Mood

Haven breathed out, walking out of the bathroom after showering and meticulously examining her reflection to ensure that the once-visible redness on her cheek was now completely vanished.

Phew!

The pills she had seen on her bedside table were now probably in a sewer somewhere. She had flushed them down the second she saw them, knowing that he would ask her if she had eaten them or not.

She didn't need to since she was completely fine, she assured herself.

The voice chuckled darkly as if it was amused by her thoughts. Ignoring it for the time as she had recently grown to do so, she headed toward the closet to get one of her favorite hoodies out.

A frown decorated her face as she narrowed her eyes and wondered why the previous clothes were no longer in there and were replaced by new and different ones. Had he changed them? But why would he? It made utterly no sense to her.

Hell, what happened to the previous clothes!?

Considering their designs and the feel of the cloth, she wouldn't be able to afford them even if she sold her entire being along with the few things she owned!

She closed her eyes, massaging her temple softly. She still needed to hack into her previous bank account to get her remaining money back before CIA used it for some other noble purpose.

Her stomach growled in protest as she took the stairs two at a time and jumped off the last one. Old habits die hard, she thought internally and located the dining room in a few seconds with the help of a maid.

However, as soon as she stepped inside the massive room, she wished the ground would swallow her up and never vomit her out ever again.

Fuck my rotten luck...

Zei looked up from the head of the table and then did a double take to make sure that she was actually standing there and wasn't another one of his illusions. Cocking his head to a side, he watched her secretly wondering what she was going to do next.

Run or face him?

His lips twisted into a tiny smirk seeing her walk forward and take the seat farthest away from him. The little kitten sure was in a mood this morning and he couldn't help but wonder why. Was she still remembering what had happened yesterday?

Haven, her eyes widening with anticipation and hunger, gazed in awe at the lavish spread of delectable dishes that were meticulously presented before her.

The table was adorned with a tantalizing bowl of piping hot congee, fragrant and comforting, its smooth texture promising a delightful gastronomic experience. Beside it, a plate of golden-brown youtiao stood tall, their crispy exteriors giving way to a light and fluffy interior, ready to be dipped into the congee or savored on their own.

Not stopping there, the table also boasted an assortment of colorful dim sum, each piece a culinary masterpiece. Steamed dumplings, their translucent wrappers enclosing a medley of succulent fillings, beckoned Haven with their delicate aroma.

She could hardly resist the temptation to pick up a plump, shrimp-filled har gow or a tender, fragrant shumai. The dumplings were accompanied by an array of dipping sauces, their flavors ranging from tangy to savory, enhancing the taste of each bite.

The thin, crepe-like pancake, freshly made and slightly crisp, enveloped a harmonious blend of ingredients. Scallions, cilantro, and pickled vegetables mingled with a savory sauce and a thin layer of egg, creating a symphony of flavors and textures.

Unknowingly, her eyes traveled to where he was sitting. He was looking down at his phone and so Haven stared calmly, unaware that he could feel her gaze on him as he tried his best not to smile or raise his head to look at her.

He was wearing those ridiculously perfect-fitting jeans and had topped them with a plain white t-shirt, of all things. But for all his casual attire, no one would ever be able to mistake him for anything other than part of the upper-class elite; it was aristocratic, the way he sat, the way he moved — lazy and refined and controlled all at once — and Haven wondered, uncomfortably, if that was how he always moved.

[Take.]

His eyes darted up to meet hers and she instantly looked out a window, the weather suddenly appearing more interesting than anything else in the room.

Why's he looking at me?

Why does he look like that?

Where are the others?

He murdered my parents. He murdered my parents. He murdered my parents. He murdered my—

"How're you feeling?" he asked and she gripped her chopsticks tighter in her hands, unwilling to look in his direction still.

"Normal."

"Did you take the pills?"

She made a soft noise of agreement. "Mmhm."

"Liar."

And suddenly she was hearing a chair being pushed back. Stiffening all over, she carefully turned her head around and saw him leaning against the door in the same lazy posture he was previously sitting in. With his shoulders down and his sleeves rolled up to his forearms and his long, beautiful fingers coming up to run through his hair—

Snap OUT of it!

"I'm guessing you flushed them down the toilet," he stated and she parted her lips, wondering if he could read her thoughts or not. "Thankfully, I have a few more stored in the drawer of your desk," he smirked and she wished she could throw something at him or punch his face to remove that cocky grin off of his face.

"And what'll you do if I flush them again—"

He took a step forward. "Then I'll be feeding them to you myself with my very own hands." he paused, his eyes darkening. "I'll do it the way I want to and trust me, you don't want to know how I would."

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Images of the food/breakfast are available in the comment section >.<

Happy reading everyone ( •̀ ω •́ )✧