CHAPTER 4: CANTEEN

CANTEEN:

The college canteen was a vibrant hub of chaos, where every table was packed to capacity and students overflowed onto every available surface. The air was electric with the hum of laughter and conversation, creating a dynamic atmosphere that pulsed with energy.

And then In an instant, the canteen's vibrant atmosphere was replaced by an unsettling stillness. A hush fell over the hall, Conversations froze, mid-sentence, as if time itself had paused. A collective gasp hung in the air, and then, a soft murmur of whispers began to circulate through the crowd, like ripples on a pond.

Every gaze in the room converged on a lone figure from the canteen staff, standing at 5'11" with a beast like physique that seemed chiseled from granite. His imposing presence was a palpable force, commanding attention with an effortless intensity that was impossible to ignore.

His rugged look, complete with a thick beard and a mustache fit for a king, his hair cropped to a practical length, complemented the masculine allure of his features and strikingly manly, handsome face marked by a scar on his left cheek, mark that spoke of untold stories, lending him an air of mystique.

He exuded a wild, almost otherworldly divine persona that left everyone in the canteen awestruck.

The girls' hearts pounded like hammers, their eyes fixated on the man with unabashed fascination. Many felt an overwhelming urge of desire and got wet down there at the sight of this handsome beast of a man, their faces flushing with attraction, while almost every boy was struck with a deep sense of inferiority, in the face of his unbridled masculinity.

The spell was broken by a girl's voice, "Oh, hello! What's wrong with you all?" The speaker was Anya Raheja, princess daughter of the billionaire industrial mogul Vikram Raheja. "Have you all gone mad? Why are you staring at him like that? Has he casted a spell on you all?" She said sarcastically.

Meera, Anya's friend and another billionaire's daughter, responded with a teasing smile, "What do you mean? Don't you see how he looks? Oh my god, he's like a regal beast, majestic and untamed, waiting to be tamed." She giggled to herself, her eyes never leaving the mysterious figure.

"Hmm... Yeah, he does seem like a wild one,"," Anya said, her voice dripping with the pride and ego of being the daughter of the biggest tycoon. "Well, let's humble him then and teach him some manners."

She raised her voice, loud and clear, "Hey, waiter! Why are you standing there like a dumb robot? Come here and take our order."Laughter erupted from some corners of the canteen, while others just shook their heads in disbelief at her commanding tone and sighed at Anya's audacity.

The man looked directly at the owner of the voice, holding his gaze for a full five seconds. Then, in a cold yet calm tone, his voice resonating like thunder, he replied, "This is a self-service establishment, ma'am." The timbre of his voice hung in the air, the room fell silent, captivated by the sheer power of his voice.

After a moment of stunned silence, as if on cue, laughter erupted throughout the canteen. Anya stood up, her cheeks burning with the sting of public embarrassment, seeing the crowd's reaction, she felt a surge of humiliation at being disrespected in front of everyone by someone she deemed no more than a waiter.

Anya's voice rose, each word laced with indignation. "How dare you address me in such a manner? Are you aware of who I am?" she demanded, her voice thick with anger. The man met her gaze unwavering, his reply came as a cool breeze, unfazed and serene. "I'm acquainted with many here, But perhaps you don't realize that this canteen isn't mine, and I didn't make the rules."

With those words, he turned and strode towards a vacant table, beginning to clear it with methodical precision. Anya's smile twisted into a sneer, and she couldn't resist the jibe that followed. "Look at that," she announced with biting sarcasm, "he's not even a waiter—he's just a cleaner." Her laughter rang out, sharp and mocking, cutting through the hum of the canteen.

Anya clicked her tongue in disapproval, her head shaking subtly as she settled back into her chair with an air of superiority. Her eyes lingered on the man for a long stretch, watching him wipe the table clean and then going towards a window, he stood there looking out.

Leaning closer to her group, Anya whispered with a conspiratorial edge, "Watch how I deal with this cleaner." And with a swift, deliberate motion, she swept her arm across the table, scattered the trash across the table's surface in a defiant act of provocation.

Raj Tiwari, the son of a prominent politician and a member of Anya's inner circle, had been scrutinizing closely, the man standing at the window. His gaze was fixed, unyielding, until he noticed something startling—the man's eyes transformed, becoming pools of inky black. Raj's heart skipped a beat, and he leaned in to murmur to his friends, "Guys, look at his eyes—they've turned completely black!"

The group turned their heads in unison, only to find the man's back turned to them. Anya, overhearing Raj's alarmed whisper, scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "Oh, please," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "you're so intimidated by his physique that you're imagining things now."

Raj, irritated and certain of what he had seen, retorted, "I don't care about anyone's physique, but I know what I saw. There's something off about this guy, I can feel it."Meera, frustrated by the escalating tension between Anya and Raj, interjected, "What's gotten into you two? Why are you both so obsessed with him? Is it because he's unusually attractive, even though he's just a waiter?"

Anya's retort was swift, her sarcasm thinly veiled, "First of all, he's not that attractive or handsome; He's just decent-looking, at best." that's all." Emphasizing her disdain, she continued, "And yes, he's a mere pathetic cleaner, not a waiter. I wanted to see his face while cleaning this table, but we're getting late for class. Come on, let's go."

Standing up with an air of superiority, she pointed at the man and shouted, "Hey, cleaner! Make sure to clean this table properly," her laughter echoing in the canteen.

The man approached the table, with a cold composure, his eyes locking onto the group, then settling on Anya. His unwavering gaze was cold and emotionless, that sent a shiver down her spine, and feeling unnerved, she quickly walked out of the canteen, her confidence shaken.

The rest of the group exchanged uneasy glances, offered a small, awkward smile to the man, and hurriedly followed her out.