The broadcast announced: "Congratulations to student number 849! You are about to receive a surprise gift package from the Rabbit Overseers—one Props Card! When you need it, you can request one item from the Rabbit Overseers. Note: this is a one-time use only opportunity!"
The plot twist was a full 180 degrees.
Everyone had assumed Harrison was dead meat.
Judging by his expression, Harrison himself had thought so too.
But when the compartment beneath his table opened and a small stamp rose up on a mechanical arm, pressing against the back of his hand with a soft click, everyone saw the bold red letters: "PROPS CARD."
In that moment, the looks directed at Harrison shifted from worry to jealousy and admiration.
Harrison let out a huge breath of relief and finished the last of his food.
The other six at his table scrambled to finish theirs before time ran out.
Once they'd all cleared their plates, the atmosphere in the cafeteria shifted entirely.
Before, everyone had been praying not to get the surprise gift.
But after Harrison claimed his Props Card in front of everyone, the winds changed. Now everyone wanted to win something.
I was no exception—though I was hoping for something like yesterday's lifesaving card instead.
After the first demonstration round, it was time for the next group of seven.
This time, two groups went simultaneously—fourteen people total, but still divided into their individual seven-dish sets.
The same dishes lowered from above on cables.
Thanks to Harrison's Props Card, the fourteen newcomers watched the descending plates with eager anticipation.
The moment their plates landed, they started eating immediately.
Five minutes on the clock.
About three minutes in, two of them froze—teeth clicking on something hard.
They pulled the objects from their mouths.
One was a gold star. One was a purple sphere.
The system announced: "Congratulations to these two students on receiving surprise gift packages! The gold star is an Exemption Card—you may skip any challenge except the final round, choosing instead to rest in your dorm. The purple sphere is a Scapegoat Card—when the holder receives a punishment, they may designate any other player to take their place."
The Scapegoat Card was essentially a reverse lifesaving card.
But it was worse than that—it was a death note. Point at whoever you wanted dead.
Everyone looked at the girl holding the Scapegoat Card with a mixture of dread and fawning.
Nobody wanted to offend her, afraid she'd use it on them out of spite.
With three surprise packages and zero deaths, the cafeteria atmosphere grew almost festive.
People began to think today's breakfast challenge was a gift from the organizers—an easy round to coast through.
Then the next round threw everything into chaos.
Three groups went at once. Twenty-one people.
Three of them bit into foreign objects.
They eagerly extracted them.
All three were black triangles.
What did triangles mean?
The system spoke: "Congratulations to these three students, each receiving a surprise gift package! The black triangle represents Sacrifice—meaning these three students may end their game faster than anyone else!"
Their faces shifted from anxiety to wild excitement. "What do you mean, we get to skip to the final round and go home with the grand prize?"
The broadcast didn't answer. Instead, a burst of laughter echoed through the speakers. "Congratulations, students. Game over."
As soon as the words left the speaker, all three of them spat mouthfuls of blood.
They stared at the blood staining their clothes, seemingly unable to process what had just happened.
The next second, they collapsed to the floor, dead.
So "ending the game quickly" meant death.
Fear descended over the cafeteria like a shroud.
We all understood now: along with surprise gift packages, there were death packages.
Every round was a double gamble.
First, you gambled on getting a package at all.
Then, you gambled that your package was a surprise, not a death sentence.
In the following rounds, some people received powerful ability cards.
Others died, collecting their final meal.
I spotted Quinn—he'd gotten lucky too, winning a Props Card like Harrison.
My anxiety grew.
Soon, it was time for the center group—our group.
Only a handful of people remained, so everyone went at once instead of splitting into sevens.
Plates descended from above, one for each of us.
Suddenly, Vivian on my right whispered, "Eat slowly. Even if you bite into something, don't make a sound."
"Why?"
Vivian spoke sotto voce: "I just figured it out. There's a pattern to the surprise and death packages. Our round happens to be scheduled for a death package. But since we're a random leftover group, the system might not know exactly how many packages will appear. If you bite into something and feel a triangle with your tongue, I suggest you swallow it."
I swallowed hard, understanding her logic.
That was a third layer of gambling—a bet that the system wouldn't know how many packages to announce for our final irregular group.
Then a plate of mapo tofu landed in front of me.
The countdown started. I picked up my spoon and dug in.
After a few spoonfuls, my teeth clicked against something hard.
I immediately lowered my head and probed with my tongue.
Vivian was right—I'd bitten into a triangle.
No choice. All in.
I pressed my tongue down, kept quiet, and swallowed the triangle along with the tofu.
Five minutes later, time was up.
And then came the problem.
Our final group—no one had announced finding a package.
My tension ratcheted up.
Was I the only one, or had others swallowed theirs too?
I scanned the faces around me.
A few people were glancing around just like me.
When our eyes met, just one exchanged look was enough to confirm—others had done the same.
We sat in terrified silence, waiting for the broadcast to announce results.
But the speaker was dead silent.
I grew more anxious, sitting on pins and needles.
After a while, the surviving players who'd already finished began murmuring among themselves.
The cafeteria grew increasingly noisy, until finally the broadcast crackled to life.
First came the sound of static.
Then a woman's voice—not the usual AI—spoke: "Students in the final group who bit into a package, please stand up and identify yourselves. Don't waste everyone's time."
The threat was unmistakable.
We sat frozen. No one spoke.
The woman repeated her demand.
Still, no one stood.
A cold laugh from the broadcast. "Since you won't cooperate, all other students may return to your dorms. The final group will remain in the cafeteria until the students who received packages come forward."
Everyone else filed out. Only our eleven stayed behind.
I glanced involuntarily at Quinn and Harrison.
Quinn shot me a smug, superior look.
Harrison's face was etched with worry.
I watched them walk out with their Props Cards like victorious generals, while I sat here in disgrace.
How ironic—I'd always been a top student and had never been kept after school in my life.
This was a first.
A loud boom echoed as the cafeteria doors sealed shut, locks engaging, red lights flashing above the doorframes.
The broadcast spoke again: "You have ten minutes to convince each other. If someone voluntarily steps forward, the rest of you may leave. But if ten minutes pass with no one coming forward, everyone will receive the punishment together. The countdown begins now."
The red numbers on the screen started ticking.
The person to my left suddenly found a compartment opening at the edge of the table. A blank A4 sheet of paper and a black pen emerged on a mechanical arm.
He grabbed the pen and paper without hesitation and started writing furiously.
His message read: "To whoever got the package—please step forward! You can write your last wishes on this paper, and if I make it out, I swear on my life I'll fulfill them for you!!"
He passed the pen and paper to his left.