24 The Lying Cook

After changing into clean clothes, I stepped in front of the mage. He looked me over silently, then walked deeper into the cave, telling me to follow. And we were definitely not heading back to our camp—we were going in the opposite direction, lit by a torch that had appeared in his hand from who-knows-where.

“Where are you taking me?” I finally let curiosity win. “This cave is so deep… like a real labyrinth.”

“The Shinir Caves are a chain of interconnected caverns,” the brunette explained. “Long ago, the ancient Shinir lived here—a short people with highly developed trade. They connected many caves into a complicated labyrinth of rooms and tunnels. They did this so that thieves wouldn’t be able to reach them and steal the wealth their settlement earned. Plenty of those seeking easy profit died in here, because the Shinir themselves were not a warlike people at all. In battle, they posed no threat whatsoever. They were as defenseless as children. But thanks to their intelligence, they managed to protect themselves for many years. So don’t wander too far on your own.”

When Kays wasn’t trying to act like the leader of all bastards, he was actually interesting to listen to—and surprisingly informative.

“So where are the Shinir now?” I asked, watching him lead me toward a strange wall in one of the cavern rooms.

“They say an unknown sickness struck them, forcing them to abandon this place. Many of their kind died, unfortunately. Their descendants still live to this day, but not in caves anymore—they live together with everyone else.”

“What is this place?” I shift my gaze to the wall, which is covered in… some kind of disgusting slime, its colors reminding me of those rainbow gasoline streaks on water, only on a black surface.

My eyes nearly pop out when I see Kays casually scoop up that dark-purple goo—so that’s its real color—with two fingers… and put it in his mouth!

“Ew!” I grimace, staring at the smiling mage, and honestly, I almost threw up. “Are you insane? Didn’t your parents tell you as a kid not to put gross stuff in your mouth?”

“You shouldn’t judge so quickly, prepedollie,” he laughs, then scoops up more of that nastiness and brings it toward me.

“Uh, no! I literally just ate, and I don’t want my food coming back up!” I try pushing away the guy’s insolent hand, but he only laughs harder.

“For your information, I’m actually trying to be polite here,” the brunette teases, still insisting. “Just try a tiny bit. Imagine something you’d want to eat right now and lick at least a drop.”

No one has ever tried to convince me to eat unknown crap scraped off a wall. Not even when I was a toddler. I stare at Kays’s fingers, doubting my entire existence. But from the look on his face, I know he won’t leave me alone.

Squeezing my eyes shut for some reason, I imagine my mom’s apple charlotte. Then I open them, look at the brunette, and slowly lick his finger.

I see his Adam’s apple twitch nervously, and his eyes darken a shade. But I can’t focus on him, because suddenly I taste my mom’s charlotte in my mouth!

“How is this even possible?!” I gasp, unable to believe what I’m tasting.

“This is achtopa-tori, also called the ‘lying cook,’” the handsome man explains cryptically. “It’s a type of microscopic fungus that can deceive your brain and your taste buds. You imagine some food you once tried, something your brain still remembers the taste of. These fungi activate the memory cell that stores that flavor and let your brain recreate it when consuming this substance. Normally, I don’t eat mushrooms—they make my whole body itch like crazy—but these ones don’t trigger my allergies.”

“Incredible,” I breathe out, amazed, and scoop some of that ‘cook’ myself, imagining cheesy pizza.

And—oh gods!—the taste of melted parmesan spreads across my tongue.

“Why are you showing me this?” curiosity gets the best of me, because he certainly didn’t bother bringing any other girls here. My heart is pounding out of my chest, and I’m definitely not expecting a love confession, but still—this is interesting and nerve-racking. For some reason, I want to hear that I’m not completely insignificant to this man.