The voice was low and slow, as if whispering right behind my ear, carrying a damp, clammy breath. Every syllable felt like a footstep pressed onto my chest.

  I spun around at once—

  Only to find no one there.

  “System…” My voice trembled. “Are—are you there?”

  The system had, of course, crashed again.

  A chill crawled up my scalp. I scrambled onto the bed in a half-roll, half-climb, yanked the blanket over my head.

  But—

  The breathing didn’t fade.

  It grew closer.

  Closer still.

  Right beside my ear.

  “Don’t tell me—it’s that ‘Impostor’ thing… coming to eat me now…”

  Gritting my teeth, I peeled open a small gap in the blanket, holding my breath as I peeked out—

  And a hot, wet tongue slapped across my face without warning.

  “Holy—aaAAAHHHHH—!”

  I screamed, rolled straight off the bed, and slammed my back against the bedframe so hard I gasped.

  Then I finally saw it.

  A huge yellow dog—its head bigger than my pillow—sat by the bedside, head tilted, showing all its teeth in something like a grin. Its tongue hung down its chin, but its eyes were fierce like a night fiend.

  “…Wait.” My hand shook. “And who are you?”

  The yellow dog didn’t answer. Instead, it stepped forward and pressed its nose against my chest, sniffing, letting out a low, throaty whine.

  I backed up until I was plastered to the wall, frozen stiff.

  “I—I don’t smell like stew, okay? Don’t bite me, brother! I’m a vegetarian!”

  The dog bared its teeth. Its tail slapped the floor with a loud thump, the very picture of:

  Keep talking nonsense and I’m chewing your leg off.

  I darted a glance at the tightly locked door, then at the dog, misery rising like a tide.

  Just when I started to question whether my life had truly sunk low enough to be eaten as a midnight snack by a dog, a gentle woman’s voice floated through the door:

  “No need to fear, honored guest. Da Huang does not bite. So long as you don’t move about, it won’t frighten you. Rest easy for a few days. Once my husband settles the matter at hand, we’ll release you.”

  I rushed toward the door.

  “Hey—hey! Miss! What do you mean by ‘settle the matter’? What does your husband do? He’s not—he’s not a butcher, is he?!”

  No response. Only her footsteps fading down the hall.

  I stared blankly for a moment. When I turned around—

  I froze.

  A wooden tray sat by the door, steaming. Three dishes, one soup, one bowl of rice. The aroma curled gently through the air—surprisingly refined. Braised pork, steamed perch, stir-fried pea shoots, a mushroom broth, and freshly steamed white rice.

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  I blinked.

  “Uh? This is the treatment for a kidnapping victim? That’s… above hostage budget.”

  But the word ‘settle’ still hung over my head like a curse. The shadow in my heart wouldn’t lift. I looked to the room’s only living creature.

  “Da Huang.”

  The dog’s ears twitched at its name. It obediently stepped back to a corner, curled up, and began licking its paws like a dedicated security guard.

  “Come on,” I forced a smile. “We may not know each other, but life and death have bonded us. Want to… test a piece of meat first?”

  I held a piece of braised pork under its nose.

  Da Huang sniffed—

  And didn’t move.

  My eyebrow twitched. I tried steamed fish.

  Same result. A sniff, no reaction. It even yawned.

  “…”

  “You… why aren’t you eating?” I stared at it. “You’re a dog, right? Shouldn’t you at least look at the meat? How are you pickier than I am?”

  The dog lazily turned over, tail slapping the floor in annoyance.

  A cold shiver ran down my spine.

  It didn’t eat. Didn’t look. Didn’t care.

  This… wasn’t how a normal dog behaved.

  The meal on the tray smelled heavenly. My stomach growled like thunder.

  “System,” I whispered, “run a check—any poison in this food?”

  Silence.

  The system continued playing dead.

  I gritted my teeth. “If pretending to be dead helped, you’d have ascended long ago! I’m starving to death here. If you don’t show up, I’m really eating it!”

  Nothing.

  I glared at the bowl. My eye twitched.

  “…You better not be faking death just to save battery. If I die, you’re going down with me.”

  Da Huang yawned again, half-opening an eye like it was watching a comedy.

  I sighed, swallowed my fear, and finally—

  Took a sip of the soup. Mild, clean taste.

  A bite of pea shoots. Crisp.

  “…Looks like human food, tastes like human food.”

  I tried the braised pork. Shockingly good—rich, tender, flavorful.

  Before long I was wolfing it down, muttering between bites,

  “Let’s think this through—the man’s strong, acts well, probably the mastermind; the woman’s gentle, seems… conflicted? Maybe being forced into this.”

  Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Da Huang again—

  The dog that nearly sent my soul flying earlier.

  It sat upright in the corner, staring at me quietly. Not a sound. Not a twitch toward the food.

  I froze, chopsticks suspended mid-air.

  “System,” I whispered. “Do you think… this dog doesn’t eat?”

  Silence.

  I could only reason for myself.

  “Look—any normal dog, with meat this fragrant, would’ve lunged already. It didn’t blink. So that means—even if the food isn’t poisoned…”

  I looked at the meal.

  Then at myself.

  “…”

  My breath stopped. I withdrew the chopsticks sharply.

  “…Shit. Don’t tell me—this is the last meal in my life?”

  My mind kicked into overdrive.

  “That woman told me to ‘rest easy for a few days,’ and that man—he looked at me like he’d just spotted prey. Then he said, ‘Forgive the humble state of my home’… They weren’t hosting a guest. They were—raising ingredients!”

  The more I thought about it, the worse it got.

  “Holy—no way, are they actually pig spirits?! In Lian’s stories, pig demons can take human form, so what if they’re pretending to be a couple, luring people home, fattening them up for a few days, and then eating them raw—”

  Suddenly, in my mind, Da Huang’s tongue-lolling from earlier replayed itself.

  That wasn’t cute.

  That was tasting.

  “I…” I whispered. “Don’t tell me I’m already in the pre-meal marination stage?”

  Da Huang finally moved. He lifted his head, gave me a look, slowly licked his lips… and somehow, his eyes were full of pity.

  I shot both hands up. “Don’t come over here! Even if you’re their guard dog, you can’t start with psychological warfare! If—if that meal was yours, I’ll compensate you! I’ll buy you a whole sack of sausages! The mild ones!”

  He ignored me completely, yawned, and flopped back down.

  Shaking, I inched back to the bed, yanked the blanket over myself, mumbling as I hid under it, “I’m done for, I’m so done. I’ve fallen straight into a monster foodie household, haven’t I? The ‘husband and wife’ are demons, the dog’s the enforcer, I’m the entrée, and the system’s on strike… This script is way too dark!”

  Just as I pulled the blanket over my head, the system finally chimed in:

  【Your current mental state is unstable. Recommend ceasing all hallucinations.】

  “You’re finally awake?! Then tell me—does my analysis have flaws?”

  The system fell silent for three seconds.

  【…Based on the current logic chain, all possibilities remain open.】

  “Can’t you say something comforting?!”

  【You… smell acceptable?】

  “…”

  “I’m going to sleep. Stop talking. You’re annoying.”