What Answered Her Call

Chapter 12: Hunger

Hannah skipped breakfast on day twenty-eight.

Not because she wasn't hungry—her stomach had been making demands since she woke at 5:47 AM—but because the refectory meal would cost 47 Starcoins and she needed those credits more than she needed food.

The math was simple. She had 558 Starcoins in her account. Dr. Okonkwo's research position would add 50 Starcoins at the end of the week, but that was five days away. Her next loan payment accrued 239 Starcoins in interest every day. She was bleeding credits faster than she could earn them, and every expenditure had to be calculated against the countdown in the corner of her vision.

**28 days, 17 hours, 13 minutes, 44 seconds.**

Twenty-eight days until the trial. Twenty-eight days to gather resources she couldn't afford. Every Starcoin mattered.

So Hannah drank water from her room's dispenser—free, at least for now—and walked to her morning class with her stomach cramping and her head feeling slightly too light.

The hunger wasn't unbearable yet. Just present. A constant awareness that her body needed fuel she couldn't provide. She'd read somewhere that summoners could function on reduced calories for short periods without losing too much capability. The body adapted. Prioritized essential functions. Became efficient.

She told herself this was efficiency. Optimization. Strategic resource allocation.

Her stomach told her this was starvation.

By 11:30 AM, Hannah's hands were shaking slightly during Professor Reeves' lecture on team dynamics. She kept her fingers laced together in her lap, hiding the tremor. Kept her attention focused on the lecture even though the words seemed to slide past her concentration.

Reeves was discussing ethical decision-making frameworks. Using Team Daystar as an example. Again.

"What we see here is the intersection of personal loyalty and professional obligation," Reeves said, displaying the ANN article on the classroom holoscreen. "Teams must balance individual relationships against collective success. It's never easy, but it's essential."

Hannah stared at the article she'd read last night. At the sanitized version of her expulsion being used as a teaching tool for thirty students who were learning that using people was ethical if you called it optimization.

Her stomach cramped again, harder this time. She pressed her hand against her abdomen and tried to breathe through it.

"Ms. Okoye," Reeves said, and Hannah's head snapped up. "You have direct experience with team transitions. Would you like to contribute to the discussion?"

Every student in the class turned to look at her. Hannah felt their attention like physical weight. Some looked curious. Others looked uncomfortable. A few looked actively hostile, as if her presence in the classroom was an affront to the ethical framework they were studying.

"I don't think I have anything useful to add," Hannah said, keeping her voice level.

"Surely you have some perspective on the decision-making process?" Reeves pressed. "From your position as the team member whose role was restructured?"

The team member whose role was restructured. Not Hannah Okoye, who'd built Team Daystar's tactical foundation. Not the person who'd been voted out unanimously. Just a role. A position. An abstract concept being discussed in theoretical terms.

"I wasn't part of their decision-making process," Hannah said. "I was the decision they made."

Silence spread through the classroom. Reeves' expression tightened slightly.

"Yes, well. That's one perspective." She turned back to the holoscreen. "Let's examine the framework Captain Chen described in his interview..."

The lecture continued. Hannah stopped listening.

By 13:00, when classes ended for the midday meal period, Hannah's hunger had progressed from uncomfortable to actively distracting. She walked past the refectory entrance and smelled food—real food, protein synthesis and complex carbohydrates and fats her body was screaming for—and had to stop herself from going inside.

47 Starcoins for a meal.

Three meals a day would cost 141 Starcoins.

She couldn't afford it.

Hannah returned to Building 14 instead and ate a nutrition bar from the emergency supply she'd purchased her first year. The bars were technically expired, their nutrient profiles degraded past manufacturer specifications, but they were still calories. Still fuel.

The bar tasted like compressed dust and chemicals. Hannah ate it mechanically, washing down each bite with water.

200 calories. According to the degraded label, possibly less.

Her body needed approximately 2000 calories per day to maintain basic function. More if she was training or fighting. The nutrition bar gave her maybe 10% of what she needed.

Hannah pulled up her tablet and opened a spreadsheet she'd started that morning. A calculation of survival versus pride.

**DAILY EXPENSES:**

**Food (minimum): 141 SC**

**Water (currently free): 0 SC**

**Housing (currently free): 0 SC**

**Medical (basic): 15 SC/week = 2.14 SC/day**

**Emergency fund buffer: 50 SC/day**

**TOTAL DAILY MINIMUM: 193.14 SC**

**DAILY INCOME:**

**Research assistant: 50 SC/week = 7.14 SC/day**

**Current savings draw: 558 SC / 28 days = 19.93 SC/day**

**TOTAL DAILY INCOME: 27.07 SC**

**DAILY DEFICIT: -166.07 SC**

The deficit was unsustainable. She was spending 166 Starcoins more per day than she was earning. At this rate, her savings would last 3.4 days. After that, she'd have nothing.

Hannah adjusted the spreadsheet, removing food costs.

**DAILY EXPENSES (no food):**

**Food: 0 SC**

**Water (currently free): 0 SC**

**Housing (currently free): 0 SC**

**Medical (basic): 2.14 SC/day**

**Emergency fund buffer: 50 SC/day**

**TOTAL DAILY MINIMUM: 52.14 SC**

**DAILY DEFICIT: -25.07 SC**

Better, but still unsustainable. Her savings would last twenty-two days instead of three. That would get her close to the trial, but not close enough. And it assumed nothing unexpected happened. No emergency expenses. No sudden fees.

No actual trial preparation.

Hannah stared at the spreadsheet and understood what she'd been avoiding: she couldn't afford to survive and prepare for the trial. She could only choose one.

If she spent money on food, she'd starve financially.

If she didn't spend money on food, she'd starve physically.

Either way led to the same place—too weak to survive the SAT Trial, too broke to do anything about it.

Unless she sold things.

Hannah looked around her room in Building 14. Her possessions had already been reduced when she moved from the villa. Most of her tactical planning equipment was still locked in Team Daystar's systems. What remained were personal items, clothing, books, and the basic tools of student life.

She pulled up the campus resale network and started listing items.

**Advanced Tactical Theory, 3rd Edition** - pristine condition, full annotations. Market value: 200 SC. She listed it for 150 SC.

**Sovereign Combat Analysis software license** - six months remaining. Market value: 180 SC. She listed it for 120 SC.

**Academy formal uniform** - required for official events, barely worn. Market value: 300 SC. She listed it for 200 SC.

Hannah kept going through her possessions methodically. Textbooks she'd need for next semester. Software she'd purchased for research. Clothes that were more than strictly functional. Anything that wasn't absolutely essential went into the listing queue.

By 14:30, she'd listed twenty-three items with a combined asking price of 2,847 Starcoins.

Her tablet chimed with the first sale notification at 14:44. Someone had bought her tactical theory textbook for 150 Starcoins. The credit transfer was immediate.

Account balance: 708 SC.

Hannah felt something twist in her chest. That textbook had been a gift from Dr. Okonkwo during her first semester, given when Hannah had shown particular aptitude for strategic thinking. She'd filled the margins with notes and insights. Had referenced it constantly while building Team Daystar's tactical database.

Now it belonged to someone else. Someone who'd paid 75% of market value for a book Hannah had treasured.

Two more sales came through within the hour. Her combat analysis software went for 120 Starcoins. Her formal uniform sold for 180 Starcoins—20 less than she'd asked, but the buyer had negotiated and Hannah couldn't afford to refuse.

Account balance: 1,008 SC.

She had enough now to eat for a week. Maybe two if she was careful. But watching her possessions disappear into strangers' accounts felt like watching pieces of herself being sold off to delay the inevitable.

Another notification arrived at 16:22. Someone wanted to buy her complete set of formation analysis charts—physical prints she'd made during her time with Team Daystar, showing optimal positioning for different encounter types. They were offering 80 Starcoins.

Hannah stared at the message. Those charts represented hundreds of hours of work. She'd printed them because she learned better with physical references, had annotated them with real combat data from every dungeon run. They were uniquely hers, irreplaceable.

Worth 80 Starcoins to someone who saw them as study materials.

She accepted the sale.

By 18:00, Hannah had sold twelve items for a total of 1,647 Starcoins. Her account balance sat at 2,205 Starcoins—enough to survive for eleven days at minimal expenses, or enough to buy basic trial equipment if she kept starving herself.

She looked at the remaining eleven items still listed for sale. Books she'd loved. Clothes that fit properly. Tools she'd need if she survived the trial and continued as a student.

All of it for sale because she couldn't afford to eat and prepare simultaneously.

Hannah's stomach cramped again. She'd had the nutrition bar six hours ago. Her body wanted more food. Needed more food. The shaking in her hands had gotten worse, and she felt cold despite the room's regulated temperature.

She pulled up the refectory menu. Dinner service ran until 20:00. She could get a full meal for 47 Starcoins. Could stop the hunger and the shaking and the creeping weakness that made thinking feel harder than it should.

Her cursor hovered over the order button.

2,205 Starcoins in her account. 47 for one meal. That would leave 2,158. Still enough for ten days. Still enough to buy the basic water purification tablets and emergency rations she'd need for any trial environment.

Her stomach cramped so hard she gasped.

Hannah closed the refectory app without ordering.

She had another nutrition bar in her emergency supply. Expired by three months now, probably worth 150 calories if she was lucky. She ate it standing by the window, washing down each bite with water, trying not to think about the smell of real food drifting from the refectory across campus.

Her tablet chimed. Another sale. Someone bought her set of dungeon mapping notebooks for 65 Starcoins.

Account balance: 2,270 SC.

Hannah sat on her bed and pulled up the sales history. Twelve items sold. Each one representing something she'd valued, something she'd chosen, something that had made her life feel more complete.

All of it converted into credits that still weren't enough.

She thought about the predatory lenders from yesterday. Thought about Victor Durand offering 200,000 Starcoins with flexible collateral requirements. Thought about how easy it would be to accept one of those loans, to have enough credits to eat and prepare and not feel like she was choosing between her body and her future.

Thought about the cost of those loans, denominated in things worse than Starcoins.

Hannah closed the lender messages again.

Her tablet chimed with another notification. This one wasn't a sale—it was from the campus resale network's automated analysis system.

**SELLER PERFORMANCE ALERT**

**Your items are selling below optimal market rates. Consider adjusting your prices to maximize value. Items currently underpriced by average of 23%.**

Hannah stared at the notification. The system was telling her she was selling her possessions too cheaply. That she could get more credits if she was patient, if she held out for better offers.

But patience cost time she didn't have. Every day she waited was another day of interest accrual, another day closer to the trial, another day of hunger making her weaker.

She dismissed the notification and listed three more items. Her winter jacket—overpriced and unnecessary for someone living in climate-controlled buildings. Her backup tablet—functional but outdated. Her collection of strategic tournament recordings—valuable for study, but she'd already memorized most of the important matches.

Combined asking price: 430 SC.

Her winter jacket sold within twenty minutes for 180 SC.

Account balance: 2,450 SC.

Hannah did the math again. With 2,450 Starcoins and an income of 50 per week, she could survive for twelve days at minimal expenses. That left sixteen days before the trial with zero income and zero savings.

Unless she sold more.

She pulled up her possession inventory and highlighted everything except absolute essentials. Everything except the clothes she wore daily, the tablet she needed for classes, the basic toiletries required for hygiene.

Nineteen more items. Combined potential value: approximately 1,800 SC.

If she sold everything, she'd have 4,250 Starcoins total. Enough to survive until the trial with minimal nutrition. Not enough to actually prepare for it, but enough to reach the trial date alive.

Hannah's hands were shaking worse now. She pressed them flat against her thighs and tried to steady herself.

This was the calculation. This was what it meant to be a zero-rating student without team support. Every credit had to be chosen. Food versus preparation. Survival versus readiness. Pride versus desperation.

Her stomach cramped again, a sharp pain that made her curl forward.

She opened the refectory app again. Looked at the dinner menu. Looked at the 47-Starcoin price tag.

Looked at her account balance: 2,450 SC.

Looked at the countdown: **28 days, 5 hours, 30 minutes, 18 seconds.**

Hannah closed the app and ate her third nutrition bar of the day. 200 calories, maybe less. Enough to quiet her stomach for another few hours. Not enough to stop the weakness spreading through her limbs or the fog creeping into her thoughts.

By the time she went to bed at 23:00, she'd sold seventeen items for a combined total of 2,615 Starcoins.

Her account balance was 4,065 Starcoins.

Her room was nearly empty.

And her body was starting to understand what prolonged hunger felt like.

Hannah lay in bed and listened to her stomach protest. Felt the shakiness in her muscles. Noticed how the cold seemed to penetrate deeper than it should.

598 calories today. Less than 30% of what she needed.

The academy recommended students consume 2,400 calories daily during trial preparation periods to maintain peak performance.

Hannah was consuming 25% of that.

And she'd have to maintain this deficit for twenty-eight more days.

The countdown glowed in the darkness: **28 days, 1 hour, 00 minutes, 00 seconds.**

Twenty-eight days of choosing between eating and surviving.

Twenty-eight days of selling pieces of herself to delay the inevitable.

Twenty-eight days of learning that pride was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Hannah closed her eyes and tried to sleep while her body demanded food she wouldn't give it.

Tomorrow she'd skip breakfast again.

And lunch.

And dinner.

Tomorrow she'd sell more possessions and watch her life compress into an increasingly small space.

Tomorrow she'd be weaker, hungrier, and closer to the trial that required strength she was systematically destroying.

But she'd still be alive.

And that would have to be enough.