Who Really Came to Eat

Ji Xiting finished speaking and, with a glimmer of hope in his expression, carefully studied the expressions of these horrifying creatures.

If only he could earn their approval, he could climb higher and stand farther.

It was a lot like an exam, but far more interesting than one.

At least, the horrifying creatures weren’t as rigid as those annoying teachers at school…

As long as more than half of them agreed, his membership rank would be secured.

But Ji Xiting didn’t get the reaction he’d been hoping for.

The creatures exchanged silent glances with one another. The man with the goatee shook his head and let out a cold snort.

Ji Xiting began to panic.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What’s the matter—are you unsatisfied?”

The masked creature picked up its knife and fork.

Its mask was grotesque—a filthy white cloth hood with two unevenly cut round holes, revealing pitch-black eyes beneath.

The mouth of the mask was a long slit that looked as if it had been torn open by hand.

Both sides of the slit were stained with a mess of colors—red, sauce-brown, filthy smears—blurred together, looking from a distance like lips with smudged edges.

“It’s just food,” it said simply. “Won’t make much of a difference. Keep it quiet during the meal, kid.”

The ornately dressed woman beside it burst into crude laughter, staring at Ji Xiting like he was a plaything.

“Someone’s not happy!” she called out. “Makes sense. If you turned the Hunter into a dish, what would those players have left to play with?”

“I was expecting you to be so good at toying with people’s hearts—tsk, how is this any different from the tricks hundreds of years ago?”

The color drained from Ji Xiting’s lips, which had barely had any color to begin with.

He scrambled to defend himself: “That’s not it! You—please, listen to me. What I mean is…”

His voice was cut off by a heavy knock at the door.

Outside.

Zhu Yan nervously checked his uniform, then took out his phone to see how much disguise time remained.

29 minutes and 5 seconds.

This door had way too much soundproofing—or maybe his own rank was just too low.

Just now, he had tried to hold his breath and listen for any noise inside, but he heard absolutely nothing!

Another second passed before a young, irritable roar came from inside.

“Are you insane? Since when do servers knock?! Just bring it in!”

Zhu Yan remembered this young voice—it sounded like it belonged to someone no older than eighteen.

He’d heard it during a meeting in the Kitchen, blaring through the broadcast. The puppets in the logistics department called that voice “the boss.”

What’s going on in there?

This horrifying creature had such a short temper?

Time was precious.

Zhu Yan didn’t hesitate. He pushed open the heavy door and put on a practiced, professional smile.

“Apologies, my lords,” he said, feigning humility.

As the door swung open, the entire banquet hall came into view.

Two long, narrow tables stood side by side, with several horrifying creatures seated neatly behind each one.

Not fifteen—but definitely at least twelve.

One of them, Zhu Yan recognized well—

It was the noblewoman he’d first seen in the Hall of Mourning, the one who looked like she had syphilis.

Later, to clear that instance, he had even played her twice.

But now, facing her, his head didn’t spin the way it had in the Hall of Mourning.

He glanced discreetly at her smiling face and thought the decay on it seemed worse than before.

“What dish did you make?” the same young voice demanded impatiently.

It was the creature seated at the very foot of the table—a teenage boy.

He looked at most like a high school senior, wearing a blue-and-white school uniform stained with blood. His head was sewn onto his neck with thread.

His hairstyle was gendered in the oddest way—hime cut, neither masculine nor feminine—with baby hairs at the back braided into a thin, long rattail, dyed a rebellious dark teal.

Interestingly, aside from this creature, every other one wore an expression of disdain, indifference, or mockery.

A dozen pairs of eyes either stared at the serving cart or glanced at it once before looking away in boredom.

“The chef’s clothes are more interesting than today’s food,” Zhu Yan overheard the goateed man remark quietly.

“Serve the dishes. Let me see what surprises this—Mr. Ji—has prepared for us.”

The way “Mr. Ji” was said carried a faint upward lilt at the end, imitating a human’s dismissive tone.

Zhu Yan understood in an instant, his mind racing through several conclusions.

This man named Ji Xiting was someone who could directly command the Kitchen.

He was essentially the one in charge of today’s dishes.

And the creatures’ subtle attitude made it clear they weren’t satisfied with what Ji Xiting had prepared.

But what did he do?

Shouldn’t the actual dishes be prepared by Zhu Yan, the head chef?

Zhu Yan quickly pushed the cart to the open space between the two long tables and, mimicking the demeanor of a head chef, casually probed for information in front of these high-ranking creatures.

“As you can see, my lords, the Kitchen has prepared exquisite dishes. We paid great attention to the flavors you specifically emphasized…”

Whether these creatures had actually emphasized “flavor” was something Zhu Yan had no idea about.

But Ji Xiting looked like an impulsive one.

If “the lords” hadn’t emphasized it, he would probably step up to correct Zhu Yan.

Zhu Yan let his trailing words hang slightly longer, and sure enough, Ji Xiting at the end of the table couldn’t hold it in.

“…And entertainment! Fun—we especially emphasized the fun factor.”

He hastily added, then realizing he’d been impulsive, lowered his voice halfway through the sentence.

Ah, I see.

Zhu Yan got it now.

So the contempt from these creatures was aimed at the lack of entertainment.

Strange—what exactly had Ji Xiting told them?

That thought flickered through Zhu Yan’s mind. He then pushed the cart, took out the cooked, portioned fish from the lower shelf, and served it one plate at a time to each creature.

The upper shelf of the cart was covered with thick red cloth and a massive silver platter—his Hunter puppet was hidden underneath.

But he couldn’t reveal it just yet—

If he showed his trump card immediately, his eagerness would be too obvious.

“Cursed fish served with minced black meat paste.”

Zhu Yan returned to the cart and mimicked a head chef’s haughty, refined posture.

“This is the appetizer. Please enjoy it first, my lords.”

If he’d counted correctly, he had about 26 minutes left.

Ji Xiting’s face instantly went even paler.

“That’s it?” one creature sneered. “The flavor’s decent, but as for delicacies—there’s nothing we haven’t tasted before.”

The masked killer shoved a piece of fish into its mouth.

“Food’s food. I already said, why are you demanding so much from some brat?”

The woman let out a tinkling, coquettish laugh, leaning sideways and nibbling on her fork.

“Oh dear. Because everyone loves a show of toying with hearts—who here actually came for the meal?”

“Stupid master, stupid subordinates. Don’t you agree, head chef?”