The Beloved Granny of the Death Game
Chapter 4
His throat no longer made that beastly growling noise.
Instead, it turned into a huge, wet gulping sound.
My actions once again shocked those who were watching the live broadcast.
[You’ve gotta be kidding me. Granny’s cooking in a horror dungeon?]
[Pickled cabbage and potato stew! Holy crap, I can smell it through the screen! That’s insane!]
[Wait, did the Hungry Dead’s drool just… turn clear? It’s not bloody anymore?]
[Help! Why am I actually getting hungry watching this? That can’t be right!]
The pot kept bubbling until the potatoes turned soft. The broth boiled, and the rich aroma filled the room.
I stirred it with a cracked old spoon, scooped up a steaming mouthful, blew on it, and held it right under the boy’s nose.
“Look at you, drooling all over the place! Eat it while it’s hot, don’t just stand there gaping.
“A full belly’s the only way you’ll grow strong!”
The boy snatched the spoon right out of my hand. He did not even care that it was boiling hot. He shoved the whole spoonful into his mouth.
“Slurp—ahh!”
The heat made him suck in breath through his teeth, but he could not stop.
He crouched on the floor, hugging the chipped clay pot, shoveling the soup into his mouth with both hands.
He made urgent, greedy sounds that soon turned into satisfied grunts.
[Congratulations, player. You’ve earned the Hungry Dead’s approval. From now on, you won’t feel hunger in the game.]
“Slow down! No one’s fighting you for it!”
I nagged him, unable to help myself.
“You’ll choke, silly child. If you like it that much, I will make it for you every day…”
The boy finally lifted his head. The pickled cabbage and potato mush was smeared on his lips, and there was a human expression on his gaunt, ghastly face for the first time.
He looked at the half-empty pot in his arms, then at me. The feral light in his green eyes slowly faded.
He licked his cracked lips. “It’s… so good.”
“That’s right. It’s good!
“My cooking used to be top-notch back in the village, let me tell you!”
I raised my chin proudly.
“But listen, kid. No more gnawing on random people when you’re starving. Just come and find me, and I’ll cook for you!”
For the next few days, I, a creaky old lady, somehow turned into the dormitory’s shared granny.
Armed with nothing but my flowery padded coat and my legendary pickled cabbage stew, I went door to door, knocking on rooms.
In Dorm 2103, I found a wailing banshee ghost curled up in the corner, sobbing and soaking the whole room with damp misery.
I whipped out my big peony handkerchief and wiped her nose and eyes without hesitation.
“What’s all this crying for? Crying doesn’t fill your stomach! Tell me what happened. Who bullied you? I’ll stand up for you!”
The banshee blinked at me, totally stunned, and forgot how to cry momentarily.
Dorm 3104 had a hot-tempered poltergeist smashing things left and right.
I marched right in and yelled, “You’re a grown man! Why are you throwing tantrums? Do you think breaking stuff makes you tough? If you’ve got strength, use it where it counts! Now get over here and help me fix this busted stool leg!”
He glared, ready to explode until I shot him a sharp look. Then, unbelievably, he slumped over and went digging for nails.
Those who were watching the live broadcast became active again.
[No way! There’s just no way! Granny’s turned this horror dungeon into a dorm-mediator reality show.]
[The ghosts are going completely off-script! Did that poltergeist just… fix a chair for her?]
[Mrs. Wade, you’re amazing!]
As I went from room to room, handing out warmth and lectures, I became the brightest thing in the whole gloomy dormitory.
The surviving players, who had been hiding in corners and living in fear, were now watching with their eyes about to pop out.
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