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Midnight Struggle
“Are you trying to strangle me in the middle of the night, Eulalia?”
Percival took a deep breath and called out, “Bring up the food!”
Soon,the maid delivered a bowl of porridge. Percival took it and crouched down, scooping up a half spoonful to feed Eulalia. His voice softened, “Eat, it’s not hot.”
The porridge was a nutritious, easily digestible mix, cooked until soft with bits of minced meat. Eulalia pressed her bloodless lips tightly shut, refusing to open her mouth or speak, just like a soulless puppet, exactly as the butler had described.
Percival, in a foul mood and lacking patience, forcibly opened her mouth to feed her. The warmth of the porridge and the sharp taste of the meat made Eulalia’s stomach revolt, urging her to vomit.
Satisfied when she swallowed, Percival’s lips curled into a smile. But before he could “praise” her, she threw up.
The white, creamy porridge
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