Chapter 200: The Recess Banger
Half the school day had passed in a blur before lunch break finally arrived.
Rohit sat at his usual table in the bustling cafeteria, surrounded by the familiar chaos of trays, lunch boxes, and loud conversations. He had ordered butter chicken with naan today.
To his mild surprise, it was actually decent — nowhere near the standards of the Singhania estate, but far better than the tasteless disaster he had suffered through last week.
Across from him, Akhil opened his tiffin box and shyly pushed it toward the center of the table.
"I know it isn’t much," he said modestly, "but have some."
Inside were simple homemade chapatis with potato and onion curry. Before anyone else could move, Jignesh lunged forward and snatched the entire box.
"Deal!" he declared. "You eat my dhokla, I eat this."
The box barely stayed in his hands for two seconds before Subhojit snatched it away.
"Fatty, don’t monopolize Aunty’s cooking. Good food is meant to be shared."
Arvind nodded solemnly. "That’s my son. Wise judgment."
Subhojit scoffed. "A needle comparing itself to a sword. How insolent." He tore off a piece of chapati, took a dramatic bite, and flexed his arm. "It will take generations for your South Indian bloodline to produce a specimen as magnificent as me. Observe the difference."
"What difference?" Arvind shot back, adjusting his glasses. "A failed product surviving on protein powder. Now hand it over."
The argument escalated instantly as Subhojit pulled the box away, grinning. "Say who’s your daddy first."
Rohit ignored their usual nonsense and quietly scrolled through his phone.
He was deep into the Mittal family succession drama. Aditya’s father, Lakshmi Narayan Mittal, had built an empire from almost nothing.
Vaishali Mittal — the youngest sister — had caught his attention the most.
Recently divorced, stunning, ambitious, and currently making headlines over succession rights. A photo of her standing elegantly on a yacht appeared on his screen.
A divorcee with that figure, elegance, and ambition... Rohit’s eyes lingered. She could be useful.
His thoughts were interrupted when Subhojit pushed the tiffin box toward him.
"Hey Rohit, take a bite."
Rohit absentmindedly took a piece of chapati, chewed, and nodded. "It’s good."
Jignesh raised an eyebrow. "He actually reacted. Breaking news. We must be witnessing a miracle or the apocalypse."
Arvind, with zero filter, added, "Look at our Gen-Z bug. No connection with the real world. He’s only here with us for namesake. I really miss the old Rohit."
Rohit finally looked up, irritation flashing across his face. He locked his phone and set it aside with a scoff.
"Not my fault," he replied dryly. "You guys speak like children. Zero self-awareness or basic maturity. Honestly, if anyone should be complaining, it’s me. I sometimes wonder how the old me managed to be friends with all of you."
The table immediately erupted.
Jignesh clutched his chest dramatically. "Something inside me just broke."
Subhojit facepalmed. "Damn. Rohit became an uncle."
"Grand uncle," Arvind added with mock solemnity.
For once, Akhil didn’t laugh. His expression turned thoughtful as he stared at his tiffin.
"I think he’s right," Akhil said quietly.
The laughter faded. The table gradually quieted.
Akhil lowered his gaze. "We really are immature sometimes. We were always the easy targets. The outcasts. Maybe that’s why people walked all over us." His voice softened. "Maybe that’s why I got kidnapped."
An awkward silence fell over the group. The playful atmosphere vanished in an instant.
Arvind awkwardly patted his shoulder. "Sorry, bro. We didn’t mean it like that."
Jignesh nodded. "Yeah, man."
Akhil gave a small, forced smile. "Forget it." He tried changing the subject. "Did you guys hear about Harsha and Victor?"
Rohit’s attention immediately sharpened. "What about them?"
"I heard they’ve been arrested", Jignesh replied.
Now everyone looked interested.
He leaned forward eagerly. "Last Saturday, someone pasted a newspaper clipping on the notice board. The son of a US diplomat got caught in a major drug case."
Everyone at the table knew exactly who he meant.
The administration hadn’t confirmed anything.
But nobody was stupid.
Subhojit jumped in. "Not just that. With Harsha and Victor gone, the entire delinquent scene has gone crazy. "
"Rocky and Shailesh are practically in a cold war."
"I swear Rocky is only waiting for Shailesh to graduate."
Arvind groaned. "Why are we even talking about those idiots? School is finally peaceful."
He suddenly grinned. "Let’s discuss something important instead."
Everyone knew what was coming.
"Our hot teacher, Karishma."
Several boys laughed. Rohit casually joined in. "What happened to her?"
"Nothing major," Subhojit said. "But she looked distracted last week. Less energetic during lectures."
Jignesh lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I heard something worse. Apparently she had an affair with a student. Someone even said there’s a video. Probably from our school."
Akhil nearly choked on his food. "That’s ridiculous," he said quickly, a little too defensively. "People shouldn’t spread rumors like that."
Subhojit immediately pointed at him. "Look at this guy defending her. If not for you being her favorite student and personal simp, we’d think you were the student in the video."
The table burst into loud laughter. Akhil turned bright red.
Rohit watched the exchange with quiet amusement, but decided to step in before things spiraled. He didn’t want anything interfering with his plans involving Akhil and Karishma later today.
"Enough," Rohit cut through the noise. "Have we finalized the project or not?"
Akhil frowned. "What’s wrong with the current one? We already decided on the routine calendar app — daily goals, habit tracking, reminders. It sounded decent."
Jignesh immediately shook his head. "Decent won’t get us marks. The professor wants a minimum of ten thousand downloads before final evaluation. Ten thousand. Does he think we’re launching the next Instagram?"
"Then change the app," Arvind suggested. "The objective is passing, not revolutionizing humanity."
"That’s exactly what I’m saying," Jignesh replied. "Nobody downloads habit trackers anymore."
Rohit wiped his hands with a tissue and spoke calmly. "I have an idea."
Everyone turned toward him.
"I want to build a dating app."
The table burst into loud laughter. Jignesh nearly choked on his dhokla. Even Subhojit laughed.
"A dating app?" Jignesh wheezed. "Brilliant. Why didn’t Google think of that?"
Rohit waited patiently for the laughter to die down, then looked directly at Jignesh. The look lasted only two seconds, but it was enough. Jignesh stopped laughing immediately.
"Okay," he muttered. "Continue."
Rohit leaned back. "Most dating apps judge people before they even speak — photos, height, status, money. Everything except actual interaction."
Akhil folded his arms. "So what’s your solution?"
"A blind-date model."
The table quieted.
"Users still create full profiles — interests, hobbies, verification, preferences. Everything normal. But the photos remain blurred."
Arvind slapped the table. "Finally. My ugly face has a fighting chance."
The group laughed.
"I’m serious," Rohit said calmly. "The mystery itself becomes the attraction."
Akhil shook his head. "We can’t force users to interact if they don’t like the match. And without photos, there’s a huge risk of scams. We’ll get serious backlash."
Rohit leaned back slightly. "We won’t force anyone. Everything stays the same — interest-based matching, registration, photo verification. The only difference is that photos remain blurred on both sides. There’ll be an ’interaction meter’ that increases as they talk. Photos only unlock after they reach a certain level. People can still decide to continue or walk away based on conversation. The selling point is making users interact before judging each other purely on looks."
Subhojit’s eyes lit up. "Damn. That’s actually a really good idea. I’m all in."
Slowly, the others started nodding in agreement. But Jignesh still looked skeptical.
"Nah," he muttered. "We’ll face server issues. It looks way more complicated than a simple habit tracker."
Arvind immediately blasted him with zero filter. "The bastard is scared. He thinks it’ll eat into his father’s ’Marry Me’ app market share."
Subhojit nudged Arvind with a grin. "Come on, fatty. It’s only for marks. Don’t be so narrow-minded."
Jignesh’s face reddened. He hadn’t expected to be cornered like this. "Hey, my concern is genuine!" he barked. "You think renting a server is enough? What if the app crashes? Reputation management is no joke."
Rohit replied calmly, almost casually, "That’s for later. And if it really happens.. then get your father to share his server as backup. Can’t you?"
Jignesh blinked, visibly surprised. "What?"
The entire table immediately turned toward him with mischievous grins.
Subhojit leaned in. "Yes. Use your corporate privilege for academic purposes."
"Shut up."
"Do it for friendship."
"Shut up."
"Do it for science."
"Still shut up."
The table erupted into loud laughter.
As the banter continued back and forth, Rohit leaned back in his chair, quietly amused, a faint chuckle escaping him.
To the others, this was just another college project. Marks. Grades. A dating app.
But for Rohit, none of that mattered. The app itself was secondary.
What he truly wanted was data — vast amounts of it.
With this platform, he could embed trackers and backdoors into thousands of users’ phones through a single innocent link.
User behavior, interaction patterns, contact lists, private preferences... everything would flow straight into his hands.
The kind of leverage that could be turned into serious money or power later.
If he could even get a giant like ’Marry Me’ to collaborate, the rewards would be enormous. It might sound childish but he was certain of his idea to succeed. If not, this small app would still serve as an excellent testing ground.
His phone vibrated on the table.
A missed call from Seo-yeon.
Rohit glanced across the cafeteria.
Several tables away, she sat alone, staring at an untouched tray of food. The moment their eyes met, she quickly looked away, a clear pout on her face.
He raised an eyebrow. ’Interesting.’
Opening their chat, he saw her last message — a simple "Thank you" after receiving the translated PDF notes he had sent her.
He typed back quickly.
[Rohit: You’re welcome. That’s what friends are for.]
Her reply came almost instantly.
[Seo-yeon: Are we friends?]
[Rohit: I thought so.]
[Seo-yeon: I thought it was just convenience.]
Rohit couldn’t help chuckling softly. Now he understood why she was sulking.
[Rohit: Our princess seems offended.]
The typing bubble appeared right away.
[Seo-yeon: Very offended.]
[Seo-yeon: You talked to Namrata twice this week.]
[Seo-yeon: How many times did you talk to me?]
Rohit’s smile widened.
[Rohit: That was coincidence.]
[Seo-yeon: Excuses.]
[Rohit: Last time you literally told me not to come over.]
[Seo-yeon: But you still visited Namrata.]
[Rohit: So what do you want?]
Several seconds passed.
Then came her simple reply.
[Seo-yeon: Prove it.]
Rohit glanced toward her again. She was still stubbornly refusing to look in his direction — oversized glasses, neat ponytail, and that faint, adorable pout.
Cute.
A mischievous idea sparked in his mind.
[Rohit: Coming to your table.]
Seo-yeon’s head snapped up instantly, eyes wide.
[Rohit: Don’t panic.]
[Rohit: And speak English. Treat everything normal.]
Her face turned bright red. The replies came flooding in.
[Seo-yeon: Are you insane?]
[Seo-yeon: It was a joke!]
[Seo-yeon: Don’t come!]
Rohit smiled as he typed his final reply, attaching a little devil emoji.
[Rohit: Too late.]