Chapter 6 - 5: Last Meal?

In the autumn evening, the sky darkened quickly after the sun went down. Energy-saving lights flickered on in the yard, casting a pale glow over the four busy children.

Afraid of breaking out of character, Sev Steele held back the urge to rush into the kitchen and cook dinner for them. It wasn’t until her stomach let out a loud GRUMBLE that she finally sprang up from the recliner like a startled rabbit.

"I’m starving! Hurry up, you brats, and get your butts into the kitchen!" she roared fiercely, bending down to grab a few pieces of wild yam before leading the charge inside.

The four children exchanged glances and hurried silently after her. In the past, whenever their adoptive mother ordered them to prepare ingredients, she would stare at them like a hawk, terrified they might sneak a bite. Now that she was heading in to cook, they certainly didn’t dare linger in the yard.

Once inside, Sev took out the cabinet key she carried with her. She unlocked the cupboard and retrieved a one-inch square Nutrition Block.

When Sev had read this book, her focus was mainly on the romance between the male and female leads, as well as the miraculous Abilities mentioned throughout the story. She hadn’t paid much attention to the daily struggles of ordinary slum dwellers, so she knew practically nothing about this Nutrition Block. Digging through the original owner’s memories, she learned that these were mass-produced and sold by the government. They were incredibly filling once eaten. She guessed they were probably equivalent to the compressed emergency rations on Azure.

Through the official adoption subsidy, every orphan under the age of ten received ten blocks a month. It was just enough to keep them alive, but actually feeling full was impossible. A single Nutrition Block cost five credits. The original owner couldn’t bear to spend her own money on them, so the dozen or so currently locked in the cabinet had all been hoarded from the forty blocks the children received collectively each month.

The family’s daily meals usually consisted of foraged wild greens boiled in a large pot with a single Nutrition Block. Dropping such a tiny one-inch square into a massive pot of vegetable soup only made the water slightly cloudy. It looked thin and watery, completely lacking any thickness.

Today, however, Sev had brought back wild yams. With an added Nutrition Block, the broth would be quite thick. Wild yams were considered extremely rare in the Ninth Security Zone because, once processed, they could be stored for a long time. Furthermore, their calorie count was high, making them much more filling than most mutated wild greens. It was no wonder their neighbor, Marcus Wyatt, had been willing to kill to steal these hundred-plus pounds of yams.

The four little ones had never seen a wild yam before, let alone eaten one. But while brushing the dirt off its skin, the eldest, Rusty, noticed how heavy it was. Compared to the feather-light leaves of wild vegetables, he guessed this would be far more filling. He just didn’t know if it tasted awful, nor did he know if his adoptive mother would be generous enough to let them try a small piece.

He was still pondering this when he heard Sev impatiently order, "Bring a piece of yam over and peel it."

Although Rusty felt that peeling it was a huge waste, he dared not disobey his adoptive mother. He quickly dug out a chipped paring knife and tried to shave the skin off as thinly as possible. Unable to bear throwing the scraps away, he found a broken bowl and carefully collected the peels. He planned to dry and store them. The next time their adoptive mother went out scavenging, he would bring them out to share with his younger siblings. The torment of starving all day was simply unbearable!

Sev couldn’t be bothered to care about what he was thinking. She was genuinely famished. Unlocking the water tap—a lock the original owner had intentionally installed to prevent the children from wasting water while she was out—she filled a wooden basin and poured it into a large alloy pot of unknown material. The second eldest consciously lit the fire, while the third eldest stood by to add firewood.

She took the peeled section of wild yam from Rusty. Even without its skin, it was still about twelve centimeters in diameter. While in the wilderness, she had chopped the yams into roughly fifteen-centimeter chunks for easy storage. Weighing this piece in her hand, she estimated it was around two and a half to three pounds.

Perfect. They could have a hearty meal tonight.

She picked up the only kitchen knife in the house. Even though the blade was extremely dull, cutting the yam required no effort at all. Hearing the steady THWACK, THWACK, THWACK of the blade hitting the cutting board, the four kids looked up in unison, only to be met with a jaw-dropping sight. Their adoptive mother was swinging the kitchen knife so fast it blurred into an afterimage. With every flick of her wrist, the wild yam was effortlessly diced into a neat pile of uniform, thumb-sized strips.

By now, the water in the large pot had reached a boil. Sev dumped all the yam strips in, followed by the Nutrition Block, which she had diced into smaller cubes. She picked up the family’s only large wooden spoon and began to stir. Wild yams had a high starch content; if she didn’t keep it moving, the bottom would easily burn.

She didn’t add any salt to the pot. The slums of the Ninth Security Zone relied entirely on coarsely processed rock salt, which tasted bitter and astringent. It was normally added to wild vegetable soup because most of those greens were bitter themselves, naturally masking the salt’s terrible flavor. But today, she was cooking wild yams. She had sneakily tasted a bit while chopping them out in the wild; they were crisp, sweet, and delicious. Throwing in bitter, coarse salt would only ruin the overall flavor.

While she couldn’t conjure up a true gourmet feast for the family right away, she could at least make sure tonight’s meal didn’t taste disgusting.

The large pot of thick wild yam paste was finally ready. A wonderful aroma drifted through the air, causing the four children to secretly gulp. Looking at the sheer volume in the pot, they knew they would be getting a share. They hadn’t expected their adoptive mother to be so generous today, actually willing to feed them such a thick stew.

Rusty even began to complain inwardly. He thought that since the yam soup was already this thick, there was absolutely no need to waste a Nutrition Block. Or, adding just half the amount of yam would have been more than enough. His adoptive mother was being a total spendthrift. Even if she had stumbled upon a windfall, she shouldn’t squander it like this, right?

Sev had no idea she was currently being silently berated by her eldest "son" for her reckless spending. All she wanted tonight was for every single cub to have a full meal. When they were with their vicious original mother, starvation had been the norm. But from now on, under her care, they would absolutely eat their fill. Otherwise, her transmigration into this world would have been completely in vain!

Around the small solid wood table, the four children cradled their bowls, taking tiny, careful bites of the soft, fluffy wild yams.

Oh my goodness! This stuff was unbelievably delicious! In all their lives, they had never tasted anything this amazing! It melted in their mouths, leaving behind a subtle, sweet fragrance. Forgive their limited vocabulary, but they simply couldn’t find the words to describe just how good it was.

The youngest, Rose, finally couldn’t hold back. "Mom, it’s so good! Now that we’ve eaten this, do we get to go to Heaven?"

"Heaven" was the grandest superlative the four-year-old knew. Whenever she encountered something beautifully indescribable, she used "going to Heaven" to express it.

The moment those words left her mouth, the other three kids’ eyes went round with terror! Being older than little Rose, they knew perfectly well that "going to Heaven" meant dying.

Could it be... was their adoptive mother feeding them the legendary last meal? They had heard stories from older folks before about prisoners being given a lavish feast before their execution, letting them eat their fill before sending them to the chopping block.

Their adoptive mother usually did nothing but beat and scold them. Starving them was her default setting. Yet today, she had brought back heaps of supplies, refrained from hitting them, and even cooked such a delectable dinner!

When things are abnormally good, there must be a sinister catch! Could she be plotting to keep all those delicious wild yams for herself? Was that why she was feeding them a hearty final meal, only to send them to their deaths?

Coupling this with the poisonous mushrooms she had brought home today, the morbid theory suddenly gained terrifying traction. At that thought, the three older children turned their horrified gazes toward the yard, locking onto the torn mat where the toxic mushrooms were currently drying.