A Nice Warm Breakfast
The thing about showers in the morning is that at times, it's hard to convince yourself to strip down on cold mornings, to face the goosebumps and the cold floors and to fight the grogginess at the same time. The first water hits you, and you are shocked at first, and then you feel something inside you melt, and you never want to step out ever again. It's cathartic seeing the dirt and soap bubbles flow away so easily down the drain, to a place you're never to see them again.
And then—it's time to leave that small, weird comfortable place you made for yourself, and it's back to the cold hard floor, and it's time to face your damp self in the foggy mirror.
Sometimes, MC forgets what she looks like, or what she's supposed to look like. She takes a handful of her long, brown hair, still dripping from her shower. She wipes off the fog from the mirror, and stares at herself, wet and naked in a bathroom that isn't hers.
How many days has she been here again? She has not been allowed to go around much in this place, but strangely enough, she doesn't mind. She doesn't mind anything about the strange circumstances that brought her to this strange game development company—or so they say—doesn't mind the fact that an unknown number called her, inviting her to test a game, doesn't mind that she was brought here willingly blindfolded in a strange car, doesn't mind being told to stay put in a nice room with nice flowers with a nice view of the mountainside and to play a dating sim all day…
Most especially though, she doesn't mind the rare, real human interaction she has with that strange fellow who conspired to bring her here in the first place…
Who in their right mind would have accepted these terms so easily? She should have been afraid, right? What if these were murderers or human traffickers?
She remembers her train of thought the day she was brought here—
"If they kill me, it wouldn't be so bad."
She concludes that she wasn't in her right mind. Has not been for some time now.
She stares at herself in the mirror. Things have happened. Most days, the trauma she experienced makes it so she doesn't remember. Is it something work-related or love-related, or something to do with a close friend passing away—her drowning in cycles of blame and self-hate and despair.
She has skipped so many meals. She stares at her bare belly, moves to the thigh gap that isn't there before, and reluctantly, she meets her own eyes in the mirror. Those who do not know her probably think that she is a naturally thin woman—she might be able to fool them into thinking she is healthy…
Her eyes surprise her. She noticed this on her first night in her new room. A spark that isn't there before, fighting to ignite and burst into flame…
She sighs, wraps a towel around her head and her hair, and walks into her bedroom. It is a much nicer bedroom than the one she actually rents in the city. A Queen-sized bed with fresh white sheets. A closet full of expensive-looking designer clothing and shoes, which are precisely her size. French Rococo inspired interior. It is a little old-fashioned, but she appreciates things like this.
A soft knock on the door interrupts her thoughts.
"Come in," she calls out as she starts picking out her clothes. She guesses that it's one of the women servants in this building, silent and always clad in black clothing that obscured their features, bringing her a tray full of food that she is unable to eat.
However, a different familiar face greets her from the doorway. He is taken slightly aback upon realizing that she is only clad in a towel.
"It's fine, Ray," she tells him. Where has her shame gone, she wonders briefly. She is honestly indifferent about her body, and the risk of putting it on full display in front of him doesn't threaten her.
His tall figure then enters her room. To her surprise he is carrying a tray, precariously balanced in one hand. The scent of fried meat and butter fills her nostrils.
"Good morning," he says. He places the food tray on the table next to her bed. "I hope you pardon my intrusion. I… felt like making you breakfast."
"Oh," she says, genuinely surprised. She worries briefly that the women servants reported to him that she has not been finishing her meals. She only takes the fruit cups and juices, and leaves the actual meals untouched. "You made all that?"
He nods. "We have been serving you Korean meals all this time without asking you for your personal tastes… so as a change of pace, I made you something Western for today."
Her breakfast is sausages, eggs, steamed vegetables, bread, butter, jam, and juice. It is a portion too big than what she is used to—her condition only allows her to eat one or two spoonfuls of anything, before her body decides it has had enough—but strangely enough, the sight of it makes her stomach growl.
Ray seems to have heard her tummy rumbling as well, and this makes him giggle. Despite herself, MC feels the redness creep up to her face.
"That looks great, Ray. Thank you very much." She gives him a smile. Even though she forces herself to smile a lot these days, this one feels genuine, for some reason. "But, it's—
"You don't like it?" His tone is sharp and worried, and the smile on his face instantly falls. "I knew it… I should have known better than to assume what you would like, MC… I should have…"
"No, no, Ray." This guy must be a perfectionist, she thinks, and she touches his arm to calm him down. "I appreciate this, and it looks so, so delicious. But I might not be able to finish such a huge portion."
Ray calms down and nods. His smile comes back. "Good. That's good. You... mustn't skip meals, MC. I know the game I made for you can be quite addicting, but you must always make sure to take care of your body."
He is very cute, much like an awkward child who tries his best to take care of everyone else. He bows like a gentleman, and prepares to take his leave, when…
Despite herself, she clings onto his arm again.
Ray looks at her thin hand with surprise, and his pale green eyes looks into her amber eyes with curiosity.
"It's bad to waste food, so you have to eat this with me," she declares. The stubborn blush in her face refuses to calm down.
He smiles, but shakes his head. "I am fine, MC. I made this for you, and for you only. Really, it's…
"If you don't share this with me, I won't eat it any of it," she declares again.
Ray's eyes widen. She has been compliant all this time, has always followed all the strange things that he asks her to do, but this is the first time that she explicitly asks for something for herself.
Silently, Ray takes her hand off his arm, places them in his, regards this briefly, and nods. He takes a seat next to the table.
She smiles victoriously and tells him to wait. She turns around, starts putting on her underwear, and carelessly lets the towel fall on the floor.
"Sh-should I wait outside?" asks Ray, to which she replies curtly, "If you leave, I'm not eating anything."
She is surprised at her candour, to be sure, but she glances at him over her shoulder briefly, half-expecting him to look away with a blush on his face. However, she catches him, looking at her bare back and bottom, transfixed as if she were a beautiful painting.
She honestly hasn't felt beautiful like this in a while…
She doesn't take long in dressing up. She turns around, and Ray is still there, staring at her in that intense way of his.
"I'm sorry for staring," he says quietly, but doesn't stop.
"Don't be sorry."
He smiles at her again, and she sits down on the edge of the bed and takes the fork and knife. For the first time since she moved here, she tastes the food in her mouth, enjoys the sensation of it filling the emptiness inside.
"I… want to take care of you forever, MC," says Ray, in between bites of bread. And even though he says it in these strange circumstances—in the setting where it may be true, that she might have to stay in this strange castle forever with him, she pays it no mind.
End –