TUTORIAL TO BECOME A GREEN FLAG (BUGGED)

Chapter 4: Lunchbox Logistics

The notification hummed in the periphery of Aris’s vision, a glowing translucent blue box that had become the bane of his existence since the "System" had hijacked his life. It hovered mid-air, casting a faint, cerulean tint over his cramped kitchen counter.

[System Mission: Prepare a handmade bento to show care.]

[Reward: +50 Stamina, +10 Relationship Points with ‘Target: Elara’]

[Failure Penalty: Temporary loss of culinary privileges.]

Aris stared at the prompt, his brow furrowed in deep, tactical contemplation. Beside him, a stack of cookbooks sat gathering dust—tomes filled with complex recipes for teriyaki salmon, intricate vegetable carvings, and sticky rice art. Aris ignored them. He wasn't a chef; he was an efficiency expert, a man who viewed sustenance as fuel rather than art.

"Show care," Aris muttered, his voice raspy from a morning of intense training. "If the goal is care, then the priority is physiological optimization. What is the ultimate source of high-quality, bioavailable protein? What allows for the peak recovery of muscle tissue and sustained cognitive function?"

He didn't need to look up the answer. He had known it for years.

Eggs. Specifically, boiled eggs.

He turned to his refrigerator, pulling out a carton of thirty large, organic eggs. He lined up his pots, his movements clinical and precise. He treated the boiling process like a chemistry experiment, timing the water temperature to the exact second to ensure a soft-boiled yolk that wouldn't crumble during transport but would remain creamy enough to be palatable.

He didn't stop at ten. He didn't stop at twenty. By the time the final batch had cooled in an ice bath, Aris had a small mountain of perfect, orb-like proteins.

Now, the vessel. The mission brief explicitly stated "handmade bento." Aris reached under his sink and pulled out a relic from his college days—a massive, three-tiered metal tiffin box he’d once used for camping trips. It was industrial, heavy, and smelled faintly of old aluminum. It was the antithesis of a cute, aesthetic lunchbox, but it was sturdy, reliable, and—most importantly—large enough to house his protein-dense vision of "care."

He began the assembly.

Tier one: A bed of spinach leaves, laid flat to cushion the first dozen eggs. He arranged them in a concentric circle, each egg polished and gleaming under the harsh kitchen light. It looked like a topographical map of a very strange planet.

Tier two: He added a layer of shredded carrots for vitamin A and color contrast, then packed the second dozen eggs atop them. He paused, considering if he should add a dipping sauce. He decided on a small container of sea salt and pepper, taped securely to the underside of the lid. If Elara needed seasoning, she could add it herself; pre-seasoning risked moisture degradation of the eggshell membrane.

Tier three: This was the crowning achievement. The final six eggs were placed in the center, surrounded by a ring of protein-rich almonds. It was a fortress of nutrition, a metallic monument to the concept of "care" as Aris understood it.

He locked the tiers together with the side latches. The tiffin box let out a resounding clack-clack-clack, the sound of a seal being tightened for war.

The university cafeteria was a chaotic landscape of clattering trays and loud, overlapping conversations. Elara sat at a corner table, her laptop open, typing away at a thesis that clearly wasn't going to write itself. She looked tired, the dark circles under her eyes a testament to the three all-nighters she had pulled in a row.

Aris walked in, carrying the three-tiered metal cylinder like a bomb squad tech approaching a suspicious package. He didn't walk with the grace of a romantic lead; he walked with the focused intensity of a man carrying a classified payload.

He stopped at her table and cleared his throat.

Elara looked up, her expression shifting from irritation to profound confusion. "Aris? What... what is that?"

Aris placed the massive tiffin box on the table. It made a dull, heavy thud that caused the nearby soda cups to wobble. "Mission update," he stated flatly. "The system required me to prepare a handmade bento to show care for your well-being. I analyzed your recent schedule. You are experiencing a caloric deficit and inadequate protein intake, leading to elevated fatigue levels."

Elara blinked, her fingers hovering over her keyboard. "You brought me... a lunchbox?"

"I brought you fuel," Aris corrected. He reached for the side latches. Clack. Clack. Clack. He undid the tiers, revealing the shimmering, pale white surface of the first dozen eggs. "High-protein, moderate fat, zero processed sugars. Boiled to preserve the integrity of the amino acid profile."

The cafeteria went quiet. A few students nearby stopped mid-chew, staring at the sight of thirty eggs stacked like a precious hoard of treasure.

"Aris," Elara whispered, her voice a mix of bewilderment and something that might have been suppressed laughter. "Did you bring me thirty eggs?"

"Twenty-eight," he corrected, glancing at the tiers. "Two were cracked during the peeling process and were consumed for quality control. This is the optimal amount for a high-intensity study session."

Elara looked down at the stack. It was absurd. It was completely, utterly ridiculous. And yet, she looked at Aris—at the way he was watching her with such earnest, unblinking expectation, his face perfectly composed as if he had just performed a noble deed.

He hadn't bought her overpriced flowers that would die in two days. He hadn't brought her sugary chocolates that would cause a glucose crash. He had brought her the literal, physiological building blocks of life, encased in a camping tiffin he probably had to scour for an hour.

"You really... you really thought about my protein intake?" she asked, her voice softening.

"I thought about your recovery," Aris replied simply. "You cannot study if your body is failing you. Therefore, I care that your body does not fail."

A slow smile spread across Elara’s face. She reached out and picked up one of the eggs. It was still slightly warm. She tapped it against the edge of the metal box, the shell cracking perfectly.

"It’s certainly... a unique expression of care, Aris."

[System Notification: Mission ‘Prepare a handmade bento to show care’ completed.]

[Bonus: Target ‘Elara’ is genuinely amused. Relationship Points +20.]

Aris felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him. The System’s reward indicators chimed, but he barely noticed them. He was too busy watching Elara take a bite of the egg. She didn't look annoyed anymore. She looked less tired.

"Do you have salt?" she asked.

Aris reached into his pocket and produced the small, taped container he had prepared. "I anticipated that requirement."

As she dipped the egg and took another bite, Aris pulled out a chair and sat down opposite her. He didn't eat—he had already reached his daily protein macro limit—but he watched her with a calm, steady gaze.

"If you require more," he said, "I have the thermal settings for the water down to a science. I can optimize the yolk texture for tomorrow’s session as well."

Elara laughed—a genuine, bright sound that cut through the mundane drone of the cafeteria. "Tomorrow, Aris? Maybe we can work in a vegetable? Just one?"

Aris considered this, his mind instantly running through the logistical requirements of packing raw broccoli versus steamed asparagus. "I will add it to the research phase for tomorrow's bento."

He sat there, the giant metal box of eggs between them, a bizarre, metallic heart beating in the middle of a crowded cafeteria. It wasn't the romantic gesture of a novelist's hero, and it wasn't the delicate offering of a traditional bento maker. It was Aris—precise, efficient, and, in his own strange way, deeply, obsessively caring.

Elara continued to eat, one egg at a time, and for the first time in weeks, the weight of her thesis didn't seem quite so heavy. The System had demanded care, and Aris had provided it in the only way he knew how: with total, unflinching commitment.

The notification faded, replaced by a new, blinking prompt.

[System Mission: Ensure the Target maintains energy levels for 24 hours. Reward: 100 System Credits.]

Aris nodded to himself.

"Eat," he instructed, pointing at the second tier. "We have a long afternoon ahead."