Secret Lunch

The clock ticked a few more minutes before the last period of the morning session ended.

 

Meanwhile, Raphael had been tapping his pen on the desk, waiting for the bell to ring, while one thing was stuck in his mind and his stubborn grumbling stomach.

Sandwich.

Not just any ordinary sandwich.....

Specifically craved the one with aged prosciutto, burrata cheese, arugula greens, and a drizzle of truffle oil. Meticulously prepared by the chef just as he remembered eating for the last time before he stepped out of his home.

The thought of eating cafeteria food once more sent a repulsive churn in his guts, and low-grade meals wouldn't satiate the hunger of his fancy taste buds.

Probably, it's best if he skips today.

Unfortunately, Uncle Frederic seemed to be missing his calls lately. He wanted to have lunch with him this time, so he could eat his favorite meal.

Is he in a meeting?

What else could he be doing in his office?

His phone on the desk buzzed once.

A message popped up.

'Sir Raphael. I have set your meal in Storage Room Unit 204. The Second floor Southern Wing.'

Just in time.

His chauffeur sent him the meeting place. Although it's risky. He couldn't hold back despite the fact that he needed to be lowkey.

Sometimes, pretending to be one proved to be difficult, especially when it comes to food.

As soon as the bell rang deafeningly in the halls, Raphael quickly pocketed his phone and immediately darted out of the classroom before anyone could intercept him.

"Yo Raph-" Antonio was cut short, startled.

 

"He in a rush?" Alexis wondered.

 

"Aww demn." Antonio sighed. "Just wanted to invite him for lunch."

"He prolly got traumatized from yesterday's lunch." Feyline inserted with a chuckle.

"Let's just go." Alexis motioned his hand as the group left the room.

 

The classroom stood silently as the emptiness resonated in contrast to the crowded, noisy corridors.

At the back of the room, just beside the huge window panes, a student remained seated.

Sylvia Macaulay hadn’t moved.

Her legs crossed while her hand lay on top of her desk, with her fingers deliberately making a noise against the wood.

Tap. Tap.

Tap. tap.

Her eyes remembered Raphael’s retreating through the doorway before he disappeared fully into the crowd.

Then, she stood up in a swift motion, not in a hurry, but like a cat catching this particular interesting scent.

Just like that, she slipped into the crowd as well.

The corridor was packed.

Students rushed hurriedly for lunch in the cafeteria, shoving others to the side. Laughter filled the halls along the rows of lockers.

Then, the smell of cheap fried food drifted up from below.

Raphael wove through the sea of students like a masterful ship captain in the storm.

He took the nearby staircase and descended two levels, where the crowd had significantly thinned out, before his direction headed towards the Southern Wing of the Academy.

Storage Room Unit 204 was located at the far end of the campus, like a forgotten, unmarked, dusty maintenance closet that the school had left behind.

It should be roughly five or so minutes since he received the text.

The moment he twisted the doorknob open.

A creak from its old hinges resonated all over the empty corridor.

Inside the room, it smelled like a mixture of old paper and cleaning solution. It was also filled with stacks of unused desks, boxes of old textbooks, and a pile of chairs stacked in a single column.

Then, like a welcoming sight, a single light bulb flickered overhead. Beneath it, a recently well-polished desk had been set up in the middle of the room with an insulated lunch box on top.

His chauffeur, wearing what seemed to be a maintenance worker's overalls, stood by the side with poise.

“Sir,” the man said quietly, bowing his head.

“ Truffle Oil Prosciutto Burrata sandwich, as requested.”

Raphael exhaled in relief, almost smiling. “Thanks. You may leave now.”

The chauffeur bowed down before exiting the room without a sound after being dismissed by him.

The excitement on Raphael's face couldn't be kept as he sat on a polished chair with his fingers carefully unwrapping the sandwich.

The first bite was heaven: crisp bread, creamy cheese, salty meat, peppery greens, umami-filled drizzle of truffle.

His stomach no longer grumbled from hunger.

It had been satisfied.

Outside the door...

In the dark, shadowy part of the hallway...

Sylvia Macaulay was there, leaning against the wall.

She had been following at a certain distance enough to remain unseen. She was able to trail him down the stairs like a stalker finding its prey.

Now, she stood just out of sight with arms crossed, listening to the faint rustle of paper and the soft clink of a water bottle.

Her lips curved.

Not in the cafeteria.

Not eating with the others?

Is he hiding something?

She tilted her head as the orange hair illuminated from the dim bulb light.

"Interesting," she muttered under her breath.

She didn’t knock or disturb him by entering.

She simply waited patiently until she heard the faint sound of the box's lid closing, the chair shifting as he stood.

Then, instinctively, she merged back into the shadows in silence.

Just as Raphael emerged a minute later with composure restored and the lunch box in his other hand.

He headed back upstairs, fully unaware of the pair of eyes that watched his back.

She allowed herself to let him go.

It wasn't the perfect time, but her appetite just started.