Wohard’s tearing and biting at the pork knuckle echoed throughout the Dining Hall, the oil running down his lips, the sound of meat and bone coming apart crisp and clear.
He was so absorbed in eating, he completely failed to notice the fleeting change in the eyes of the silver-haired Elf girl across from him.
This dumb mutt, his table manners are just awful.
That was what Sovinia thought, yet strangely, rather than feeling disgusted by the sound, she found the food in her own bowl even more appetizing.
She picked up a large bundle of wheat noodles with her chopsticks, stirring them in her bowl so that every strand became coated with the “braised flavor.”
The glistening chunks of meat rose and fell along with the noodles as she mixed.
She brought the whole mouthful to her lips, then ate another piece of braised pork as a “side dish.” The noodles were chewy, the meat tender and falling apart, the sauce rich and salty—together, they erupted across her tongue.
Amid the sound of the dumb mutt chewing greedily, she quickly finished all the wheat noodles and braised pork in her bowl.
These foods had once been only a diversion, but now, as they entered her stomach, she could feel the weakness and exhaustion in her frail body swiftly fading away. A current of warmth rose from her abdomen and spread to her limbs.
Along with it came a certain desire—one that did not stem from the Strength of Demonkind, but from something far older.
That desire sharpened her taste buds. She lifted the bowl and downed the noodle broth, seasoned only with salt. Even the plain soup now tasted incredibly sweet and mellow.
This feeling…
She set down the bowl, her golden eyes briefly unfocused. Back when she was Kimi the Coldhearted, she had cooked in this Kitchen, but that was merely to kill boredom. She’d even forgotten why she had such a hobby.
For her, food was just flavor—it offered no energy. Slaughter and combat were her nourishment.
But now it was different. This frail Elf girl’s body, its pure craving for food, had awakened her hazy memories of the past.
It came from long, long ago, so long ago that she was still a Human Slave struggling to survive in the Mine.
She remembered now.
Why, after becoming the First Heavenly King, she stubbornly kept a Kitchen in the Dining Hall to prepare Human food.
At the time, this caused quite a stir. Many of the Demon Race thought it was a bizarre quirk of the First Heavenly King.
So that’s how it was.
At that time, she had just received the Four Gods’ Blessing, transforming from an ordinary person into a powerful member of the Demon Race. Her body ascended, her soul sublimated—she no longer needed to eat, only slaughter and battle.
But the new power brought terror as well.
That Kitchen was an anchor she kept to hold onto her last thread of “humanity”—a tiny memorial to the weak self who once knew hunger and fatigue.
Hmph, how laughable. My past self must have been such a coward, probably even crying secretly somewhere, just like a soft Human.
Thinking that, Sovinia glanced at the Hero Wohard, who was still wolfing down his food. His eyes were a bit red, as if he’d been crying.
Who would have thought, this feeble habit actually proved useful today. It won me the right to poison the food.
***
After eating, Sovinia put down her bowl. She raised her head, still unsatisfied, wanting to eat a bit more “Soft Rice” or perhaps some “Dog Food.”
Her gaze swept across the table, only to find it already empty.
Wohard, the great Human Hero, was holding a pair of chopsticks, picking up the last bundle of wheat noodles, meticulously wiping the inside of the large earthenware pot that had held the stewed pork knuckle, scrubbing it clean as if it had been washed.
Every last drop of sauce on the inner wall of the pot was soaked up by the noodles. He stuffed this final bite into his mouth, a look of deep satisfaction spreading across his face.
On the other side of the table lay a massive bone, gnawed completely clean, with clear tooth marks remaining—all the cartilage had been chewed off.
Sovinia was stunned.
That pork knuckle had to weigh at least four or five catties, and this dumb mutt finished it so quickly? He didn’t even spare the bone.
After swallowing the last mouthful, Wohard seemed to sense her gaze. He looked up, his lips slick with grease. Scratching his damp blond hair a bit sheepishly, he said,
“Uh… well, it was just too delicious. I lost track for a moment… Sorry, I should have saved you some.”
Who wants to eat Soft Rice? Only a dumb mutt likes Dog Food!
“Who said I wanted any?” she lifted her chin. “Elves don’t care for greasy meat. Vegetables are my favorite.”
To prove her point, she reached out with her chopsticks and picked up some stir-fried vegetables from the plate, slowly chewing them.
The vegetables were crisp, with a light salty garlic flavor. Yet in her mind, she couldn’t stop picturing that dumb mutt from before, biting hungrily into the pork knuckle.
She was eating bland vegetables, but all she could think about was the tender pork skin and melting meat.
***
With the meal over, the Dining Hall fell into a brief silence. The warmth from the food had banished much of their fatigue, but now another long-ignored problem surfaced.
Wohard’s gaze passed over the table and landed on the curled-up figure in the corner of the Dining Hall. Helana VII’s corpse lay there, twisted, looking like a discarded, battered doll in the dim light.
He got up and walked over to the body, remarking,
“We’re here eating and resting… It doesn’t feel right to just leave her lying there. At the very least, we should let her rest in peace.”
He looked around, then pulled a relatively clean piece of black velvet from a cabinet, gently draping it over Helana VII’s face. His hand paused for a moment as he touched the corpse.
“Hm? Wait… she… she’s Human?” He turned around, surprise filling his emerald eyes. “In this Demon Castle? Miss Sovinia, do you know her?”
Sovinia, sitting on the chair, stopped swinging her legs. Her gaze fell upon the body as she replied calmly.
“I know her. Her name is Helana VII.”
“Helana VII… A Human maid living in the First Heavenly King’s Dining Hall? That’s unusual.”
Sovinia spoke as if it were a matter unrelated to herself: “She was Kimi the Coldhearted’s servant—a close one. With that person backing her, it’s only natural she survived.”
“So why did she die? Wasn’t Kimi her protector?”
She blurted out, “Who else could it be? Of course, it was Kimi the Coldhearted who did it.”
“How do you know?”
Sovinia’s heart skipped a beat. Damn, I let it slip again.
A familiar panic rushed up, but after several close calls today, she was growing numb to it. Her mind raced, trying to fabricate a plausible lie.
But as with so many crises today, her mind went utterly blank.
Maybe she should just reach out and touch his hand, but if she suddenly grabbed Wohard’s hand, he’d definitely suspect something.
Thus, Sovinia was stuck, her brain frozen, unable to advance or retreat.
She just sat there, expressionless, looking at Wohard. On that delicate face, no emotion could be seen; her golden eyes were as still as two calm lakes.
Wohard looked back at her, feeling certain Sovinia was quietly scorning him. He thought for a moment.
A thought suddenly popped into his mind, and everything became clear.
He let out an enlightened sigh, shaking his head as if mocking his own stupidity.
“Ah… I see. I really am an idiot.” As he spoke, he fetched some rope and cloth, carefully wrapping up Helana VII’s corpse. “The Dining Hall door was locked. Other than the owner himself, who else could enter and twist an old woman’s neck so cruelly? There’s really no need to even ask.”
Sovinia secretly let out a long sigh of relief. This dumb mutt… really is just that dumb.
Wohard finished wrapping the corpse and moved it to a less conspicuous corner. After he was done, he dusted his hands and turned around, his face showing unconcealed disgust and contempt.
“That Kimi fellow is a complete scoundrel—he didn’t even spare the old servant who’d served him for years.” He paused, frowning. “But really, why did he keep a Human around? Don’t the Demon Race look down on Humans more than anything?”
***
Sovinia was curious—how did Wohard see her?
Now was a good chance.
She gathered her thoughts, preparing to tell a story. A story about how Kimi the Coldhearted, once a lowly slave in the Mines, clawed his way up to the very peak of power in the Demon Castle.
“You really want to know?” Her voice was soft. “As it happens, I know it all. When I… when I was imprisoned, I overheard the Demon Race guards talking about him.”
Wohard pulled up a chair and sat down, leaning forward, his emerald eyes fixed on her, signaling her to go on.
Sovinia cleared her throat and began to tell the story that belonged to herself—to Kimi the Coldhearted.
“They say… Kimi was not born a member of the Demon Race.”