Chapter 67: Too Sweet, But Tastes Wonderful

[Guests may request service politely.]

"Oh..." Deon muttered. "So asking nicely is still on the table."

He took a step forward, clearing his throat. "Excuse me, can I please have the—"

The attendant hurled the sugar jar straight at his head.

"Shit!"

Deon ducked as the glass jar flew over him and shattered against the pavilion pillar, spilling white grains across the grass like snow. "You have got to be kidding me."

The sugar scattered across the lawn, quickly sinking between the blades of grass. Some of it dissolved into the damp soil instantly, disappearing like the garden itself was eating it.

[Guests are advised to maintain proper etiquette.]

"Proper etiquette my ass!"

Another attendant lunged at him from the left, silver fork raised like a dagger. Deon twisted aside and swung his katana, cutting its shoulder.

The attendant stumbled, body splitting into mist for half a second before reforming just a few steps away.

Tch. Cutting them really is pointless.

Across the garden, the same realization had reached everyone else. Contestants were no longer fighting to win, only fighting to survive.

The spear user kept the ghosts at bay with wide, panicked thrusts. The owl-masked woman had overturned a table and was hiding behind it while two attendants slowly tried to drag it away from her.

Deon sighed softly. "One sugar jar was gone. That doesn’t mean there aren’t others."

His eyes scanned the serving carts, the tables, the ghostly attendants moving through the chaos—Tea tins, kettles, cups, plates, cakes, cream, jam...

There! Near the one with the milk!

"Vivian!" Deon shouted.

She glanced over while leaning away from a carving knife. "Busy!"

"Clone!"

"Already ahead of you."

Her clone had intercepted the attendant with the milk pitcher while Deon dashed toward the newly spotted sugar-bearer.

The milk attendant moved first. Its arm snapped forward, the pitcher swinging like a club. Vivian’s clone slid under it, hand reaching for the handle—

Only for the attendant to tilt the pitcher. Milk spilled out onto the green grass.

"No!" Hana cried.

Deon’s eyes widened. "Don’t let it hit the ground!"

Without thinking, he threw out his hand.

"[Trip!]"

The attendant’s foot caught, its body swayed violently before eventually falling, milk pitcher flying from its hand.

It spun in the air, yet both Deon and Vivian weren’t close enough to reach it. But that was when, from behind, Hana dashed straight at it.

She didn’t have Deon’s confidence nor Vivian’s instincts, but she still ran toward it anyway.

"Hana!" Deon shouted.

The dove-masked girl threw herself forward with both hands out. The pitcher hit her palms, knocking her down hard enough that her knees scraped across the grass.

A splash of milk spilled over her fingers. But most of it stayed inside.

Hana stared at the pitcher in disbelief. "I got it!"

[Ingredient Secured.]

[Milk: Usable.]

Deon let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. "Good!"

But while he was spectating the others, he hadn’t realized how close the sugar attendant had come to him. It raised the tongs, and went straight for his eye.

Deon ducked before delivering a kick straight at its stomach. The attendant collapsed backward, causing the bowl of sugar to flip into the air, white cubes spilling from its rim.

He barely managed to jump up and catch it before everything fell out.

[Ingredient Secured.]

[Sugar: Usable.]

[Quantity Reduced: One Serving Remaining.]

"Damn it...I should’ve been quicker."

Hana pushed herself up from the grass, still holding the milk pitcher with both hands. Her knees were stained green and scraped red, but the pitcher remained upright.

"D-Deon!" she called. "What now?!"

"We just need the tea! Vivian, please tell me you found it!"

When no answer came, Deon’s stomach dropped. Vivian Queen always had something to say, but silence from her usually had bad connotations.

He snapped his head toward the serving cart. "Vivian?"

She was there, but completely surrounded. Her clone had already been pinned against the side of the pavilion by two attendants, its body flickering at the edges as a silver knife stabbed through its shoulder again and again.

The real Vivian stood in the middle, breathing hard as she kicked one attendant away before ducking under another’s knife.

But the problem was no longer just attendants but guests as well. The seated figures, who had only watched until now, rose one by one and joined the chaos.

A woman in a swan mask picked up a porcelain plate before throwing it. The plate spun through the air like a blade and sliced across the spear user’s cheek, making him stumble backward with a shout.

"What the hell?!"

"Damn it," Deon muttered. "At this rate..."

"Deon!" 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

A voice cut through the chaos, but it was neither Hana’s nor Vivian’s. Deon turned toward the source, the far side of the garden, only to see three figures running toward him.

Jin was sprinting with both hands clutched around something bright red. His deer mask sat crooked on his face, one antler already cracked. Both twins ran on his side, with Nami pushing an attendant that got too close and Mina pulling another to make them fall.

"We’ve got it!"

Deon stared at the red object in his hands, eyes widening. It was a fresh, blooming rose.

He rushed toward Jin and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

"Just some small scratches," Jin wheezed, handing over the rose. "Here, take it!"

Deon nodded, snatching the rose from his hand before his eyes finally snapped back to Rosaline, still seated beneath the pavilion.

"Hana! It’s time!"

The girl nodded, and together, they sprinted toward the pavilion. A few specters tried to get in their way, but were pushed away or pulled apart by the twins behind them.

Deon managed to grab the empty cup on the table, and almost immediately, the rose from his hand had transformed itself into a piping hot teapot that almost made him flinch.

But he remained steadfast, pouring the light colored tea into the cup. Hana followed up, pouring milk into it until the pale red softened into a cloudy pink.

Finally, Deon placed the bowl on the table, grabbing the tongs and remembering what Elliot had done.

"One...two...three...four..." Deon counted, putting the cubes into the tea.

They dissolved as soon as they touched the liquid, causing the surface to shine softly, almost like clouds in a sunny sky.

The garden, which had been swallowed by chaos only moments ago, suddenly went quiet...at least, to them.

Deon stared at it, and for some reason, his fingers tightened around the edge of the table. He wasn’t hesitant...exactly, but it felt weird having to step in between their affairs.

The cup in front of him wasn’t simply just milk tea, but a kid’s sincerity...a present to his mother that he so carefully prepared.

[Tea Prepared.]

[Please serve Lady Rosaline.]

Even before serving it, Deon could tell. Her hands were folded in her lap, but her fingers were trembling.

Hana noticed too. Her breath caught beside him, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something.

Deon reached for the cup before she could, and pushed it toward Lady Rosaline. For a second, no words came.

He hated everything about this mansion. In fact, he should be cursing this woman out for trying to kill everyone.

But all he could muster...was a favor instead. "This isn’t from me..."

Rosaline’s eyes met his, arm already reaching for the small porcelain cup on the table.

"It’s from your naive youngest," Deon continued. "He was wrong about the tea, but..."

"I don’t think he was wrong about you."

The Lady lifted the cup to her mouth, liquid sloshing until it touched her lips.

"Even if it’s too late...please make peace with yourself."

Rosaline drank.

[Tea Offered.]

[Judging...]

For a few seconds, the system gave no answer and everything remained as is. Rosaline sat perfectly still with the cup held near her lips.

At first, Deon thought she might reject it. Or worse, they’d all die from his hubris...from what he assumed he had understood.

Yet, in the next moment, there was no other sound...but a soft sob.

The rose mask on her face cracked. A thin line split down one petal before another followed. Then another.

Piece by piece, the painted flower began to fall away from her face, the fragments breaking apart before they could even touch the table. They scattered into pale pink dust, drifting through the air like petals caught in a wind that no one else could feel.

Beneath the mask was not a monster, but a broken woman who had been sitting alone with her regrets for too long.

Her fingers curled around the teacup with fragile care, like she was afraid it would break if held too tightly.

"It is..." Her voice trembled softly. "Too sweet."

Yet, her lips curved—not enough to erase the grief from her face...but enough to make the bitterness in her expression just a tiny bit better.

"But..." A tear slipped down her cheek. "It tastes wonderful."

[Proper Tea Served.]

[Lady Rosaline’s Regret has been soothed.]

The Lady looked up at Deon, her body starting to fade away as the sky cleared up. She opened her mouth, only managing to whisper one finally thing:

"Thank you."

Deon looked away first, clicking his tongue to deny it.

"Don’t thank me," he muttered. "Thank him."

The cup trembled once more in her hands, though not from anger or grief alone.

"Yes..." she whispered. "I suppose I should."

The artificial gray above the garden cracked open, and sunlight seeped through once more.

And the Lady of House Velvet herself...simply faded away, leaving not a speck behind of the bitterness that she once held so tightly.

...

[Sub-Game Cleared]