Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

CHAPTER 163: A Meal, A Moment, A Miracle - Not All Doors Are Closed

The girl's pulse steadied slightly when she realized she was alone. What's more, the room didn't feel like a prison—there were no bruising chains binding her limbs. Instead, she found herself wrapped in soft sheets. And opposed to the damp walls and oppressive darkness of a cell, the quiet, clean space around her was warm and soothing.

In contrast to her fears, the room was a bright and airy haven, bathed in natural sunlight that streamed in through the windows. The girl's gaze captured the floral patterns adorning the bedding and curtains as she glanced around, giving the space a girly charm, while soft pastel tones added a comforting warmth. Delicate decorations, like framed paintings, hanging trinkets, and plush toys, created a cozy, lived-in feel.

This was the first time she had ever slept in such a calm and peaceful place. The sensation was unfamiliar, almost indescribable—surreal and heartwarming all at once. Yet, the longer she lingered on the thought, the more doubt crept in. It was clear that this level of comfort couldn't possibly be meant for her. Surely, she was intruding on someone else's sanctuary.

The girl knew that until she fully understood her circumstances, the tension coiling in her chest would refuse to ease, leaving her unsettled despite the warmth around her.

With as little noise as possible, she eased the sheets aside and shifted her weight toward the edge of the bed. Her eyes darted nervously around the room as she swung her legs over, lowering one foot and then the other. Her toes met the cool wooden floor, and she let out a muted sigh of relief when the boards didn't betray her with a creak.

Step by cautious step, she moved toward the door, her heart climbing into her throat with every inch of progress. From her experience, tragedy always struck when it was least expected. What if this plush, inviting room was nothing more than a cruel illusion—a trap designed to lull her into a false sense of security? What if the moment her guard slipped—

CREAKK~

The door opened to a slight ajar as she tentatively peeked outside.

"Well, look who's finally awake," came the soft remark of a man seated at the dining room table. His back was turned, shoulders hunched as he methodically ground a mixture of ingredients into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle.

Meanwhile, a woman stood by a medieval stovetop, deftly plating freshly cooked eggs, bacon, and sausages. "No need to be shy, sweetie," she said warmly, carrying the steaming dishes over to the table. Her tone shifted as she turned to the man. "And you, dear—how many times have I told you? No pharmaceutical work at the dining table. You know better."

The man raised his hands in surrender, pushing the utensils aside with a sheepish grin. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry," he chimed playfully before turning his attention to the little girl who was still hiding behind the door. "You know," he began with a coaxing smile, "bacon's best when it's hot. Don't miss out on a life-changing experience. Lefahne's cooking is nothing short of legendary!"

"Oh, you flatterer," the woman muttered, her cheeks glowing at the praise as she set a basket of freshly baked rolls in the center of the table. Her warm smile lingered as she turned to their timid guest. "You need to take care of yourself, sweetheart," she said softly. "Your body's been through a lot—it's no wonder you fainted yesterday. A good meal will help you heal."

Before the little girl could press her lips together in defiance, her stomach betrayed her, growling loudly enough to echo through the room. The sound might as well have been a trumpet announcing her desperation, and her face turned a vivid shade of pink in embarrassment. Yet, the gnawing ache in her belly refused to let her dwell on such feelings.

As if being pulled by an invisible thread, she took a tentative step toward the table, her gaze locked on the food. Each step felt heavy, her instincts battling the remnants of her fear. Still, logic whispered softly, soothing her frayed nerves. If these people had meant her harm, surely they would've acted while she was unconscious. The fact that they hadn't spoke volumes.