Chapter 170 - 169: Categories of Rich Second Generation
Rex leaned back against the counter, arms folded behind his head, as if this was all part of some grand master plan.
"Eh. Life’s short," he said. "Might as well make lunch legendary."
A few started clapping. Someone actually dropped to one knee in mock worship.
The cafeteria was buzzing—some taking pictures, others just staring in stunned admiration like they were witnessing a historical event. Laughter, chatter, and the distant sound of kitchen chaos filled the air.
But just as they were busy frolicking around in the high of free food and Rex’s rising status as Class Lunch Messiah, a sharp, discordant voice sliced through the air like a rusty knife scraping a chalkboard.
"Humph! What is all this fuss about? Isn’t it just a free meal? What’s the big deal? Hmph, these peasants."
The room fell silent, and the laughter fading into awkward silence, like someone had suddenly unplugged the aux cord at a party.
Rex frowned and turned to the side, his chill expression tightening just a little. A boy around his age was standing there with a smug look that just screamed "villain in a teen drama."
He had dirty blond hair perfectly gelled into an overconfident swoop, typical icy blue eyes that screamed, My dad plays golf with the dean, and a square face that probably had a mirror quota to meet every morning. Beside him were a couple of equally smug sidekicks—dressed just a bit too polished for a casual lunch break. One of them was adjusting his Holex like it was a reflex. Another chewing gum like a cow chewing cud.
The guy’s arms were crossed, one brow raised like he’d just caught peasants dancing in the royal court.
Oh, great. This guy.