The kitchen, having been cleansed by both fire and water, was now filled with a completely different, mouth-watering aroma. After more than two hours of Monet's hard work, the once messy stove was tidy again. Plates of colorful, fragrant, and delicious-looking dishes were placed on the huge dining table, which was large enough to seat a dozen people.
Golden crispy roasted chicken, juicy thick-cut steak, creamy baked lobster garnished with green herbs... every dish was as exquisite as a work of art, creating a stark and tragic contrast to the "thing" Takero had created earlier. However, he didn't feel the least bit embarrassed. Instead, he praised her sincerely. "I didn't expect this. You're young, but your cooking skills are quite good. Impressive."
Monet was startled, not expecting praise for simply doing her duty. She quickly responded, "Thank you for the compliment, Master!"
Takero didn't say anything else. He was already eagerly seated at the head of the table, his eyes gleaming like a hunter who had spotted his prey as he looked at the feast before him. He unceremoniously grabbed a huge roasted chicken leg, almost as long as his forearm, and took a big bite. The meat was tender, the skin was crispy, and the rich juices burst in his mouth, mixing with the fragrance of spices and instantly conquering his taste buds.
"Mmm... delicious!" he mumbled another compliment, then transformed into an efficient food shredder, devouring the delicacies before him like a whirlwind.
Monet and Sugar stood cautiously to the side, watching Takero feast and unconsciously swallowing their own saliva. Stimulated by the aroma of the food, their stomachs, which hadn't had a proper meal in days, rumbled loudly.
During a brief pause in his chewing, Takero looked up and scanned them with his pure black eyes. "Why are you just standing there?" he asked curiously. "You can't get full by watching. Sit down and eat with me." His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he were stating the most normal thing in the world.
"Eh? Can I... can we join you?" Monet's face showed incredible surprise at his words.
Strictly speaking, she and her sister were now the "trophies"—or rather, slaves—of this mysterious young man. Even if he hadn't said it out loud, their fate had been tied to him the moment they were rescued from Gollier's hellish prison. How could slaves dare to sit at the same table and eat with their master before being told? This was an unshakeable rule for survival that she had learned from tragic stories told on the streets.
However, as she looked into Takero's clear eyes, which held no hint of mockery or testing, she hesitated. He really didn't seem to be joking.
"Stop dawdling, the food's going to get cold," Takero urged impatiently as he tore off another large piece of steak and stuffed it into his mouth.
In the end, hunger won out over caution. The sisters cautiously sat down at the far end of the dining table, their movements as timid as two small quails that had wandered into a banquet hall. A strange and complex feeling welled up in Monet's heart. She secretly observed the young man who was focused only on eating, her mind filled with confusion.
This new "Master" seemed different from all the other powerful figures she had known. He had no condescending arrogance, no manipulative schemes, and certainly none of the cruelty that treated human lives as worthless. He was powerful, direct, and even a little... simple. These contradictory traits made it impossible for her to figure him out.
Takero paid no attention to her swirling thoughts. He simply waved his hand, mumbled, "Help yourselves," and went back to his battle with the food. For him, eating, like fighting, was a sacred activity that required complete dedication.
Her sister's silent permission was like a switch being flipped for Sugar. Her big, watery eyes had long been fixed on the delicious food, and her stomach's rebellious grumbles grew louder. She looked at Monet with pleading eyes and whispered with a hint of longing, "Sister..."
Monet's heart softened as she looked at her sister's pitiful appearance, and she gave a gentle nod. With permission granted, Sugar became like a happy little squirrel. She picked up her knife and fork, carefully cut a small piece of a vegetable, and began to chew it slowly. For a moment, the only sounds in the spacious dining room were the soft clinking of silverware and... Takero's chewing, which sounded like a passing storm.
After eating for a while, Monet finally couldn't suppress her urge to start planning for their future. She put down her knife and fork, gathered her thoughts, and spoke in a tone that was as respectful and sincere as she could manage.
"Thank you again for saving us, Master," she said with a slight bow. "Although I've said it before, please allow me to formally introduce my sister and myself. My name is Monet, and this is my sister, Sugar."
Takero grunted in response, but his head remained down, his gaze fixed on a sizzling hot plate of grilled meat.
Monet was not discouraged. She knew that to gain trust, she first had to demonstrate her "value" and "honesty." She took a deep breath and began to tell a carefully embellished version of her past.
"About a year ago, our parents died in an accidental shipwreck. We had no other relatives in the world, so... we became orphans. To survive, Sugar and I could only wander between towns, living off... off the kindness of others and some small tricks. Until a few days ago, we were captured for no reason by that villain named Gollier and became his slaves."
As she spoke, Monet's eyes involuntarily darted away, a hint of guilt flashing through them. Her so-called "making a living" was actually far more complex than she described. They had used her cute appearance to gain sympathy, "borrowed" wallets from the pockets of wealthy merchants, and even set up harmless little scams. The two sisters were like wild cats struggling to survive in the jungle, having learned all sorts of tricks to stay alive.
And the reason they were caught by Gollier wasn't random at all. It was because of her boldest move yet—an attempt to sneak into his villa to steal jewelry, which had unfortunately failed, leading to their capture.
Monet skillfully omitted these details. She had to project an image of being clever and capable, yet sufficiently "harmless" in front of her new master. She had already made up her mind to cling to this powerful figure at all costs.
Having experienced the despair of that prison, she realized more clearly than ever that in this dog-eat-dog world, the two of them alone were not strong enough to survive. Relying on a powerful person was their only way out. And Takero, this mysterious young man who had descended like a god, effortlessly tearing apart steel and seemingly unafraid of the Marines, was undoubtedly the most perfect protector she could ever imagine.
The grace of him saving their lives, coupled with his unfathomable strength, made him an excellent person to invest her future in.
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