Famine 170: The Reason

What followed was… a whirlwind of voracious feasting.

“Aaah… it’s so delicious…” The girl cupped her cheeks, her voice floating into the clouds. “This egg tart is just divine… mmm!”

Crunch. The egg tart had been freshly baked; the texture was second to none—the skill of the pastry chef beyond reproach. With every crisp, buttery bite, the flaky crust shattered between her lips and teeth, enfolding the steaming custard filling that sent sweetness straight to the core. It was so hot from the oven she kept gasping, but bite followed bite—she simply couldn’t stop.

The cocoa crisp tart was drenched in rich chocolate, with an added toasty grain aroma; melded with the egg tart, the flavors could utterly enchant the senses.

All these desserts came from the farm’s second kitchen, located along the southern edge of Imaginary Town—a necessary stop for all who passed through. Specializing in bread, pies, and other sugar-rich, high-calorie portable fare, its desserts had gradually become a trademark. The head chef, Mattia, was an Italian who’d been a professional cook even before the apocalypse. Seven years into the end times, it was a gift to have preserved such talent, and Si Zhiyan had quickly placed him in a position of trust.

The only issue with the second kitchen was that the sweets tended to be rather heavy on the sugar. But the flavors were rich, and to everyone’s surprise, they proved wildly popular.

After seven years of famine and apocalypse, everyone’s eating habits had shifted. People generally preferred oily, sugary foods; meat prices favored fatty cuts, and everyone craved foods that brought an intense sense of satisfaction. So, it was all for the best.

“As long as you’re enjoying it.”
Si Zhiyan himself wasn’t accustomed to such sweetness, but he smiled, sipping tea and watching as the girl devoured one bite after another.

It was remarkable—someone could wear such enormous sleeves and a massive skirt, stay perfectly poised, and eat so fast… not a crumb spilled despite the voracious speed. That in itself was a skill—truly impressive.

Lost in thought, Si Zhiyan took another sip of oolong.

In such a sweet afternoon tea, he most loved the tea itself. Paired with sugary pastries, a well-brewed tea cut through the heaviness, refreshing the palate—impossible to resist.

The monocled butler had long since put away his lightning whip, white cloth draped over his arm, standing neatly at attention with a cohort of maids and footmen.

Though a moment ago he’d been strict with his “please endure” and “compensate me 2N+1,” his gaze now resting on the young lady was immensely gentle—not that of a servant to master, but more like a fond older brother to his sister. His eyes toward Si Zhiyan held a respectful gratitude as well.

Watching the girl lose herself in eating, Si Zhiyan signaled Bian Xu with a glance.

Bian Xu, about to take a sip of tea, instantly caught the cue. He pressed down his trembling fingertips, took a deep breath, and restored himself to calm.

He rose, wore a sincere smile, and politely led the butler aside, pulling out a cloth bundle and handing it over:

“It’s getting late—you all haven’t had dinner, have you?”
“This is a small gift from the farm owner, just a token—some meals our staff usually have: tomato and egg stir fry, spicy pork rice bowls, beef pies… nothing fancy, just our regards. You’ve worked hard; do try some when you get a chance.”

Bian Xu’s words were humble, but everyone present knew that each and every dish in that bundle, taken outside, would be worth its weight in gold.

The butler smiled with a bow, though his gaze drifted to the young lady.

Though clearly too far to hear any conversation, the girl looked up from afar, cheeks stuffed, the fruit tart bulging, yet she still managed to wave at the butler, beaming a muffled—”Thanks!”

“…Thank you.”

Only then did the butler return the thanks to Bian Xu, accepting the package and passing it to a blonde maid nearby.

Bian Xu’s smile was flawless—he gave a small, satisfied “Oh!” in their mental link.

Returning to his seat, he said to Si Zhiyan: This young lady’s impressive.

Now that Bian Xu could act independently, their mental link still remained seamlessly intact. It was indeed very convenient.

How so? Si Zhiyan asked with a polite sip of tea.

Bian Xu explained: For ordinary followers to suddenly receive such tempting gifts, most would be flattered, unlikely to refuse—at best, they might ask their leader, but their eyes would betray their desire.
But you see—even though everyone here has starved for seven years, neither the butler nor the maids ever even glance at the food until the lady herself gives approval.

He may taunt in words, but in reality, everyone here is entirely obedient to the young lady.

…Is that so, Si Zhiyan thought, mildly fascinated.
Modern folk have little natural servility. While it looks as if all follow a leader, every small figure harbors their own selfish aims. No matter how heroic the leader, maintaining unity is a never-ending challenge in any collective.

Si Zhiyan raised his lashes, gazing at the pink-skirted maiden with cheeks full and face glowing in bliss.

She looked innocent enough, but her real authority over this enclave was probably above Commander Nie’s.

Not a simple character.

Si Zhiyan’s menu had been carefully chosen—filled with the girl’s favorite sweets, and enough savory carbs to pass for a meal.

When at last she slumped, belly round, and sated in her chair, dusk was already drifting in.

“Mmph… So good. So, so delicious. This—Hehe, thank you, um… Mr. Si?”

“How should I address you?”

“Ah,” the girl gasped, covering her lips, “that was rude…”

She straightened her dress, stood up, and delicately cleared her throat, reaching toward the butler.

He smiled, bowed even deeper, and gently took her hand gloved in white silk. The young lady walked forward gracefully, their joined hands shining pale and dark as they paused before the castle gates, turned in unison, and smiled at Si Zhiyan and Bian Xu.

“My name is Alice. I’m the lord of Hephaestus Castle. This is Yu Yao, my butler.”

Dong—dong—

At that moment, the castle’s clock chimed the hour. Windows in the fairytale towers swung open; white doves beat their wings, and bright balloons drifted up into the sky.

Lady Alice smiled, lifted her skirt, and curtsied—

“In any case… Welcome to Hephaestus Castle, honored guests.”

“Guests bearing candy and fine food are always welcome.”

……
…

It was getting late.

Having led them into the castle, Alice soon hopped away. Yu Yao apologized with a smile: Lady Alice did not see visitors after dinner, but if there were things to discuss, tomorrow would do. Yu Yao arranged for two guest rooms and invited them to stay overnight.

Si Zhiyan nodded, stowing back into his pack the “knock-on-the-door” gift he’d prepared.

It was a gem discovered after upgrading the mines to LV2; he was confident Alice would be interested.

Because, rather than a true gemstone, it was…
…a living thing.

But that would be for tomorrow.

As Yu Yao departed, Bian Xu stretched with a lazy yawn, “Well, I’m off to my room for the night—”

“Come,” Si Zhiyan interrupted calmly, “to my room.”

“…” Bian Xu’s shoulders stiffened. He blanked for a moment, then quietly said, “Sir, I… I’m a little tired… maybe in a while—”

“It won’t take long.” Si Zhiyan tilted his head, red eyes fixed on him. His tone was calm, yet carried an indefinable authority. “We’ve confirmed the surroundings are safe. It’s time to tally up the spoils of this battle.”

“I need you. Come.”

Bian Xu almost stopped breathing.
He could not summon the courage to refuse.

Click. The door closed.

This was a storybook bedroom, with a soaring six- or seven-meter-high ceiling, plush red carpet, and ornate plasterwork on the ceiling. The fireplace glowed on the wall. At the center stood a great, soft double bed with red drapes hanging down.

Si Zhiyan dropped his bag on the desk and began to slip off his coat to rest.

Thump.

Behind him came a faint, heavy sound.

Turning, Si Zhiyan saw Bian Xu gripping his own shirtfront, kneeling on the carpet, braced against the wall. Sweat dripped from his nose.

He had tried, desperately tried to control himself—but the moment the door was closed, he collapsed at last.

The disguise melted away without a sound. Blond hair spilled everywhere.

[Sorry… &… Sorry…] Bian Xu’s head hung deep, his throat producing broken, rasping sounds,
[I… I’ll just… just go…]

He was trembling.

From under his jacket, the vines had swelled so much they looked ready to burst, quivering, their slick tips just barely constrained.

He had reached his limit after suppressing himself all afternoon.

“…”
Si Zhiyan’s gaze darkened. Lowering his head, he continued, taking off his coat and draping it over a chair. He said lightly, “This isn’t home—it’s Hephaestus Castle. If you leave others with some odd impression, I’ll be troubled.”

[…ah…] Bian Xu jolted all over, shaking, producing a blurred nasal sound.

He seemed barely conscious now.

His outline, beneath the jacket and shirt, was swollen out of all proportion.

In chaos, he raised his head, looking at his Sir.

Si Zhiyan sat on the bed, long legs crossed. He wore only a thin white shirt, buttoned to the very top, outlining his slim waist.
Those bewitching red eyes were as calm as ever. Adjusting his cuffs, he crooked a finger:

“Come.”

——

Bian Xu let out a sound that barely resembled a human voice—a mixture of whimper and confusion.

The air cracked with a pop; cool wind rushed past burning ears.

When he returned to himself, he was shuddering, pinning Si Zhiyan to the bed. Countless vines exploded out, writhing from his body. The hem of his jacket bulged, thick and slick vines waving in the air.

He pressed down on his Sir, the heavy vines twisted and tangled everywhere—clutching Si Zhiyan’s slender wrists, his joints, his moving throat, winding round his narrow waist, plant sap dripping and soaking his clean shirt.

Sir’s red eyes looked back calmly, still gentle, starkly out of place amid the contorted chaos.

Bian Xu was terrified. He gasped desperately, voice breaking into something almost childish, helpless:

[So…rry… sorry… Sir… Sir… s-sorry…]

He tried, oh he tried, with all his might, to pull back—but he couldn’t. He trembled, his Sir’s scent filling his lungs, his body, his limbs. He had no control at all. This was—Sir. His most respected, most beloved Sir, whom he barely dared touch, for whom even the smallest contact was enough to make him blush and feel secretly overjoyed.

Bian Xu gave everything to draw away, but only held Si Zhiyan tighter, his shuddering face lowering toward that pale neck, lips slightly parted.

Between those lips was a row of sharp carnivorous teeth.

[Sir…] His voice was half-belief, half-despair, a prayer and a sob. [Sir… Sir… please… kill me… Sir…]

A warm, slender hand reached up, brushing the back of his neck, vines and all.

“It’s alright.”

Pressed into the soft bedding, Si Zhiyan gently petted Bian Xu’s sweat-damp neck.

He had expected this.

“I’m here.”

His tone was almost tender—utterly unchanged, as if whispered on an idle afternoon.

“I will never kill you. I promise—no matter what you do, by tomorrow morning, we’ll both forget all of this.”

“I’m with you. Do whatever you want.”

——

In that moment, Bian Xu seemed to hear the final thread of reason within him finally snap.

As tears burst free, the very next instant, he sank his teeth deep.

“……”

Si Zhiyan’s mind went utterly blank. In that moment when blood, flesh, and consciousness all fled his body, he understood with absolute clarity what had happened to Bian Xu.

Why he hid, why he ran away, why even his master had never known…

…

…He was addicted.

He was addicted to Si Zhiyan’s flesh and blood.