One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.
Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own:
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"Okay, but you didn't make it either," he pointed out.
"I gave the orders," she said with a shrug. "Leadership is a skill."
The kitchen gave a low, satisfied hum, as if to say, Finally, someone with sense.
T_T
(￣ー￣)
(凸ಠ益ಠ)凸
"What are you doing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nothing," he muttered under his breath, shoveling pancakes into his mouth with an exaggerated air of innocence.
She caught his antics but chose to ignore them, focusing entirely on her meal.
After everything she'd been through, no one could blame her for taking a moment to enjoy something so simple.
As the food disappeared from her plate, the weight of why she was here began to fade into the background.
She wasn't supposed to be indulging—she was supposed to be asking questions. Important ones.
And yet, she couldn't bring herself to care.
The sensation of eating something warm and genuinely delicious was utterly overwhelming.
It wasn't just food; it was comfort. Safety. It felt like the first time in her life she'd tasted something so satisfying.
The boy watched her, raising an eyebrow as he took another bite of his pancake.
Then, clearing his throat, he tried to grab her attention. "So," he said pointedly.
She didn't even glance at him.
Completely entranced by her meal, she ignored him altogether.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair, watching her as she savored every bite.
For her, this moment must have felt like pure bliss—a fleeting reprieve from the chaos of her existence.
Taking another bite of his pancake, he wondered just how long it would take for her to snap out of it.
But he didn't wait.
"Hello?" No reply.
"Meow?" Still no reply.
"Hulo?" Nothing.
"Mosquito bites." That did it.
She stirred at that, her eyes finally lifting to meet his, and shot him a small, annoyed glare.
On his face, however, was a smug smile. "Finally. Do you know how many times I called you?"
"And?" she said flatly.
"What do you mean, and?"
"Fuck you."
"Fuck you!"
"Fuck you for calling me mosquito bites."
"Hey, it's not my fault you were ignoring me," he replied, holding up his hands in mock innocence.
"Still, fuck you."
"And you're still a shameless woman."
o_O
O_o
He smirked but quickly shifted gears, not missing a beat. "So tell me," he asked casually, as if their earlier spat was nothing more than playful banter, "does the kitchen, can always do that?"
This time, she actually replied.
Taking another spoonful of porridge, she said simply, "Yep."
No further explanation.
"Why?"
"Because why not," she answered, her attention drifting back to her porridge like it was the most fascinating thing in the room.
The boy stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. 'Woman, at least explain a little!'
An awkward silence hung in the air after that.
The boy, however, didn't care. Awkwardness wasn't something he felt.
So, without a hint of hesitation, he asked, "You know, you should've told me you had a contract with an Elder God."
Her head snapped up, eyes wide with shock. "It was not a contract."
"It wasn't?"
"Nope."
"Then what was it?"
"He... took advantage of me when I was wounded." Her voice dropped, quieter now, laced with bitterness she tried to mask by shoving another spoonful of food into her mouth.
"Is that so?"
"That is so."
She looked back down at her bowl, deliberately avoiding his gaze.
After a beat, she fired back her own question. "Also, what is an Elder God?"
The boy raised an eyebrow mid-bite. "You don't know?"
"I don't know."
"Eldritch entities," he said, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather. "They live on the dark side of the universe… or in dying universes, places where light goes to die."
"So… an evil god?"
He snorted, finishing off another pancake. Only two remained on his plate. "Nah. Much worse."
She frowned.
"Tell me, what's worse than evil?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. "Actually, let's take a step back. Start by telling me—what is evil to you?"
"People who do bad shit, I guess?"
He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Not entirely wrong. But not entirely right, either."
"So what's your take, oh wise one?" Her tone dripped with sarcasm, but she couldn't hide the fact she was curious.
"Evil depends on perspective. What's evil to one person might just be survival to another. Explaining it in black-and-white terms? That's just dumb."
"Are you calling me dumb?" Her eyes narrowed as she set her spoon down with a deliberate clink.
He held her glare for a moment before shrugging, cutting into another pancake. "Nah. You're too stupid to even realize I just called you stupid."
Her mouth fell open. "You're stupid!"
Now she was fuming, and it wasn't just about the insult.
Deep down, his words reminded her of what she didn't know—the gaps in her understanding of the world, the kind of knowledge noble brats were handed without effort, simply because they could afford it.
"Tell me, can you feel any changes in your body?" he asked casually, his eyes fixed on the last pancake on his plate.
The girl furrowed her brows, puzzled. Changes? Why would she feel any different now?
Sure, the whispers were gone, and her connection to the land was severed, but that didn't mean her body should feel strange.
Wait.
She paused, letting the thought settle. There was something. A lightness—like a weight she hadn't realized she was carrying had been lifted.
She felt... free. But wasn't that how she was always feeling?
"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously, hoping he could explain.
He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips quirking up in amusement. "Seriously, you don't know?"
She shrugged, still unsure where he was going with this.
"You know that Elder God I mentioned earylioooor—" His words turned into a garbled mess as he stuffed a bite of pancake into his mouth mid-sentence.
"At least swallow before you speak," she said, her voice dripping with exasperation.
An audible gulp followed. He smirked before continuing. "The Elder God took pieces of your soul and fused them with its corruption."
"Pieces of my soul?" Her head tilted slightly, her confusion deepening as she stared at him like he'd suddenly sprouted a second head.
Cute, he thought involuntarily, his mind betraying him. Why does she look like a doll when she does that? Of course, he'd never say it out loud—they weren't that close.
Instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with deliberate nonchalance. "Seriously? You don't know how souls work? What are you, a kid?"
Her temple twitched, irritation bubbling just below the surface, though she managed to hold her composure. "I know what a soul is. What I don't understand is this 'pieces of the soul' nonsense."
"I see," he said, completely unbothered by her rising annoyance.
He popped the last bite of his pancake into his mouth, chewing slowly, as though savoring her irritation. Finally, he let out an infuriatingly satisfied sigh, ending his breakfast with smug finality.
"How do I explain this?" he muttered to himself, picking up a pancake from the tray in front of him.
"You see this pancake?" he began, holding it up for her to see. "Now, watch closely."
With a flick of his fingers, the pancake floated into the air, suspended by his telekinesis. Then, with quick, deliberate movements, he poked holes into it using his fingers.
"See these holes? This was your condition when you woke up on the bed," he explained. "When you were screaming your lungs out. Remember that?"
"And?" she prompted, her expression unimpressed but curious.
"And," he continued matter-of-factly, "that was the Elder God leaving your body."
Before she could respond, he gestured toward the pancake, and with a single thought, the holes began to fill with white porridge—the same one she was eating.
"This," he said, pointing to the now-filled pancake, "is what I found when we first met in that field."
Her gaze flicked from the pancake to him. "I remember that. But..."
"But what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I may have had some sort of 'contract,' but I never allowed it to take my soul," she said firmly, despite her exhaustion.
"Well," he replied with a smirk, "you never know with these kinds of entities. There's always a catch."
Her eyes narrowed as she processed his words. "I see. But you also said the entity left the holes."
"Good catch," he said with a grin, casually tossing a small piece of pancake toward her.
Her reflexes kicked in, and she instinctively caught it in her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, her expression shifting from surprise to approval.
"It's... good," she admitted.
"Of course it is," he said, smirking. "Your kitchen's a damn good cook."
As if on cue, a soft, contented hum resonated through the room, as though the kitchen itself was expressing its satisfaction.
"Because I expelled it from your soul," he replied casually.
"You did?" she asked, incredulous.
"I did," he confirmed, his tone unwavering.
"Why?"
"Because I can." There was a quiet confidence in his voice.
"But... shouldn't I have died if the entity left holes in my soul?" She sounded doubtful, her disbelief clear.
"Because I filled those holes before you died. Remember the second time you screamed? That's when you felt it."
"I see," she murmured, her mind processing what he had just said. The information was new, foreign even.
"There's also something else," he added, pulling her from her thoughts.
"What is it?" She asked, instinctively curious.
"How about I show you?" he said with a slight grin. "But before that, finish your breakfast."
He grabbed a strange-looking fruit from the table and popped it into his mouth. 'It's delicious.'
"And, also, one more thing?"
"What is it?" she asked, now fully attentive.
"You need to change clothes."
"Clothes?"
As if on cue, she glanced down and realized she was still in her nightdress—basically lingerie.
Her eyes widened as she looked up at him.
He, too, glanced back at her, his expression nonchalant.
"They're... average, after all," he remarked teasingly.
And then, there was a scream.
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