Chapter 2 — Becoming One with the Devil

The girl with the ponytail covered her mouth tightly, her eyes clearly showing the words "It's over, it's over". The leather jacket guy took a stance, ready to run away at any moment. The woman bent down, stared at the dough hugging her leg, and remained silent for three seconds. Then she spoke, her voice was still soft and easy to hear, but the words she said sent chills down everyone's spines: "The food this time... is this small?" Food. She called the baby “food.” Lam Niem did not understand anything at all, hugged the woman's legs and rubbed her small face, yawning in satisfaction and cuteness. The woman bent down, used two fingers to grab the back of Lam Niem's neck, and picked her up like a kitten. Lam Niem was floating in mid-air, his arms and legs hanging down, his eyes still drowsy and sleepy, completely unaware that he was in a deadly danger because he was "considered food". She raised the girl to eye level, examining her from top to bottom. The distance was too close, so close that one could clearly see what was inside the woman's eyes. Those are not human pupils, but small and long vertical pupils, like a cat's eye, like a snake's eye, dark and curled up at the bottom of the eye socket. "Too small." She mumbled, "Not enough stew in one pot." The leather jacket guy heard this sentence and instinctively took another step back. But out of the corner of his eye he glanced at the others: the checkered shirt guy was trembling, the short fat guy was sweating, the ponytail girl bit her lip and didn't say a word. No one dared to move. The woman lowered Lam Niem a bit, Lam Niem immediately reached out and grabbed her face, her round meaty hand patted her cheek, her mouth laughed. Woman: “…” She frowned in disgust, but still did not throw Lam Niem away. "Forget it." She muttered, "Let's go inside first." Having finished speaking, she carried Lam Niem in one hand and pulled open the iron door with the other. She turned and walked inside. The remaining eight players stood rooted to the spot, in dilemma. "Come in... come in?" The short, fat man's voice trembled. "Do you want to stay out here and wait to die?" The leather jacket guy gritted his teeth, "The scope of the copy is definitely inside the house, outside might be even more dangerous." The guy in the checkered shirt pushed his glasses, trying to use reason to overcome fear: "Just observe. That baby, I don't know if it was due to luck or what mechanism it activated, is temporarily not dead. Let's follow and see what it does." "See what it does?" The girl with the ponytail interrupted, "It's only a few months old, what can it do? Drink milk or poop?" The checkered guy was speechless. There's no way, it's really impossible to refute. In the end, eight people gritted their teeth and followed suit. The door slammed soundlessly behind them. The house was warmer than they imagined. Warm yellow light, beige wallpaper, dining table covered with a tablecloth with small flower patterns, TV cabinet displaying a few photo frames. There's even a yellow tabby cat dozing on the sofa armrest. But everyone's eyes were glued to the sofa. There is a layer of something on the sofa. Not the seat cushions, but… Internal organs. A messy pile, some places were still smoking. The sofa cushion was soaked in blood, turning a dull red-black color. Jammed in the gap of the sofa was half of his knuckle, his fingernails were still painted light pink. The tabby cat yawned, licked its claws, then leisurely stepped on the pile of internal organs There, jump to the ground and leave. The ponytailed girl covered her mouth tightly, swallowing the shrill scream back into her throat. The woman carried Lam Niem to the sofa, intending to put her down. The hand reached halfway then stopped. She looked at the pile of internal organs, then looked at the chubby white child in her arms, frowning. " Dirty." She said. Then, she turned and walked towards the kitchen. As she passed by the door of a room, she called inside: "A Trach, come out and greet me." In the room, there was a dull "thump" sound of something falling to the ground, followed by the sound of footsteps. A teenager appeared at the door. He looked to be about fifteen or sixteen years old, very tall, wearing a loose white hoodie and black sweatpants, with slightly long hair covering half of his eyebrows. The facial features are very clean, the eyebrows are beautiful, if it weren't for this ghostly place, people would definitely have to turn back and peek a few times on the street. But his eyes were gray. It wasn't that the irises were gray, but the entire eyeball was gray, as if covered with a layer of fog, like the eyes of a dead fish, without any rays of light. " Mom." He called out, his voice deep. The woman stuffed Lam Niem into his arms: "Carry it." The teenager lowered his head and looked at the lump of meat in his lap. Lam Niem also raised her head to look at him. Four eyes looked at each other. There was not a single trace of emotion in the teenager's gray eyes. Lam Niem blinked at him for two seconds, let out a small belch, then extremely contentedly crawled into his arms, found the most comfortable position and closed her eyes. Teenager: "..." The woman turned around and went into the kitchen, the voice echoed from far away: "Just take it, don't kill it, mom is still stewing soup in the pot." The teenager lowered his head to look at Lam Niem again. The girl is really sleeping. The breathing was light, the chest was rising and falling almost imperceptibly, the small mouth was slightly open, the corner of the mouth still hanging a tiny line of drool. The teenager holding the girl stood frozen in place, his gray-white eyeballs rolled around, glanced at the pile of internal organs on the sofa, then moved away again, falling to the corner of the wall. There, eight adults were huddled together, looking at him... and the baby in his arms with extremely complicated eyes. The teenager lowered his eyes, picked up Lam Niem, turned around, and returned to his room. The room door closed. In the living room, eight people stared at each other. "Is... is it sleeping?" The chubby man's voice trembled, "Sleeping in the arms of that thing? Really sleeping?" ”What is that thing?” The girl with the ponytail lowered her voice, "A boy? Surely he's also a monster, right? His eyes are so gray..." "Definitely also an NPC."