My boyfriend, who had gone missing for a month, appeared in my soup.The shop was crowded, yet I didn't dare raise my voice. Swallowing down the bile in my throat, I staggered outside, found a secluded corner, and retched until my stomach burned.When I was done, I ran upstairs, locked myself inside, and dialed the police.An hour later, they called back."We've checked," the officer said. "Their ingredients are all sheep offal. As for the tattooed skin you mentioned, we believe it was a standard meat inspection stamp. No missing-person reports have been filed in the city for over six months.""No!" I protested. "That mark wasn't a stamp. It was a tattoo!"The officer sighed, his patience thinning. "Miss, you're overthinking this. We thoroughly inspected their kitchen. My colleagues even tested their soup base. It's not human flesh."Not human flesh? Was I blind?"I'm certain that was my boyfriend's tattoo. And I haven't heard from him in a month!""Oh?" The officer paused, hi
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