"So, I woke up on Aeaea, and you're the weakling called Circe—the ruler of this place?"
"Weakling? How dare you! I'm a great witch!"
"A great witch who was trembling at the sight of me?"
"T-That was an accident! You just appeared out of nowhere! I—I warn you not to mess around—this witch is very powerful!"
Inside the cave, a faint rustling echoed through the shadows. As the dark shape drew closer and closer, Circe, cornered with nowhere left to run, squeezed her eyes shut in panic. She waved her tin staff wildly, shrieking to give herself courage.
"I'm a follower of Hecate, the Moon Goddess! If you eat me, she'll never forgive you!"
"Hecate? Never met her. But I have shared a meal with her cousin, Artemis. And with so many followers of the Underworld's Moon Goddess, eating one or two shouldn't be a big deal, right?"
"My mother is a sea nymph! My father is Helios, the Sun God!"
"Mm. They've had quite a few children between them, haven't they? And since they haven't come looking for you after all these years..."
Circe's breath hitched. She opened her eyes to retort—but froze.
The lantern-sized, blood-red pupils hovering in front of her locked her gaze. In that instant, she felt like a frog caught in a serpent's stare. Her skin prickled, her body stiffened, and cold sweat seeped down her back, soaking through her thin robes.
"Tsk. You should know this—after waking up, I'm usually a bit hungry."
The black serpent lowered its head, tongue flickering, its tone slow and dripping with menace.
"I don't taste good! Not good at all!"
Circe shook her head frantically, huddling in the corner with her arms wrapped tightly around her head.
"Pfft. Too scrawny. Barely a mouthful of meat—you'd just get stuck in my teeth. But fine, I can let you off..."
"Really?"
"Really. But first, give me a couple of gurgles."
"Huh?"
The witch, who'd barely escaped death, blinked in confusion. Her pointed ears twitched, and her brain struggled to process what she'd just heard.
"Gurgle or not? If not, I'm starting dinner."
"...Gurgle."
"So quiet. Didn't eat today?"
"Gurgle gurgle."
"Still too soft! I can't hear you!"
"But you clearly—"
"Upperclassman—cough—what I mean is, I can't hear you!"
"Guh... guh-guh-guh!"
The massive serpent hidden in the shadows suddenly convulsed, trembling as if in hysterics. Its tail slammed against the ground, scattering sand and stone as a booming laugh echoed through the cave. Its jaw stretched wide into a grin as a surge of black mist swept outward.
"You—you promised not to eat me! You liar!"
Circe wailed, clutching her head and shaking uncontrollably.
Smack!
A crisp flick landed on her forehead—not too hard, not too soft.
"Ow!" she yelped, clutching her head and blinking through tears.
When her vision cleared, a tall, handsome figure with shoulder-length black hair stood before her.
"So... beautiful..."
Circe breathed the words unconsciously, voicing her awe before she could stop herself.
"Hahahaha! Delightful, delightful—what an amusing little bird."
Samael looked at the dazed witch before him, rubbing his abdomen as laughter burst from his chest.
At last, he understood where Gilgamesh's twisted sense of humor came from. Over a long life, the soul loses interest in many things. Finding new amusement—something to spark curiosity again—becomes essential.
And here it was. After teasing the future, infamous "Feast Witch," the gloom and frustration he'd carried from the surface world had been swept away in a surge of pleasure.
Still, he couldn't help but think—perhaps birdkind as a whole wasn't particularly intelligent.
As Samael stroked his chin in thought, the sound of flapping wings echoed from the cave's entrance. A harpy swooped in, and the instant she caught sight of the familiar figure, she cried out in shock.
"Black Demon—no, wait! Master Samael, you're awake?!"
The harpy hastily corrected herself, her face lighting up with joy as she threw herself into the ancient serpent's arms. She nuzzled against him affectionately, unable to hide her delight at their reunion. The blue tuft of feathers on her head wobbled happily, like a tiny mood gauge.
Samael's expression darkened for a moment before softening. He reached out and gently patted the harpy's head.
"At least you still have some sense, brat. Guess raising you wasn't a total waste."
"Samael, Samael! Since you're awake, let's have a big feast to celebrate! Bring out everything tasty you can make!"
The harpy tilted her head upward, eyes wide and sparkling, a thread of drool glistening at the corner of her mouth.
"Alright!"
Feeling lighthearted, the ancient serpent agreed without hesitation, then turned and called softly,
"Tina, we're going to gather some ingredients for a midnight meal. Want to come along?"
"Mm... together..."
Her answer came slowly, but with that, Tina jogged out from the darkness.
Soon, the man led both the harpy and Tina, one on each side, into the dense forest.
So... they already know each other?
Left behind, Circe stood dumbfounded. Her lips twitched violently as she crouched in frustration, drawing circles in the dirt while grumbling under her breath.
Damn serpent! How dare you deceive the great witch! I curse you to turn into a piglet!
Maybe I should slip some drugged porridge into his meal...
Eat, eat, eat! Let him eat until he bursts!
"Hey, Circe, right? What do you want to eat from this island?"
"W–whatever's fine."
The sudden question made Circe's body stiffen. The malice she had been nursing scattered in an instant, and she stammered out her answer with a nervous smile.
From behind the bushes, Samael watched the trembling girl, her face frozen in a forced grin, hands clutching the hem of her robe, shaking like a frightened quail. He rubbed his chin again, muttering quietly to himself.
Hmm. Maybe that joke went a bit too far. Look at her—she's terrified.
Maybe I should just... increase—
Ahem. Increase the meal, that's all.
Suppressing his less-than-human instincts with a dry cough, Samael bared a row of eight perfectly even teeth in what he thought was a friendly, reassuring smile.
Did—did he catch me? Is he going to eat me?
Seeing that ominous grin full of sharp fangs, Circe's heart nearly stopped. Her face went white as she flapped her wings in panic, diving for her little nest.
"Don't eat me! I taste awful!"
Samael froze as he felt two pairs of eyes from either side—Tina and the harpy—fix on him, making his expression twitch with embarrassment.
Looks like I overdid it. Great, now I've given the poor bird a trauma.
...
A few hours later, the three of them returned to the cabin, their arms full of wild vegetables, mushrooms, herbs, and other ingredients.
Using his extensive knowledge, Samael prepared a midnight feast filled with strange and exotic flavors.
When the meal was finally served, even Circe—still trembling under her blanket—was overcome by the aroma. She crept quietly to the table, unable to resist, and began eating heartily.
As the atmosphere relaxed, the ancient serpent glanced toward the harpy devouring her food like a starved wolf.
Alright, I take it back. That "joy of reunion" talk? Completely fake.
For a glutton, there are only two kinds of things in the world—what can be eaten, and what just needs to be cooked first. And if you're not careful... that might even include people.