The morning bell of Lycée Dévoreur tolled like a funeral dirge, reverberating through the ivy-clad walls of the peculiar high school. The courtyard buzzed with a mix of nervous energy and barely contained chaos as students spilled out of classrooms, their whispers tinged with dread. The "Feeding Roster" was the topic on everyone’s lips—a twisted set of rules enforced by hawk-eyed teachers who patrolled the grounds like wardens. Boys darted anxious glances over their shoulders, wondering who would be next to fall prey to the bizarre “resource” system that governed this strange institution.
Amid the throng, Sanabel strode through the courtyard like a queen surveying her kingdom. The senior’s presence was magnetic, her confident swagger cutting a path through the crowd. Her sharp, kohl-lined eyes scanned the masses, hunting for her next target. Behind her, her clique of equally fierce girls trailed like a pack of hyenas, their giggles and taunts slicing through the morning air.
“Girls, I’m famished,” Sanabel drawled, her voice a sultry purr as she tossed her dark hair over one shoulder. “Who’s on the menu today?”
“Oh, look at that one by the fountain,” chirped Lila, her lips curling into a mischievous grin as she pointed. “He’s got ‘easy pickings’ written all over him.”
Sanabel’s gaze locked onto YourI, a lanky junior fumbling with a stack of books near the mossy stone fountain. His gangly frame and oblivious demeanor made him stand out like a wounded gazelle in a savanna. He adjusted his glasses, muttering to himself about equations, completely unaware of the predatory eyes sizing him up from across the courtyard.
“Deliciously clueless,” Sanabel muttered, her lips twisting into a wicked smirk. “I think I’ve found my breakfast.”
Her friends erupted in laughter, one of them elbowing her playfully. “Go get him, Sanny! Show him what Lycée Dévoreur is really about!”
The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Sanabel sauntered toward YourI, her boots clicking against the cobblestones with purposeful menace. Whispers rippled through the onlookers, bets already being placed on how long the poor boy would last under her reign. She stopped just inches from him, her shadow looming over his hunched form. With a snap of her fingers right in front of his nose, she commanded his attention.
“Hey, little snack,” she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “You lost, or just waiting for someone to gobble you up?”
YourI jolted, his books tumbling to the ground in a chaotic heap. His face flushed a deep crimson as he scrambled to pick them up, his wide eyes finally meeting hers. “W-what? I—I’m just… I didn’t—” he stammered, his voice barely above a squeak.
Sanabel tilted her head, circling him like a shark scenting blood. “Oh, look at this,” she teased, poking at his scrawny arm with a manicured finger. “Not much meat on these bones. Guess I’ll need a side of fries with my meal.” Her laughter was sharp, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle.
“I—I’ve got a math test next period!” YourI blurted out, clutching a stray notebook to his chest like a shield. “I can’t—I mean, I’m not—”
Sanabel cut him off with a throaty chuckle, stepping closer until he could feel the heat of her presence. “Oh, sweetheart, your brain’s probably tastier than your excuses. Don’t worry, I’ll savor every bite.” Her eyes glinted with mischief, but there was an edge of steel beneath her playful tone.
She straightened, her demeanor shifting from teasing to commanding in an instant. “By the authority of the Feeding Roster, I hereby claim you as my resource for the day,” she declared, her voice icy and unyielding. “You’ve got no choice, little snack. One request, minimum. And trust me, I’ve got plenty of ideas.”
YourI’s shoulders slumped, the weight of the school’s ironclad rules crashing down on him. Behind Sanabel, her friends cheered, tossing playful jabs her way. “Bon appétit, Sanny!” one of them called out, while another mimed taking a bite out of an imaginary sandwich.
Before he could muster another feeble protest, Sanabel grabbed his wrist, her grip firm and unrelenting. “Come on, snack boy. We’ve got paperwork to file,” she said, dragging him toward the administrative office. He stumbled along behind her, his sneakers scuffing against the ground as he tried—and failed—to pull away.
“W-wait, can’t we talk about this?” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “I’m really not… I mean, I’m not good at… whatever this is!”
Sanabel glanced over her shoulder, her smirk widening. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll play with my food before the main course. Gotta build up an appetite, right?” Her laughter echoed through the courtyard, drawing more curious stares from the other students. Some looked on with pity, others with amusement, but none dared intervene. The rules were absolute, and Sanabel was a force of nature.
YourI’s mind raced with panic, his eyes darting around for any possible escape route. But the courtyard was a cage, the towering walls and watchful teachers ensuring there was no way out. The other students merely watched, some whispering words of condolence under their breath, others shaking their heads as if to say, *Better him than me.*
As they reached the heavy oak door of the administrative office, Sanabel shoved it open with a flourish, her voice booming through the quiet room. “Got my lunch order ready!” she announced to the startled clerk behind the desk. “Hope you’ve got the shrink ray warmed up!”
The clerk, a dour woman with a permanent scowl, barely looked up from her paperwork. “Name and roster number,” she droned, as if claims like this were an everyday occurrence—which, at Lycée Dévoreur, they were.
Sanabel grinned, yanking YourI forward by the wrist. “Sanabel Veyron, Roster 007. And this little morsel here is all mine for the taking.”
YourI swallowed hard, the reality of his predicament sinking in as the clerk’s pen scratched across the form. Whatever game Sanabel was playing, he was now officially a part of it—and there was no turning back.
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