Chapter 9 – The Fork Incident and Other Tragedies

Yesterday had been, without a doubt, the strangest day of her life.

First, she found out she was "destined" to be the mate of an eldritch being.

Then, she had to drag him around her estate like an overgrown lost puppy.

Then, he had tossed her into a bath fully clothed.

And to top it all off, at some point during the night, she’d found herself actually laughing with him.

This is a problem.

She groaned and rolled over in bed, burying her face into her pillow.

“Maybe if I stay like this, I’ll stop existing.”

A knock at the door.

“Elena, young master Carrion is waiting for you in the dining hall,” a maid called.

Elena’s soul left her body.

Elena dragged herself to the dining hall, mentally preparing for whatever nonsense Carrion was going to pull today.

Sure enough—

She walked in and immediately regretted her life choices.

Carrion was seated at the long dining table, fork in hand, staring at it like it was a puzzle crafted by the gods themselves.

Her father sat across from him, sweating.

Her mother sipped her tea, completely ignoring the chaos.

Elena hesitated.

“…What’s happening?”

Carrion turned to her, holding up the fork.

“Elena. This is a weapon.”

Her father coughed violently.

Her mother patted his back.

Elena sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“No, Carrion. It’s for eating.”

Carrion did not look convinced.

“…You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes.”

Carrion stared at the fork suspiciously.

Then, as if testing a theory, he stabbed his own hand with it.

Everyone froze.

Elena's father nearly had a heart attack.

Her mother didn’t even blink.

The fork bent on impact.

Carrion held up the ruined utensil, nodding.

“…It is weak.”

Elena sat down and slammed her forehead onto the table.

After Carrion’s tragic battle with the fork, breakfast proceeded… somewhat normally.

Elena picked at her food, still trying to process her life.

Her parents, meanwhile, seemed to have moved on to an even worse topic.

“So,” her father started, eyeing Carrion carefully.

“You’re my daughter’s… mate?”

Carrion nodded.

“Yes.”

Elena choked on her orange juice.

Her father shifted uncomfortably.

“That’s… quite the responsibility.”

Carrion tilted his head.

“…Is it?”

Elena’s father grimaced.

“Of course! Dating my daughter means protecting her, supporting her, being a respectable partner—”

Carrion nodded. “I see. Then I will protect her.”

Elena paused.

That… was actually kind of sweet?

Her father stroked his beard.

“…And what if someone else tries to date her?”

Carrion blinked.

Then, without hesitation—

“I will remove them.”

Elena’s father slammed his fist on the table in approval.

“Good man.”

Elena stared at them in horror.

“DAD?!”

Her mother finally spoke, sipping her tea with a serene expression.

“Well, dear, let’s be honest. Who else would date you?”

Elena almost fell out of her chair.

“WHAT KIND OF MOTHER SAYS THAT?!”

Carrion, meanwhile, seemed pleased.

“Then it is decided,” he said.

Elena turned to him in absolute disbelief.

“WHAT is decided?!”

Carrion looked at her, as if the answer was obvious.

“You will be mine.”

Elena wanted to crawl under the table and die.

After somehow surviving breakfast and an entire conversation about her “relationship,” Elena found herself walking through the estate again.

With Carrion following her.

Again.

She sighed.

“This is my life now,” she muttered.

Carrion, walking beside her, seemed completely unbothered.

“Elena.”

She glanced at him, already exhausted.

“What?”

Carrion held up something in his hand.

A shiny silver spoon.

Elena stopped walking.

“…Carrion.”

He turned to her, dead serious.

“This is also a weapon.”

Elena threw her hands in the air.

“I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE.”