Eldritch Horror Theatre

The results, it turned out, were quite good.

Despite being battered half to death by a demigod earlier, Catherine's mind actually seemed to be clearing up.

Combined with the therapy of revisiting an old haunt to stimulate her memories through familiar surroundings, she even remembered her name.

But it wasn't enough—

"Very good, Catherine. So, do you still remember what you look like?"

Giving her another thumbs-up, Fu Qian continued his patient guidance to help her recall more.

"I..."

This time, the voice didn't seem to come from his chest. It was slowly moving upward.

As he listened, he could perfectly picture a mouth swimming its way up.

The process was clearly not easy. As Catherine repeatedly muttered her name, her voice grew noticeably more agonized, to the point that madness began to seep through.

But that wasn't a bad thing. Pain and madness meant she was becoming more human, didn't it?

Fu Qian noted that her muttering didn't even sound as hoarse anymore.

"The customers here... are very... very annoying..."

As her muttering drew to a close, the voice suddenly rang out right beside his ear, as if someone were whispering directly into it—and indeed, someone was.

Fu Qian naturally turned his head toward his own shoulder.

Because he had caught the Meteor with his bare hand earlier, a large chunk of his fairly formal attire had been torn away. Over his exposed shoulder, a thick, dense mass of blackness was slowly condensing into a ball.

And the thing that had emphasized the word "annoying" twice was a mouth exposing stark white teeth.

Having only this single organ on a head-like shape was not a pleasant sight, but fortunately, fluid quickly flowed over the teeth to outline more facial features.

Catherine. It really was her.

Although he disliked wasting his mental bandwidth remembering such things, Fu Qian easily recognized her as the beautiful, eye-catching waitress.

As her features rapidly took shape, her skin turned soft and pale...

Red lips, dark eyes, long hair. In just a few breaths, a familiar face appeared right beside him.

This wasn't an exaggeration, because Catherine's head was perched directly on his shoulder.

...

Was it true that what goes around comes around?

He had pulled a similar stunt once upon a time, and now he was actually the victim.

As their eyes met, the distance was a bit too intimate, instantly sparking Fu Qian's laments about fate.

Back in the Ash Sea, when he agreed to treat Rachel's good friend Li Min, he had opted to keep only her head and attach it to Rachel's shoulder because Li Min's condition had been too dire.

Yet not long after, he was struck with this vivid sense of déjà vu.

Strictly speaking, there was a difference. By comparison, Catherine's state was more independent.

"Truly repulsive. They completely fail to understand that in a place like this, the quality of the food is the only thing that matters."

Feeling the fluid below the head rapidly converting into flesh and blood, Fu Qian nodded, thoroughly agreeing with Catherine's sentiment.

When he had come here to dine for the first time, he had personally seen her being harassed, and the trigger for her losing control was directly related to that.

Fu Qian's own dissatisfaction, however, mainly stemmed from his meal being repeatedly ruined while he was eating, showing a complete lack of respect for the chef's hard work.

"...I haven't seen you before."

Catherine seemed somewhat surprised that he agreed with her.

Nevertheless, the haze in her eyes was rapidly dissipating.

When she spoke again, she didn't dwell on complaining about the customers. Instead, she addressed their current situation, staring unabashedly at Fu Qian's mask.

She was obviously trying her best to remember, to the point that her newly formed facial features twisted into a fierce grimace.

"True, you haven't seen me, but I have seen you."

Faced with this display, Fu Qian nodded once more, remaining frighteningly honest.

"So... were you saving me just now?"

Catherine's voice had completely recovered. Even though it was suppressed, it still carried the charm of a mature woman.

"Why?"

Without waiting for Fu Qian to answer, she seemed to piece together some vague memories and confirm the fact herself.

Moreover, it was obvious she didn't believe it was purely out of goodwill.

"Because you are very delicious."

Amidst her rising vigilance, her suspicions were instantly confirmed.

Fu Qian had no intention of sugarcoating his motives. He let out a string of mastermind-like laughter, his choice of words perfectly fitting the venue.

...

Very delicious?

Unfortunately, even in a restaurant, saying such things to a gorgeous woman made it hard to interpret purely as an appetite for food.

Catherine's rapidly recovering body couldn't help but tremble.

But it seemed she had lost too much blood. Her partially recovered body froze, making no attempt to struggle free or widen the distance—or at least, it seemed that way.

To Fu Qian, the real reason behind this series of reactions was incredibly easy to understand.

She had managed to climb onto him earlier with only a single breath left in her body. Even if her condition was terrible right now, she wouldn't be completely devoid of strength.

Catherine simply didn't dare.

Saving her because she was "delicious" might sound horrifying at first.

But as soon as her rationality recovered a little more, she would realize this was actually a good thing.

To her, this mysterious man was an existence capable of casually driving away a Lord... If he didn't covet her "deliciousness" and wasn't acting out of kindness, then her subsequent fate would be truly unpredictable.

From a logical standpoint, Catherine should instead be desperately hoping that her soft body, pressed tightly against his, would receive more of his appreciation.

"No rush. Come out little by little."

Unfortunately, it seemed her earlier reflexive tremble had provoked a slightly negative response.

The voice beneath the mask carried no discernible emotion, but its meaning was clear enough. He was gesturing for her to undo this parasitic state.

"My clothes are already a bit torn. Ripping them any further will affect my image."

The reason he provided was so perfunctory it was hard to even judge.

At that moment, Catherine even lowered her head.

His statement was naturally correct, but in comparison, she didn't even have any clothes to speak of.

The only thing concealing her graceful figure was the thin veil of the night.

However, it was hard to imagine such concealment having much effect on the existence before her.

Ngh—

With a suppressed groan, one of Catherine's fully formed arms exerted force. Following his instructions, she slowly pulled herself out through the tear in his clothes without causing a single shred of additional damage.

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