Chapter 14: The Good Times Seem to Be Over

The scene inside the refrigerator made her pupils contract.

Was the temperature just for show? Why were the chunks of meat in the fridge still squirming?

To be this lively even when frozen… if they weren’t frozen… Milly finally understood how Stacy had created that pile of abominations. The problem started at the source—the ingredients themselves.

And how was it that, despite the burnt smell from the pot, the food Stacy served was still alive? Was it the ingredients’ incredible life force, or was Stacy some kind of conceptual god who could only ever create living things, no matter what she cooked?

She closed the cabinet door. Besides the meat, there were no other ingredients in the fridge. If it had been normal meat, Milly might have tried cooking it herself, but these things were still moving. The thought of putting a writhing piece of meat in her mouth… ugh, better not.

No normal ingredients in the fridge, but after rummaging around, she found some vegetables. Among a host of bizarre produce, Milly found what looked like tomatoes and lettuce. At least they looked normal. They should be safe to eat, right?

With side dishes found, she just needed a main course. Milly wasn’t asking for much—a few slices of bread or a bit of rice would do. In the last compartment of the top shelf, Milly found a brownish tuber that might have been bread.

“Is this really bread?” Milly poked the unmoving, hard block with a silver fork. It was more like a brick than bread. It wouldn’t taste good, but it would be perfect for cracking Stacy’s head open.

She tried tapping the “bread” on the table. It was even harder than she thought, reminding her of the five-nut mooncakes the school used to give out during the Mid-Autumn Festival. They made the same sound when tapped on the table.

But it was probably closer to a hard, dense dalieba bread, though Milly had only ever eaten mooncakes. Maybe if she steamed it, it would soften enough to be edible.

She found a relatively clean pot to use as a steamer and placed the bread on a cutting board. It was still too hard. Milly had to grip the knife with both hands and slam it down, the impact jarring her hands, just to cut a few slices.

In the rising steam, the bread slices gradually puffed up into a spongy texture. About five minutes later, she quickly placed the sliced lettuce and tomato between the bread slices, her trembling fingers stacking the sandwich into a precarious tower that looked like it could collapse at any moment.

When she was done, she returned to the dining table. Still no sound from the bedroom. Milly cautiously stuffed the sandwich into her mouth.

Stacy really was a heavy sleeper. That much noise and she… this tastes awful.

She knew it was bread, but anyone else would have thought she was chewing on tree bark. No, tree bark would taste better. But compared to what Stacy had made last night, at least it was edible.

Thankfully, only the bread was terrible. The tomatoes and lettuce tasted just as she remembered. So there was normal food here.

As she chewed, a voice as cold as shattering ice crystals came from behind her.

“Morning spot-check. What’s the first thing you should say when you wake up?”

The corresponding characters flashed in Milly’s mind. She whipped her head around. Stacy’s silver hair was still damp with morning dew, the straps of her nightgown had slipped down to her elbows, revealing a crimson mark on her collarbone that looked suspiciously like a bite mark.

“Master…” Milly’s lips moved, breadcrumbs falling from them. She remembered the first word, it was practically etched into her bones, but the word for “good morning”… she had completely forgotten.

A sense of dread washed over her. Milly frantically shoved the rest of the sandwich into her mouth, the dry, hard breadcrumbs scraping her throat. Her cheeks puffed out as she met Stacy’s gaze. She saw Stacy’s eyelashes flutter, her dark red pupils dancing with the pleasure of a cat toying with a mouse.

Her body went light, the world flipped upside down, and the thorny vines from the ceiling hoisted her up again.

The sudden inversion was too much. She couldn’t hold it in. With a retch, she spat out everything in her mouth. Although it didn’t land on Stacy, a dangerous smile curled on the woman’s lips.

This was bad.

But Milly had something to say. It was so sudden, she just couldn’t remember for a moment. Was it really necessary to hang her up first thing in the morning?

She didn’t know what Stacy was planning to do next, so she tried to take another bite… where was the bread?

The sandwich she had been holding was gone. She looked down. A tentacle had snatched the remaining sandwich and, in front of Milly, Stacy elegantly took a bite, her delicate brow furrowing. “Little Milly, what you made is a bit tasteless.”

No kidding. Did you see what that bread was made of? Was that normal bread? Of course it’s tasteless. If you think it’s so bad, then give me some normal food.

But her inner complaints remained unspoken. Stacy wouldn’t understand anyway, and if her tone was off, who knew what that woman would do to her.

She couldn’t protest. She didn’t know if Stacy was doing it on purpose, but despite saying it was tasteless, she ate the entire sandwich, bit by bit. Milly could only watch as her rations disappeared between those rose-colored lips. Her stomach let out a mournful cry that echoed in the empty room.

Stacy suddenly narrowed her eyes and lowered the hanging Milly a little. “Hunger affects learning efficiency. How about this.”

Stacy went to the kitchen and quickly returned with a silver platter that had been hidden somewhere. Milly hadn’t found it during her search. If she had known Stacy had another one, she would have found it and thrown it all away.

When the silver lid was lifted, the stench of burnt, disgusting meat filled the air. Milly closed her eyes, not daring to look at the pile of… something. She had just gone through this last night. Why did she have to go through it again today?

But closing her eyes didn’t make it disappear. A wave of hot air forced her to look. Familiar, burning words floated in the air, each character glowing with the same rainbow light as the roasted steak. Milly’s pupils contracted in revulsion, and a whimpering sound escaped her throat.

When she mispronounced the third word, the burning letters vanished. A tentacle wrapped around a still-growing eyeball-mushroom and brought it to Milly’s lips, her voice leaving no room for refusal.

“Open your mouth.”

A cold tentacle pried open her jaw. The mushroom’s tendrils exploded on her tongue, and a wave of revulsion wracked her body.

The check was complete. Stacy dipped a tentacle tip into the charred, thick soup and wrote the new words for today’s lesson on the dining table.

By noon, when she was finally let down, Milly was collapsed on the soft cushion of the high-backed chair. She couldn’t remember how much she had been forced to swallow. Her tortured stomach was playing a final requiem. It had been through so much with her. She hoped it would find a better body in its next life.

Compared to today, yesterday’s punishment of writing on her body seemed like a reward. She turned her head. Stacy was gone again, probably in the kitchen, experimenting with a new recipe.

Looking towards the kitchen, a sense of despair filled Milly’s eyes. When would this kind of life ever end?

Soon, in a daily cycle of lessons and punishments, and being forced to warm the bed at night, Milly survived for another four days…