Cleaned up the mess.
Then she ladled another bowl of porridge from the pot, placed it on the bedside table, and sat back down on the edge of the bed.
She rested her elbows on her knees, propping her chin in her hands.
The light in her eyes shifted and flickered as if lost in thought.
The air inside the room nearly froze, maintaining a suffocating silence.
The rice porridge cooled completely, its surface forming a thin skin of congealed starch, yet no one broke the uneasy atmosphere.
“Nya~ Miss Vivian, are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Why not speak up and let the great Zaphira help you think of a solution?”
A teasing voice came from the stove, like the whisper of a demon, honeyed poison wrapped in temptation.
Our stove demon—
Zaphira—
Had noticed Vivian’s unusual mood the moment she returned.
But Zaphira pretended nothing was wrong, because she knew the fire wasn’t burning hot enough yet.
To ensure a successful hunt, a hunter must have enough patience before striking, waiting for the prey to let down its guard and fall into the trap.
The moment that bowl of porridge hit the ground was the peak of Vivian’s stress.
‘Patience, Zaphira. Patience.’
Now was the time when Vivian’s relief valve was buzzing, her whole being wound as tight as a mainspring, ready to snap at any moment.
‘Just wait a little longer, and I will succeed.’
Like a leopard, she lurked in the bushes of the stove, quietly observing Vivian’s movements and emotional changes.
When she saw Vivian’s eyes gradually dim and become hollow, the soul body Zaphira inside the statue curled the corner of her mouth into a smug smile.
‘Now is the perfect time to seize the opportunity!’
“It’s none of your business.”
Vivian turned her head away, speaking in a flat tone.
“Oh dear, I know it’s none of my business.”
Zaphira’s mood wasn’t dampened by the rejection; instead, she grew more enthusiastic:
“You and I have known each other for a while now. Perhaps in your heart, I’m just a defeated opponent you knocked down without much thought.”
Her voice suddenly softened, as if sinking into some warm memory.
“But I’ve grown used to being with you, used to the days of stoking ash and making fires under the pot.”
“I don’t know when it started, but I began to see you as an irreplaceable friend.”
“Whenever I see you humming happily in front of the stove, I feel genuinely happy for you from the bottom of my heart.”
“I would accompany you from inside the statue, singing and dancing for you.”
“It might sound absurd, but down in hell, I was a beloved artist.”
Vivian remained silent, letting Zaphira’s words echo in the air of the little hut.
The flame in the oil lamp flickered once, then quickly shrank back.
“You are my first friend in this world. Your sorrowful thoughts always tug at my restless heart, driving me into a frenzy.”
Zaphira’s voice gradually lowered, as if talking to herself.
“So, not just for your peaceful life, but also for this humble, unaware self of mine.”
“Tell me about your troubles. We can discuss them together and find a way to solve them.”
Vivian’s fingers tightened slightly on her knees.
Her eyes stared at a crack in the floor, lost in thought.
After what seemed like a long time, she suddenly stood up and walked to the stove.
Zaphira, who had been chattering nonstop just a moment ago, fell silent, giving her time.
Inside the stove, a triumphant smile had already crept across Zaphira’s face.
‘This will be a great victory!’
Smack!
A small hand brutally thrust into the stove and yanked out Zaphira’s statue.
“Finally we meet again, Vivian.”
“My one and only friend, I wish you all the best.”
The chibi-style Zaphira on the statue wore a confident, smug expression, exactly like the little devil she was when alive.
“You… shut up.”
Vivian finally spoke, her voice still flat.
“Fine, but before I shut up, can you tell me your trouble?”
“I want to share this burden with you too.”
She grabbed the statue’s head and, like kneading rubber clay, twisted it violently into various shapes.
She twisted the statue’s head around to the back, not wanting to see Zaphira’s face anymore.
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
Besides, Zaphira was flat both front and back—no difference.
Yet she kept chattering.
“But I want to~”
Such a seductive thing belonged in the trash…
Vivian walked to the window, opened the pane, and prepared to throw the demon out.
“It’s because of that man, isn’t it?”
Vivian’s throwing motion paused for a moment, her gaze sharpening.
‘Sure enough, women in love and marriage are all the same.’
Zaphira muttered inwardly.
“Kill her, Vivian.”
The demon’s whisper came again.
Her voice was eerily calm, yet full of temptation.
The whisper resonated along the ear canal and eardrum, and her heart felt as if gripped by an invisible hand—heavy and oppressive.
“Kill who?”
Vivian’s grip on the statue unconsciously tightened, the statue creaking under the pressure of her palm.
“That woman, that cat thief!”
“Kill her now! Vivian!”
Zaphira’s tone suddenly became agitated.
“She tried to intrude into your life, steal what’s yours, destroy your daily routine, wreck your family!”
“Only when she becomes a corpse will she cease her evil trespasses!”
“So go kill her, Vivian.”
Then she lowered her voice again, hissing coldly into Vivian’s ear.
“Get lost!”
Vivian muttered under her breath, then hurled the statue out the window.
She glanced at the dim sky outside, shut the window, returned to the bedside, and sat down, letting out a deep, turbid breath.
A shadow of gloom flickered in Vivian’s eyes.
‘That cat thief…’
“F… finally… peace and quiet…”
As she forced out those words, her expression twisted instantly.
But she quickly shifted her gaze to Nolan’s face, gradually softening into a gentle look.
‘That cat thief…’
She slowly bent down, pressing herself into the hollow of his shoulder.
She stuck out her tongue and gently licked the skin on his neck.
Then, she bared the sharp fangs of her upper jaw, piercing through the skin into the common carotid artery.
She drank in big gulps, as if deliberately taking revenge, each mouthful carrying a stubborn, petulant force.
Until the feeling of fullness in her stomach grew heavier.
“Cough! Cough! Cough!”
The discomfort made her spit out the liquid from her mouth.
She wiped the corner of her mouth and muttered:
“Killing… is indeed a good idea.”
Vivian used blood magic to peel away the blood that had soaked into the bedding, condensing it into a single blood bead that she threw into her mouth.
Once the bedding was clean, she covered Nolan again, tucking the corners under his chin.
‘Almost forgot, he’s still a sick patient.’
She poured away the porridge that had cooled nearly to a solid on the bedside and replaced it with a fresh steaming bowl, placing it where he could reach it as soon as he sat up.
“Be good~ Wait here at home. I’ll go take care of someone and come back to accompany you, okay?”
She pressed her soft lips to Nolan’s forehead, leaving a wet kiss.
Vivian slipped on her leather shoes and pushed open the door of the house.
Behind her, the porridge still steamed, wisps rising one after another, twisting unsteadily in the lamplight.
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