Byrne's eyelid twitched when he saw the pointer select Number Fourteen.
Heh. Is this really a random selection?
He couldn't help but wonder if the Baron had secretly tampered with the wheel to target Number Fourteen. Byrne wasn't the only one; Number Fourteen himself looked slightly surprised by the result. However, he quickly regained his composure and adjusted his suit.
"Heh. It seems the Baron is paying special attention to me," Number Fourteen said. "I just wonder if my soul has enough weight."
As soon as he finished speaking, Number Fourteen raised his hands, closed his eyes, and began to recite. Soon, a wisp of dark grey light drifted from his head and landed on the left tray of the scales. In the next second, the tray sank abruptly, bringing the two sides nearly to a balance.
Baron Blackmist let out a chuckle. "Oh, interesting. Much stronger than the previous two. Unfortunately, it's still not quite enough."
Number Fourteen slowly opened his eyes. Looking at the scales with a calm expression, he said with a hint of disappointment, "Heh. I thought one try would be enough."
Though he appeared calm on the surface, he knew internally that the sensation of offering his soul was anything but pleasant. After Number Fourteen supplemented the weight, the light on the scales turned into a streak of radiance and plunged into the Soul-Devouring Pot below.
A few seconds later, a black roasting pan rose from the pot. Its edges were carved with interlocking thorn patterns, and in the center sat a tomahawk steak seared to a slight char. The pan drifted slowly toward Number Fourteen, the aroma of sauce and steak instantly filling the air.
"Mr. Fourteen, this is your exclusive Soul Main Course—the Thorny Steak. Enjoy it."
With the previous two as examples, Number Fourteen calmly glanced at the tomahawk steak. Then, he looked at Baron Blackmist and asked a question that caught everyone off guard.
"Baron, I need to confirm something first. I don't have to eat the bone, do I?"
In any ordinary restaurant, a waiter hearing such a question would think they had encountered a lunatic. But this was different. This was a dinner party governed by Rules; under such circumstances, Number Fourteen's caution was perfectly reasonable.
Baron Blackmist's red eyes narrowed slightly, and the mist around him ebbed as if he found the question amusing. "Number Fourteen, you are indeed cautious. The Rules explicitly state that the main course must be finished in its entirety. Naturally, that includes the bone."
Good grief. He really has to eat the bone?
Hearing this, Byrne's mouth twitched as he looked down at his own empty plate. He hoped his Soul Main Course wouldn't include any bizarre "scraps." The other invitees held their breath, their eyes fixed on Number Fourteen, curious to see how this "brave soul" who repeatedly challenged the Baron would handle this dish.
Having received a definitive answer, Number Fourteen speared a small piece of steak and put it in his mouth without hesitation. The moment it touched his tongue, his brow furrowed.
The taste of the steak was unexpectedly normal. The spice of black pepper wrapped around the firm meat, and he could even taste the char of a charcoal grill. It was no different from a steak in a high-end Western restaurant. But in a place distorted by Rules, being "too normal" was the greatest abnormality of all.
Baron Blackmist watched him with interest. "How is it? Does this thorny flavor meet your expectations?"
Number Fourteen continued to chew. The pepper exploded on his taste buds, and the meat was firm and springy. Even the charcoal char was perfectly replicated. After swallowing, he looked at the Baron and said flatly, "It's like any ordinary steak. I don't taste anything special."
The Baron smiled thinly. "Take a bite of the bone. That is the essence of this dish."
Number Fourteen did not hesitate. He put down his knife and fork, picked up the steak with his hands, and bit down on a protruding part of the bone. To his surprise, the seemingly hard bone was exceptionally crispy, with a texture somewhere between cartilage and tendon.
However, after a few chews, his expression changed abruptly. Hidden within that crispy texture were countless hair-thin needles. It wasn't physical pain, but a burning sensation that spread from his taste buds—as if he had swallowed a handful of red-hot thorns. The stinging pain traveled from his tongue down into his throat, carrying an indescribable, bitter ache.
Baron Blackmist said with a playful smirk, "This thorny taste is a fitting match for the stubbornness hidden in your bones. You provoke me repeatedly not because you aren't afraid of death, but because you use defiance to mask your unease."
As these words were spoken, a shadow fell over Number Fourteen's eyes. He stopped speaking, holding the steak with both hands and taking bite after bite. Before long, the large steak was gone. He then leaned back against his chair and stopped moving. Just like Number Eleven, he fell into a trance.
Number Fourteen leaned back with his eyes closed, his usually upright shoulders slightly hunched. His Adam's apple bobbed occasionally as if he were swallowing something, and a faint, muffled groan escaped his lips. He was clearly enduring immense pain. Byrne watched him closely and saw what looked like tiny threads moving beneath the skin of his neck.
Baron Blackmist toyed with his cane. "Stubborn souls always have to suffer more. The unease hidden under a hard shell will eventually be pierced by thorns."
As the Baron finished, a dark grey light began to flow from Number Fourteen toward the Soul-Devouring Pot. As his green fire extinguished, the pot lid opened to receive the light. When the lid opened again, a new dish flew out toward the Baron.
Once the mist cleared, it revealed a uniquely shaped metal bowl containing a square cake. The Baron picked up a silver spoon and took a small bite. He squinted his glowing red eyes as the mist surged violently around him, clearly savoring the taste.
"Truly magnificent. A soul woven from stubbornness and unease is indeed more delicious than simple greed."
Minutes passed. While the Baron was enjoying the soul delicacy, a transformation occurred. At the other end of the table, Number Fourteen's eyes gradually turned blood-red. His mouth twitched involuntarily, and the threads moving under his neck became clearer, bulging through the skin to form an interlocking pattern of thorns.
He tried to raise his hands to tear at his neck, but his limbs were bound by invisible ropes. He could only emit suppressed low growls, his voice filled with extreme pain and resentment, yet he couldn't utter a single complete word.
Baron Blackmist put down his silver spoon and shook his head at Number Fourteen. "Alas, why struggle so hard? Give up already. The more you resist, the deeper the thorns will take root in your soul. To disguise fragility with defiance... in the end, you will be consumed by your own mask."