Next day, in the school when the lunch bell rang, echoing down the long corridors of St. Elora's high School. Ananya clutched her tiffin box tightly as she navigated the crowded hallway, trying not to bump into seniors who glared at her like intruders guarding their territory.
Her eyes wandered across the buzzing cafeteria. Groups huddled together—laughing, whispering, trading secrets. Everyone seemed to belong somewhere. Everyone except her.
She picked an empty corner table, grateful for the quiet. But just as she opened her box, a shadow fell across her.
A boy with messy hair and tired eyes slid into the seat opposite her, without asking. His uniform was slightly crumpled, his tie hanging loose as if he'd stopped caring. He didn't say hello, didn't even look at her at first. Instead, he muttered under his breath, almost to himself:
"You shouldn't sit here."
Ananya blinked. Excuse me?
"Why not?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
The boy finally looked up, his gaze sharp, almost warning. "Because people will notice. And once they do… they'll start talking."
His cryptic words unsettled her. "Talking about what?"
Before he could answer, a group of students walked past, laughing too loudly. The boy went silent instantly, shoulders stiff, eyes darting around. When the group was gone, he leaned closer and whispered,
"Do you know about Rudra?"
The name sent a shiver down her spine. She had heard it whispered yesterday, in fragments, but no one had explained.
"Who's Rudra?" she asked carefully.
The boy's lips pressed into a thin line, as if saying too much could cost him. "He… used to sit at this very table. Two years ago. Then he vanished. No one saw him leave. No one saw him again. And trust me…" His voice dropped lower. "It wasn't an accident."
Ananya felt her throat tighten. "You mean—he disappeared inside the school?"
The boy gave a bitter smile. "Disappeared isn't the right word. St. Elora's swallowed him."
Her fork clattered against the table. She leaned in, whispering urgently. "Who are you?"
"Aaryan," he said finally, though the name sounded like a mask he wasn't used to wearing. "And if you're smart, you'll stop asking questions. This school doesn't like questions."
Before Ananya could stop him, Aaryan stood up and walked away, leaving her with more questions than answers.
Her pulse quickened as she noticed something strange—students nearby had been watching their table. Some smirked, others whispered, a few glared as if she had broken an unspoken rule.
That night, Ananya couldn't sleep. Aaryan's words replayed in her head.
St. Elora's swallowed him.
It wasn't an accident.
She remembered the cold, locked door she had passed yesterday—Room 47. The brass plate on it had been scratched, almost like someone tried to erase its number.
And now, a name haunted her.
Rudra.