Grind-to-Cash System: Buy SSS Skills to Spam them Infinitely with Cash-Chapter 33 - The stomach is a door to the heart

The house smelled the same as before, all sourced from the kitchen, as if someone were cooking at night.

A faint sweetness of caramelized onions and something vaguely burnt wafted from the kitchen—along with the clatter of mismatched utensils and the occasional muttered curse from the man wearing an apron two sizes too tight.

Vex.

He stood hunched at the hearth stove, sleeves rolled, hair tied sloppily back, trying to stir something with the wrong end of a spoon. A streak of flour ran across his cheek.

His expression was focused, determined, almost childishly proud—until the spoon slipped, and a muffled "Shit—" echoed from behind the counter.

At the dining table, three women sat in silence.

Maira, seated nearest the kitchen’s open arch, had her hands folded in her lap—her gaze unwilling to leave the man inside.

Her face was blank, calm... but her eyes betrayed her.

They kept drifting.

Watching him.

Almost entranced.

Asperia, elbows on the table, laced her fingers and tilted her head, studying the woman across from her. "Maira?"

The soft call pulled Maira from her thoughts. She blinked, turning slightly. "Yes?"

"You told me earlier you can’t be on your feet for more than an hour. Two at most." Asperia’s eyes narrowed slightly, not accusing... but curious. "Is that still true?"

Maira paused. Her shoulders stiffened—just enough for those paying attention to notice.

"Yes," she answered, slowly and measuredly, yet her mind wasn’t focused on Asperia... "That’s true."

Asperia tapped a finger against the table. "It’s been over two hours." freewebnøvel.com

Maira’s breath caught.

Her gaze flicked to the wall, then to the floor—anywhere but the kitchen.

Mirea, seated beside her, frowned. "She’s resting now. Don’t push her."

But even she... glanced at her sister’s face. Then at her hands.

There was no shaking. No sweating. No tightening of the chest. No shallow gasps that usually came when the illness crept back in.

Just stillness.

And warmth.

Asperia leaned forward a bit more, her voice softer now. "You’re not sick right now, are you?"

Maira didn’t answer.

She couldn’t.

Because she didn’t understand it either.

The weakness that haunted her since her eighteenth birthday. The burning behind her ribs. The collapses. The fever dreams.

None of it had come today.

Not since he held her.

"I don’t—"

But before she could complete her sentence, a sudden noise pulled all of their attention toward it.

"Ladies," Vex declared as he stepped out from the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, apron tied awkwardly across his waist, "Behold your breath."

They turned to see him standing there, balancing a tray with all four bowls—stacked unevenly, teetering like he’d barely rescued them from disaster.

He wore the apron backwards, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his face dusted with flour and streaked with something unsettlingly green.

With exaggerated care, he placed each bowl in front of them, one at a time, nodding proudly after every placement.

"Bon appétit."

Silence fell.

Steam rose in curling wisps, dancing like ghostly fingers.

The bowls... looked dangerous.

Vegetables floated in unnatural colors—hues they were never meant to wear. One bowl gurgled ominously. Another let out a wet pop, the kind of sound that felt sentient. Strands of something long and sinewy drifted in the broth like they hadn’t decided yet whether to be cooked—or crawl out.

Mirea squinted at hers, spoon poised.

"...That looks like boiled poop soaked in goblin piss."

As if on cue, a thick bubble surfaced and burst, releasing a lazy swirl of oily purple, stormy and slick. Some vegetables still crunched at the top, raw and defiant. A few... might’ve been fruit. Hard to tell.

She prodded the surface. A round chunk rose slowly, glassy and pale, staring like an eyeball.

"What the hell did you do to this? Did the pan insult your ancestors?"

Vex folded his arms across his chest. "That’s called art, my lady."

Maira remained quiet, blinking at the strange concoction.

She didn’t flinch—but hesitation lingered in her eyes.

The mess in the bowl wasn’t exactly appetizing, yet... he’d made it. She could tell he’d tried. So she held her tongue.

Then, wordlessly, Asperia reached for her spoon.

The others glanced at her—tense, waiting.

She dipped in, stirred once, then lifted it carefully. The steam trailed behind like silk as she brought it to her lips.

A pause.

She tasted.

And then—

A quiet, almost imperceptible smile unfurled on her face. It broke her usual calm like sun melting frost.

"...As always," she whispered. Then she picked up the bowl with both hands—etiquette forgotten—and began to eat, ravenous, as though she’d been starved for days.

"Wha—Asperia?!" Mirea gasped. "Are you possessed?!"

Her gaze darted back to her own bowl.

Was it cursed? Drugged?

Meanwhile, Vex had moved to Maira’s side.

She still hadn’t touched her spoon.

"I know it looks... aggressive," he murmured, "but it’s good. Promise."

He didn’t wait for her reply.

Instead, he scooped a small portion, leaned closer. His breath fanned gently over the spoon, warming the air between them, before he lifted it toward her lips.

Maira froze.

He was close. Too close.

When she looked up, there was no smirk. No teasing glint. Just a quiet offering in his eyes.

Her heart thudded once—hard.

She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying to steady herself, fingers lingering at her temple.

Then, slowly, she leaned in—just enough—and parted her lips.

The spoon met them.

"N-NO—!" Mirea scowled, stretching out a hand across the table.

"You’ll make her sick again, idiot!"

But before she could stop it—before her fingers could reach or her words fully land—Maira took the bite.

And the moment the warm liquid touched her tongue—

Her breath hitched.

Her eyes widened, lashes fluttering as the sensation bloomed inside her like a spark catching fire. It wasn’t just taste—it was heat, silk, and spice all at once, rolling across her tongue with a strange, rich depth.

Her body shivered faintly, knees pressing together beneath the table.

It was heavenly.

An unexpected wave of pleasure washed over her—so sudden, so inexplicably good—that her chest tightened and her cheeks flushed with the kind of warmth she didn’t know food could bring.

Maira froze, stunned.

Then, almost reflexively, her hands flew up, fingers pressing against her lips like she had to trap the sensation inside.

Like speaking would break it. Her wide eyes flicked toward Vex.

He was already watching her.

And that smug little smirk had returned—slow, knowing.

She blinked at him, struggling to recover, to find something to say.

Finally, her voice escaped—soft, almost embarrassed.

"...It’s tasty."