's eating, so you're eating. What's mine is yours, brother. It's just fifteen thousand—we'll earn it back later. Besides, friendship isn't about standing in the background of a photo. It's about showing up when the vultures start circling."
He turned his gaze to the rest of the group, his lip curling in a sneer. "Actually, you know what? I've lost my appetite sitting here. This place smells like fake people. Let's go to a real hotel, Arav. My treat."
"But the food is right here—" Arav started.
"Leave it," Sonic snapped, pulling Arav up. "I've saved money all through college; I can afford to blow some on a day like today. I don't like the atmosphere here. It feels... cheap."
He led Arav away, leaving fifteen thousand rupees worth of untouched, steaming food on the table. The group sat in stunned silence, their "victory" over Arav turning into ashes in their mouths.
As they reached the parking lot, Sonic kicked his bike into gear. "Sit. We're going to find a place that respects the guest more than the gold."
He looked back at the cafeteria doors one last time. "Let them have it. Some people are hungrier for money than they are for food. Let them eat the cash. We'll eat somewhere else."
One of the girls from the group ran out, her face conflicted. "Sonic, wait! You're just leaving?"
Before she could reach them, her boyfriend grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "Let him go," he hissed. "Sonic's father has too much money; he's a businessman. He doesn't know the value of a rupee. Let's see how long he keeps hanging around his poor friend. He left the food today, but tomorrow he'll realize the mistake he's making."
Sonic didn't even look back as he revved the engine. He shoved a helmet toward Arav and smirked.