The Table At Splatter

Two weeks before the wedding, I took my parents to dinner at my fiance Derek Matthews's family home in Larkhaven, Franklin. The evening was supposed to be the last planning meeting between both sets of parents, where we would finalize the ceremony and the honor-table seating. I hadn't expected Derek's childhood friend, Paige Bennett, to be there too. Mrs. Matthews suggested a little dinner-table game. Everyone would draw a numbered envelope. Whoever drew the highest number could ask one small favor of whoever drew the lowest. I drew the lowest number. Derek drew the highest. Everyone urged him to make his request. Paige smiled as though she were only joking. "Derek, let me choose for you. "At the wedding, my parents should sit at the honor table." I thought Derek would at least say that a game was a game and wedding arrangements were not prizes to be claimed. Instead, he merely frowned at me. "It's only two seats. "Paige's parents have always been close to our family. "I won the draw, and the rules say you owe me one request. "Don't embarrass everyone over this." I set down my fork, picked up my phone, and posted a message in our family-and-friends group chat. "There has been a change to the wedding seating. My parents will no longer be at the honor table." Derek visibly relaxed. Paige smiled at me through shining eyes. "Thank you, Hannah. I knew you would be generous." I didn't look at her. I simply continued typing. "Because my parents will not be attending this wedding. "Neither will I."

I applied for a popular online job as a personal chef. I thought I'd be cooking simple, home-style meals, but I quickly found myself trapped in a world of surprises. The food they were craving was me, served on a platter. The wealthy women were looking for excitement, torturing me night after night. But what they didn't realize was, the real thrill came when the dogs turned on each other.

Right in the middle of the workday, my coworker, Stanley Graham, suddenly jumps up and slaps me on the shoulder. "Next week is Mr. Todd's birthday. Since your family runs a seafood restaurant, I'll tell you what—I'll chip in 99 bucks to treat the whole department at your place to celebrate!" He starts counting dishes on his fingers. "We need lobster and king crab. The fish has to be a fresh-killed red snapper. Don't skimp on the appetizers, and keep the beer and sodas flowing. Oh, and keep an eye on the shellfish. Mr. Todd has gout. Do a good job. Don't embarrass our department." He nudges me with a smirk. "When Mr. Todd walks away happy, he'll probably throw a massive bonus your way. You'll be laughing all the way to the bank. You make money, you get the credit, and the boss is happy. Dylan, you seriously owe me one." I stare at him, completely baffled. My family owns a small diner. Where on earth are we getting seafood from? The moment I flatly refuse, Stanley rolls his eyes and walks off. That night, a sign-up list pops up in the company group chat. "Mr. Todd's birthday is this Saturday! I'm treating everyone to a seafood feast. Eat as much as you want, and you can bring your family too. Add your name to the list if you're in!" The chat immediately erupts into cheers. In less than ten minutes, over 50 people sign up. "My dad's never even had lobster. Thanks to Stanley, he finally gets to experience something new!" "My kid loves tuna. Save a few extra portions for him!" Stanley promises everyone everything. After dropping a location pin in the chat, he transfers 99 dollars to me. "Dylan, take the cash. Make sure the ingredients are top-notch. Don't rip off your own coworkers." I take a closer look at the location and smile. It is the high-end seafood restaurant right next to my family's diner. The owner is a reformed gangster with tattoos climbing all the way up to his jaw. The last guy who tried to walk out on a bill there still can't get out of bed.

I was in the middle of a shift when my coworker, Denise Sutton, popped up out of nowhere and slapped me on the shoulder. "Next week is Gerald's birthday, and your family happens to run a seafood restaurant. So here's the plan — I'll chip in ninety-nine dollars, and we'll all go over to your place for a feast to celebrate." Denise counted off the menu on her fingers. "We need lobster and king crab, the fish has to be live-caught grouper, don't skimp on the appetizers, and stock up on beer and soda. Gerald's got gout, so go easy on the shellfish for him. Make sure everything's perfect — don't embarrass our department." She gave me a playful nudge, waggling her eyebrows. "Once Gerald's happy, he'll cut you a bonus worth a few thousand. Won't that make you happy?" "You get paid, you get noticed, and the boss ends up in a good mood. Amy, you'd better be properly grateful to me." I just stared at her, baffled. My family ran a breakfast counter that sold meat pies. Where exactly was the seafood supposed to come from? I turned Denise down flat. Denise just rolled her eyes and walked off. That night, a sign-up thread went out in the work group chat. "Gerald's birthday party is Saturday. I'm treating everyone to a seafood feast, all you can eat, and you can bring family. Reply if you're coming!" The chat erupted in cheers. In under ten minutes, more than fifty people had signed up. [My dad's never even had lobster. Guess he's finally getting cultured, thanks to Denise!] [My kid's obsessed with tuna. Get extra servings for her.] Denise agreed to everything without hesitation, dropped a location pin in the chat, and sent me ninety-nine dollars. Denise: [Amy, hold onto the money. The ingredients better be fresh — don't you dare shortchange your own coworkers.] I looked at the pinned location and smiled. It was the upscale seafood restaurant next door to my family's shop — owned by a man who'd gone straight a few years back after a rougher life, with tattoos running all the way up to his chin. The last person who'd tried to dine and dash there still hadn't gotten out of bed.

Layla was one of the so-called ‘meat’ to be served at the ‘demon’s table’. When midnight came and the howling of the king resounded in the woods, she knew she would die. With strong determination to fulfill at least one of her lifelong dreams, she ran her mouth and desperately asked her predator a favor in exchange for her complete submission to death. In the eyes of the powerful beast, she was nothing but a talking flesh and so her wish was granted. Little did she know, her life was about to change.Under the moonlight glow, two creatures are fated to meet. It's the fateful encounter that would turn the world filled with traitors of own kind upside down. With hatred and vengeance as the core of the bloody havoc, only those with power can survive.Will the burning love and developed compassion be enough to remedy the pain and anger buried deep in one’s heart? Or would it turn into sharp fangs to destroy those who were against the sheer glow of the light?Perhaps it was Layla’s fate to meet the beast who’d change her life or was it the beast whose life going to be ruined with her fatal schemes.Midnight Feast is now serving…Theoria~

In order to secure the five-million-dollar business deal with a major client, I end up getting hospitalized from overdrinking. On the day I get discharged, I see a text message on my department's group chat. My manager, Robert Spradlin, has tagged everyone in the group chat. "Everyone must attend the celebratory afterparty tonight. We're celebrating the fact that our department has secured the biggest deal of the year!" As I stare at the screen, I feel a hint of warmth bubbling in my heart. Even though Robert is often stingy and loves putting on airs, I'm pretty sure that this is his way of acknowledging my efforts. I specifically go home and change into new clothes. Then, I arrive at the private room right on time. The moment I open the door, I feel a blast of hot air mixed with a strong smell of spice hitting my face. It's so overwhelming that I can't help but cough violently. "Sit, sit! I've specifically ordered these dishes for you!" Kristie Madison, the newly-recruited admin, gushes. But when I take a good look at the dishes, I feel my smile freeze on my face. Spice, spice, and more spice. Kristie has ordered 20 dishes, and yet I can't even stomach every single one.