The black car stopped in front of the school gate.
Its engine kept running.
A low hum lingered in the air—subtle, steady, wrong. The kind of sound people noticed without knowing why.
Students nearby began to glance over.
"Uh… who are they?" Bimo whispered.
"I don't know," Arga said.
But his body already knew.
Something was wrong.
Two men stepped out of the car.
Gray jackets. Caps pulled low. Faces half-hidden in shadow.
The trunk opened.
Inside were several large boxes.
Each one was marked with the same blue letters:
MBG
Arga's chest tightened at said.
Wrong.
Real MBG meals never arrived like this.
"Isn't lunch already over?" Sinta murmured.
"Yeah…"
One of the men lifted a box.
Too smooth. Too careful.
As if he wanted to avoid attention—but wasn't afraid of being seen.
Arga took a step forward.
The energy inside him shifted.
Not warmth.
Heat.
Sharp.
A warning.
Then he smelled it.
Not rice.
Not vegetables.
Something bitter.
Something rotten.
"Arga…" Sinta said quietly. "You feel that too?"
He nodded.
"Don't get closer."
But it was already too late.
The box was set down near the canteen.
The lid opened—
just enough.
That was enough.
Students immediately started gathering around it.
"Hey! More food!"
"No way, seriously?"
"Wait—" one of the men said quickly.
Too quickly.
Arga's eyes locked onto the box.
Every instinct inside him screamed the same word.
Don't.
"Don't eat that," he said.
Bimo frowned. "Why?"
Before Arga could answer, Sinta grabbed his arm.
"Look."
The sticker.
MBG.
But wrong.
The rice logo was tilted.
The color was faded.
The print was uneven.
Fake.
Arga's voice dropped.
"That's not from our school."
Bimo swallowed.
"…So it's fake?"
Too late.
A younger student reached into the box and grabbed one of the meal packs.
Arga moved.
Fast.
"DON'T EAT THAT!"
The boy flinched—
but not enough.
He took a bite.
The crowd went silent.
"…It tastes bitter…"
The boy froze.
Then his body jerked.
"Hey…?"
His hand began to shake.
The food slipped from his fingers.
"Hey! HEY!"
His knees buckled.
THUD.
He hit the ground hard.
Gasps erupted around them.
Someone screamed.
The world snapped into focus.
Arga's vision sharpened.
Too sharp.
His heartbeat slammed against his ribs.
"What's happening?!" Bimo shouted.
Sinta dropped beside the boy at once.
"Hey! Stay with me!"
The boy's body trembled.
Not violently.
But wrong.
As if something inside him was fighting itself.
Arga stepped closer to the open box.
For a split second, he saw what was inside.
Not food.
Dark packages slick with oil.
Dry.
Lifeless.
His body reacted instantly.
The heat surged—
then twisted.
Rejecting it.
"Stop! Don't eat it!" one of the men shouted suddenly.
"Maybe it's spoiled!"
Lies.
No one moved.
Fear spread through the crowd like smoke.
Bimo's voice dropped to a whisper.
"…That's not food."
Sinta clenched her fists.
"They did this on purpose."
Arga's gaze shifted.
The men weren't watching the crowd.
They weren't watching the teachers.
They were watching them.
One of the men stepped forward.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Each step heavy with intent.
Arga didn't move.
The energy inside him surged again.
Stronger than ever.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
Fight.
Sinta stepped beside him.
"Arga…"
"Yeah."
"This is bad."
Bimo swallowed hard.
"…What do we do?"
Arga never looked away from the man.
"We stop them."
The man stopped a few steps away.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"So."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"You reacted."
Arga's chest tightened.
The man's gaze dropped to the lunch box in Arga's hand.
"Good."
He looked back up.
"That means it's working."
Sinta froze.
"…What?"
The man tilted his head.
"Contamination test."
Silence fell like a weight.
Bimo's voice cracked.
"You did this on purpose?!"
The man's smile widened.
"We needed to observe the difference."
He raised one finger.
Not toward the fallen student.
Toward Arga.
"Between them…"
His eyes sharpened.
"…and you."
Something snapped inside Arga.
He moved.
Faster than ever.
He crossed the distance in an instant and grabbed the man by the collar.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Sinta's eyes widened.
"Arga—!"
But he didn't hear her.
The heat inside him exploded.
The man didn't resist.
He simply smiled.
"Unstable."
Then he moved.
Too fast.
His wrist twisted.
Arga's grip broke instantly.
Pain shot through Arga's arm.
Sharp.
Real.
He staggered back.
For the first time since everything began—
he felt outmatched.
The man stepped closer.
"You're not ready."
Arga tried to move again.
His body hesitated.
Not fear.
Instinct.
Danger.
Sinta grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"STOP!"
The man glanced at her, then at the fallen boy.
"…Sufficient data."
He tapped his earpiece.
"Phase one complete."
The second man closed the box.
Quick. Efficient.
They turned and walked back to the car.
No panic.
No urgency.
As if this—
was routine.
The engine roared.
The black car pulled away.
Leaving behind silence.
And one boy still lying on the ground.
Sinta knelt beside him again.
"He's breathing… but weak…"
Bimo's face had gone pale.
"They just… poisoned him…"
Arga stood motionless.
His fists trembled.
Not from fear.
From rage.
Pure.
Burning.
He stared at the road where the car had disappeared.
When he spoke, his voice was low and cold.
"This isn't over."
And for the first time—
this wasn't about confusion.
Not about power.
Not about change.
This—
was war.