Chapter 1077: Poor Tongue Technique

Chapter 1077 – Poor Tongue Technique

Runa’s fur bristled.

No, she did not like this one.

Puppet masters always thought control was elegant. Always believed moving bodies by strings was an art. Runa had known court mages like that. Men and women who smiled while making dolls dance and called obedience peace.

Runa hissed.

A sharp, ugly sound.

Lux looked down at her.

The maid stopped. Her eyes lowered to Runa, not offended. Merely curious. "Ah," the maid said softly. "Our little guest is awake enough to judge."

Runa hissed harder.

Little guest?

The maid smiled.

Lux’s mouth twitched. "Lyra, she doesn’t like puppet control."

Lyra tilted her head. "She can see the strings?"

"I think."

Lyra’s expression shifted to polite interest. "Impressive."

Runa did not want to be impressive to a puppet master. She wanted to become large enough to set the strings on fire.

Lyra bowed lightly. "I have prepared some milk for our little guest. I thought she would be hungry."

Runa froze.

Milk?

Her soul recoiled.

Did this woman think she was a real cat?

A bowl of milk?

Was she supposed to lap at it like some tavern alley creature with no pride, no lineage, no magical education, no record of burning mage generals alive?

Absolutely not.

Then Lyra stepped aside and revealed the bowl.

It sat on a tray, white and steaming faintly. The smell rose.

Warm milk.

Rich.

Soft.

A little sweet.

Something had been mixed inside, gentle and nourishing, not merely milk but mana-light nutrition blended into it. It smelled like comfort. Like heat. Like survival wrapped in humiliation.

Runa’s stomach growled.

Loudly.

Traitor!

The cat’s body wanted it.

Badly.

The cat instinct said yes with the enthusiasm of a starving peasant seeing festival bread.

Runa’s sorcerer pride said no.

Unfortunately, Runa was also hungry. Very hungry.

She had not eaten since waking.

Actually, she had not eaten for centuries.

Did stone count as fasting? It probably did. Horrifically.

Her stomach growled again.

Lyra’s smile softened. "Oh, you are hungry."

Runa wanted to bite her.

Gently.

No. Hard.

Maybe later.

Lyra placed the bowl on a table.

Not the floor.

Runa paused.

Ah... At least the puppet master understood hierarchy.

A table.

Like a civilized being.

Not the floor like livestock.

Lux set Runa on the table beside the bowl. "Careful."

Runa ignored him and immediately wobbled toward the milk. Her dignity had entered emergency liquidation.

She lowered her head.

Stopped.

How did cats drink?

Surely instinct would handle this.

The cat body knew, right?

She opened her mouth.

Her tongue moved wrong.

Only a pathetic amount of milk entered.

Most of it wet her chin.

Runa froze.

No. No, no, no.

This was worse than the tower.

The tower had been a prison, but at least it did not force her to fail at drinking.

She tried again.

The same problem.

Her tongue did something meaningless. Her mouth opened too wide, then too little. Milk touched her nose. She sneezed.

Gula gasped. "Cute."

Runa’s eyes watered.

Not from emotion.

From milk in her nose.

Obviously.

She tried again.

Still failed.

A tiny tremor ran through her body.

She was starving.

She had already lowered her pride enough to drink milk from a bowl.

And she could not even do that.

Something inside her cracked. Helplessness.

The cat soul deep inside her whimpered faintly, hungry too.

Runa wanted to cry.

Both of them wanted to cry.

The great sorcerer and the injured cat, united by hunger, shame, and poor tongue technique.

Lux’s expression changed.

The teasing vanished.

He reached for her.

Runa panicked.

No!

No grabbing!

No control!

She struggled, weak body twisting, claws flashing.

One claw caught his hand.

A thin scratch opened across his skin.

Lux did not flinch.

He simply lifted her carefully, supporting her so her body did not twist painfully.

Runa hissed, but the sound broke halfway.

Lux looked at her, eyes calm. "You want to eat, right?"

Runa stared at him.

Her chest trembled.

His voice lowered. "Then stay still."

She hated that command.

Hated it.

But it was not a spell. Just a man telling a starving creature to stop fighting long enough to be fed.

Runa went still.

Lux looked at Lyra. "Spoon."

Lyra had already prepared one. She placed a small silver spoon in Lux’s hand.

Lux dipped it into the milk, blew on it once, then lifted it toward Runa’s mouth.

Runa stared at him. Absolutely not. A demon was going to feed her with a spoon. Like a baby!

Her pride thrashed.

Her stomach growled.

Lux waited.

Warm milk scent curled upward.

Runa slowly opened her mouth.

He tipped the spoon carefully.

Milk touched her tongue.

Warmth slid down her throat.

Her entire tiny body softened before her mind could stop it.

It was good.

Not just tasty. Restoring. The milk carried gentle mana, enough to soothe her vessel without overwhelming it. It sank into the shaking body like a blanket laid over broken nerves.

Lux gave her another spoonful.

She accepted.

Another.

Then another.

The ache in her belly eased by tiny degrees.

Her eyes stung again.

This time, not because of milk in her nose.

Runa stared at Lux.

This demon...

This dangerous, handsome, irritating demon...

He fed her.

’Ah... He is a good demon.’ The thought arrived anyway.

Runa’s ears lowered.

Maybe it was because she was hungry.

Maybe it was because of the cat.

Maybe this tiny body had a very low emotional bar and had decided anyone with warm milk was husband material.

Not husband!

No!

Bad cat!

Lux’s mouth curved faintly, as if he sensed the emotional collapse happening in her skull. "Better?"

Runa glared at him.

Then opened her mouth for more milk.

Lux’s smile deepened.

Naomi covered her lips, eyes soft. "She trusts you a little."

Runa immediately hissed. Weakly.

Lux nodded. "She objects to the phrasing."

Aela smiled. "But not to the milk."

Runa wanted to object to that too, but another spoon arrived, and survival took priority over argument.

Gula leaned closer. "Can I taste it?"

Naomi and Lux answered together, "No."

Gula pouted. "Everyone is fed except me."

"You have a plate," Naomi said.

Gula looked at the plate in her hand as if surprised by the existence of evidence. "That’s different."

Sira sipped wine, watching Lux feed the cat with dangerous amusement.

Lullaby leaned against the doorway, pillow hugged to her chest. "She looks less murderous."