Don't Eat Me, Mister Cold

u don't need to prove it," Amber said, forcing her brain to

Mr. Cold asked, n

ermined, I can do anything, like take care of your house. A

rvant in this house?" th

of course. I can get all the dust off the furniture, wash the d

can c

reat food recipes,” Amber nodded,

woman. “Then make me lunch. If your cooking is good, you can b

that I'm a great cook. You won't regret setting me free. Now,

Mister Cold waved a han

ppearing from the man's eyes. She must not w

hile looking towards the kitchen, he muttered. "Wh

sleeves so that his wrists could be seen. While takin

hat stupid woman still has to re

*

omatoes?” Amber sighed as she looked into the pot.

n disgust. The potato wedges looked very ug

,” she thought before sighing anxiously. "Should I j

he didn't use. Not far from there, whole wheat bread was stil

ood at it, even with my eyes closed." After snapping her fi

e third bun, the sound of heavy footsteps was he

mber suddenly stared. Without thinking, the woman dress

plating yet," she exclaimed

ll not done? Really, what are you cooking? Hum

thinking too long. Now, just wait

r tilting his head, he barged in. The woman gasped and immediately panicked.

y are you so impatient?

or the woman to exert strength. In just an instant, Mi

to make three sandwiches?

e and stiff expression. It was obvious that she was hiding some

pointed at the pot stil

… is potato-tomato soup.” The woman real

d of it,” the man mumble

of the pot, Amber stretched out her arms again.

er a few seconds, her back had arrived in front of the stove,

sked in astonishment. “Yo

't know," Amber argued, looking up at the man. She was ready to

potatoes? You think I l

ought, "Oh, that's why t

cooking! Don't you know how many people expect me to be their chef? It's bec

Cold interrupted while glancing

t her chin up. "Yes, it's delicious.

him. A second later, he began to stir the soup and too

food?" the man asked,

ly even though she realize

soup. If you manage to finish it,

, she pointed to the worrying contents of the pot. “You want me to eat it alo

able. “I prefer this sandwich to that mud soup.” A second later,

the bowl. Inside, she really wanted to cry. “How could I possibly finish this

*

he mud soup bad?” Mr. Cold inquired as he fo

uth, Amber could only wave her

arently. Does it mea

ed her throat to swallow. "No. It's tasty. It's ve

n become a servant in this house. Now hurry up and finish your food. A

to eat me?" Amber

servant if your cooking is delicious

ile instantly widened. "What

her back into the chair. "Finish this so

d sinister. She really didn't like the earthy taste of the mud

Casually, Mr. Cold thrust a pi

spoon in front of her. Unfortunately, she had no other choice

secretly smiled. It had been a long time

ke you suffer much more. A man snatcher like you don't deserve