Glancing around, Shea noticed the balcony door of Abel’s adjacent bedroom was open.
Her brow furrowed. Sensing something amiss, she slipped over the railing and tiptoed into Abel’s room.
The space was immaculate—clothes folded neater than in her own room. But Shea barely registered the tidiness.
Her eyes darted around, hunting for her missing panties. They lay crumpled on the bed, unnervingly still.
She approached. A semi-transparent, milky-white liquid stained the fabric. *Maybe yogurt?*
“…”
A chilling smile spread across Shea’s face. She gripped her Light Blade and strode out through Abel’s bedroom door.
Abel, resting in the living room, blinked in confusion.
“Shea? Wrong room? Wait—I locked that door.”
*Heh~* “My *esteemed* Hunter,” Shea purred, her voice dripping with menace, “would you kindly step inside your room for a moment?”
Her grin radiated pure dread. A cold shiver shot down Abel’s spine. *When did I cross this little terror?*
Honestly, he’d rather worship her. After all—*hungry stomachs rule the world*. Who’d dare anger the cook?
Bewildered but obedient, Abel followed her inside.
Shea stood arms-crossed beside the bed. On the sheets lay a crumpled pair of panties.
*Ah.* Now he understood her fury.
But—he’d never touched her underwear!
“Scumbag,” Shea hissed, brandishing a panic button. “You have the right to remain silent. But anything you say after I press this will be used against you in court.”
She meant it. No one wants their lingerie used as… *materials*.
“Calm down, Shea. This reeks of a setup.”
*Oh?* “Keep lying,” she scoffed, though she lowered the button slightly, watching him like a spectator awaiting a bad play.
“First—I swear it wasn’t me.” Abel’s tone was earnest as he scanned his room. “This reeks of Rico’s frame-up.”
“…”
Shea’s eye twitched. *Rico? She’s standing right here!*
Just rescued from Cultists by *him*, no less. When would she have time to plant evidence?
And why use her *own* panties?
Let alone that suspicious stain.
Shea now stared at Abel like he was human trash.
“Hold on.” Abel lifted the panties. Had his gaze not been utterly clinical, Shea would’ve kicked his face in.
Then—before her horrified eyes—he dipped a finger into the stain and tasted it.
“Holy—! Scumbag! Even tigers don’t eat their young!”
“What? No—Shea, it *is* Rico’s trap. This is just yogurt.”
“…”
His deadpan expression left her speechless. *Did I… misjudge him?* But who’d do this?
“It’s genuinely yogurt. High-end stuff. Tastes great.”
*Tastes great…?*
Reality crashed over Shea. *There’s a freak here!*
Who licks mystery fluids off underwear without flinching?!
The liquid’s origin no longer mattered.
Shea stumbled back, terror flashing in her eyes.
“Huh? Shea, wait—it’s *yogurt*! I’m innocent! Rico set me up!”
Abel took a step forward, panties in hand.
Shea retreated three steps.
“Ugh… I can’t prove it.” Abel rubbed his temples, then snapped his fingers. “Here—taste it yourself?”
*“Taste it yourself.”*
The five words echoed in Shea’s skull. Her horror deepened.
“STAY AWAY!”
She bolted out the balcony door, leaving Abel muttering in stunned silence.
“It’s *yogurt*… Seriously, amazing yogurt.”
He took another taste. Only when his finger brushed the fabric did he grasp Shea’s terror.
*Did I… just do the unthinkable?*
Abel placed the panties on the desk with solemn care, then fled to the living room for water.
*Rico! You little—! I’LL END YOU!*
His mental scream shook the walls.
---
Next morning, Abel sat twenty meters from Shea at breakfast—East Wall versus West Wall.
Last night’s trauma had clearly scarred the girl.
“Uh… Shea?”
“Hm?”
Bowl clutched like a shield, Shea scrambled backward.
Abel winced. *Time to charm this Lucky Cat again.*
But every step he took forward sent her three steps back. *How do I even talk to her?*
Silver lining: she hadn’t kicked him out. Finding a new cook—especially one this cute—would be a pain.
*Greedy, but cute.*
After breakfast, watching Shea flee like a startled rabbit, Abel sighed.
*Only time can fix this.*
But first—he had a certain white cat to strangle.
*Next time we meet, Rico… no mercy.*
*This is your final warning.*
---
Meanwhile.
“Miss Rora,” Gin reported crisply, “Miss Shea just stormed out of the apartment, furious.”
Rora beamed. *Just as I predicted.*
*Sister truly believes the Hunter did it.*
“Now you have every reason to kick that Hunter out,” Rora mused, chin propped on her palm, drunk on her own cleverness. “Soon, you’ll be gloriously alone again.”
“So, Sister…” She twirled a lock of hair. “Thank me~”
