Chapter 10: Breakfast and Blond Naivety

Chapter 10: Breakfast and Blond Naivety

The bell rang, sharp and shrill, echoing through the metallic halls. It was breakfast time. I sighed, rubbing my temple. This place had a knack for reminding you that freedom was a distant dream, one meal at a time.

Beside me, the blonde boy was practically vibrating with excitement. "It's finally food time!" he exclaimed, his voice a little too loud for comfort.

"Are you always this energetic?" I asked flatly.

"Of course!" he chirped, giving me a toothy grin. "I mean, who doesn't like food?"

I stared at him for a moment, letting his words sink in. "You do realize we're in a lab, not a restaurant, right?"

"Yeah, but food is food," he said, unfazed. "Besides, I'm starving. Aren't you?"

I didn't bother responding and instead followed the flow of test subjects heading toward the canteen. The atmosphere was oddly relaxed, which, given the circumstances, felt almost eerie.

---

The canteen was as depressing as I expected—rows of dull, metal tables, flickering fluorescent lights, and a general air of resignation. We joined the queue, trays in hand, and waited our turn.

The blonde boy craned his neck to look ahead, nearly bouncing on his heels. "I wonder what we're getting. Maybe soup? Or bread? Or—"

"Don't get your hopes up," I interrupted. "This isn't exactly a five-star establishment."

When we finally reached the front, my suspicions were confirmed. A staff member plopped a gray, gelatinous mass onto my tray. It wobbled like it had a mind of its own.

The blonde boy blinked at his tray. "What's this?"

"Breakfast," I said dryly.

He poked the blob with his spoon. "It's… moving."

"It's not moving. It's just poorly cooked."

He tilted his head, scrutinizing it like a curious child. "Are you sure? It looks alive."

"Eat it or don't," I said, walking away to find a seat.

---

We settled on the left side of the canteen, as Isa had instructed. The right side was louder, filled with older test subjects who seemed far too comfortable in this place. They laughed and joked, their behavior bordering on arrogance.

The blonde boy frowned, tilting his head toward the rowdy group. "Why are they so… lively?"

"They've gained favor with the scientists," I explained, keeping my voice low. "Probably think they're above the rest of us."

His frown deepened. "But why are they acting like this place isn't… you know, awful?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You tell me."

He hesitated, then leaned closer, speaking in a hushed tone. "Well… it's because this place isn't as awful as where most of us came from."

I gave him a questioning look, urging him to continue.

"Think about it," he said, poking at his gelatinous blob. "Back in the slums, you never knew if you'd even wake up the next day. You'd starve for days, or worse, get attacked by monsters at night. Here… at least we get food and a place to sleep. Sure, the experiments hurt, but it's better than starving or living in fear every second."

I blinked, processing his words. "So… they're just happy to be alive?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding earnestly. "Most of them probably think that if they survive until sixteen, they can get a job here as workers. It's a lot better than scrounging in the slums."

I stared at him for a moment, something about his words tugging at the edge of my mind. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

He scratched his head sheepishly. "I guess. I mean, it's kind of obvious, isn't it?"

I didn't respond immediately, my gaze drifting back to the rowdy group on the right. They were laughing and clinking their cups together, as if they didn't have a care in the world.

The blonde boy suddenly frowned. "Wait… why am I even explaining this to you? You're from the slums too. You should know all this."

I stiffened, my spoon halting mid-air.

He stared at me, his brows knitting together in confusion. "Why are you acting like you don't understand? You're one of us, right?"

I kept my face blank, my tone even. "You're imagining things."

He opened his mouth to argue, then hesitated, shaking his head. "Maybe I am," he muttered, turning back to his food.

I released a quiet breath, grateful that his naivety had saved me from further interrogation.

---

The right side of the canteen erupted into laughter, drawing our attention. One of the older test subjects—a tall, red-haired boy—stood on his chair, holding his tray above his head.

"To another day of glorious survival!" he shouted, grinning.

His group roared with laughter, clinking their cups together like they were at a party.

"What are they doing?" the blonde boy asked, his voice hushed.

"Being obnoxious," I said.

"They seem happy."

"They're fools."

He tilted his head. "But at least they're enjoying themselves, right?"

"Do you enjoy getting on the scientists' bad side?" I asked pointedly.

He blinked. "No… but they're not, are they?"

"They're favored, not invincible," I said.

"Oh." He stared at the group for a moment, then leaned closer to me. "What do you think it's like to be favored?"

"Probably worse than this," I said, gesturing to the blob on my tray.

His face twisted in horror. "Worse than this? That's… that's awful!"

"Exactly."

---

As the bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast, I stood up and glanced at the blonde boy. He was still staring at his tray, poking the blob with a forlorn expression.

"Come on," I said.

He looked up at me, his eyes wide. "Do we have to leave? I'm not done fighting it yet."

"Yes."

With a dramatic sigh, he stood up and followed me out of the canteen. As we walked back to the dorms, he muttered under his breath about how unfair life was.

"Next time, maybe it'll be soup," he said, his tone hopeful.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that it probably wouldn't be.