Hansel’s Enchanted Fairytale: Fill Me Up With Magic! - Chapter 17
He blinked a few times without any discernible reaction. His posture was so unnervingly straight that he almost resembled a doll with only the function to blink.
Unable to read his expression, Hansel’s palms grew clammy with nervousness. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.
“Milk.”
“……”
“Butter, cheese, potatoes, salt, caramelized onions, truffle, herbs, pepper, beef. For the broth: carrots, leeks, raw onions.”
“Ah… I see…”
“No humans. I just kill them.”
“……”
Was that supposed to be a relief?
At the very least, the soup didn’t contain human meat, so it should be safe to eat.
Comforting herself with that thought, Hansel took another spoonful of the potato soup. Before she knew it, the plate was empty. The next course was lamb chops with asparagus.
She cut into the tender lamb, took a bite, and involuntarily let out a hum of delight.
“This is really amazing…”
Hansel had never truly enjoyed food before. Especially at home, where meals with her family were always joyless. But how could the lamb chops, a dish she’d eaten countless times, taste so incredible now?
“I told you I’m good at cooking,” he said, a hint of pride in his tone.
Hansel offered no resistance and readily agreed. Then she returned her focus to the lamb, savoring each bite.
Meanwhile, he leaned on the table with his chin in his hand, quietly observing Hansel devour her meal.
It was strange. Watching this petite woman eat was oddly fascinating. The way the glistening red juices disappeared into her mouth, and the sight of her chewing—it was strangely captivating.
Her moist lips glistened in a way that reminded him of how they looked last night, wrapped around his s***t.
After a while, he suddenly murmured,
“It felt good.”
“Huh?”
Hansel blinked, her mouth still full of beef as she looked up at him.
Without hesitation, he casually continued,
“When you sucked my c**k.”
“Argh, cough, hack!”
Hansel nearly spat out the meat she was chewing. Her face turned beet red as she struggled to suppress her coughing fit. A glass of water floated over and landed gently in front of her. She grabbed it and gulped the water down desperately.
“But you said you didn’t like it,” he remarked, matter-of-factly. “You said you were tired.”
“I… I did.”
“So, what else don’t you like? Being tired? Being called an animal? Asparagus?”
Hansel glanced down at her plate. Without realizing it, she had pushed the asparagus to the side of her dish. Embarrassed to have her habits exposed, she put down her fork and knife, looking back at him.
She opened her mouth as if to say something but closed it again. Claiming memory loss meant she couldn’t offer a detailed answer without raising suspicions. And revealing her dislikes might give him something to exploit later.
“Why do you want to know?” she asked cautiously.
“I don’t.”
Hansel froze. His steady gaze revealed no trace of deceit.
His eyes were sincere, for better or worse. He seemed incapable of lying. But that didn’t change the fact that he was powerful enough to kill her on a whim. Any information she gave had to be shared with the utmost caution.
“If there’s something I hate… it’s being killed. I really hate that.”
“Hm.”
He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and rubbed his chin.
“I’ll think about that.”
“What…?”
Hansel gripped her fork tightly. It felt unfair and infuriating, but what could she do? He was the one holding her life in his hands. She clenched her teeth, trying to mask her frustration.
“How am I supposed to trust you if you keep changing your mind?”
“Promises come first,” he said.
“……”
Hansel fell silent, trying to parse his words.
“So, what you’re saying is… since I sucked your d**k to stay alive, you’ll decide today if I did it well enough to keep me alive again?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, looking oddly satisfied with her understanding. Hansel let out a resigned sigh, frustration bubbling under her breath.
He asked another question.
“Besides dying, what else do you hate?”
Hansel glanced at her half-eaten steak, speaking softly.
“If I tell you what I hate, and you think it’s something you have to do, what will you do?”
“Give me an example.”
“Just hypothetically… I’m not saying I hate it, but if I said I didn’t want to suck your d**k, would you still make me?”
Hansel fiddled with the handle of her knife.
“I’m not saying I hate it—it’s just hypothetical.”
Thankfully, he didn’t seem angry. He rested his chin on his hand again, letting out a short sigh.
“Then you’d better be good at something else.”
Something else she was good at?
That was the one thing Hansel was least confident about.
“And… what if I’m not good at anything?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, her plate of steak floated away, replaced by the final course: a dessert. A small, elegant dish landed in front of her with a soft clink.
It was Mont Blanc.
“If you’re not, there’s no reason to keep you alive.”
He casually stabbed his fork into the chestnut cream without hesitation.
