The Obsessive Male Leads Want to Eat Me Alive - Chapter 67

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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Chapter 67
The Thug cried out triumphantly.
“Kekeke, I’ve come from the Dark Guild! From now on, I’ll be managing the Little Bakery. Hand over 20 percent of your monthly revenue, and I’ll let you keep your lives!”
Anette’s pot flew through the air without hesitation.
Clang—!
The Thug, struck squarely on the head (momentarily shocked by the bakery owner’s monstrous strength), hastily corrected himself.
“…M-maybe 10 percent of the revenue!”
Clang!!
“F-fine, 5 percent!”
Clang!!!
The Thug staggered away with blood streaming from both nostrils, stumbling toward the door (initially too dazed to realize he’d nearly headed for the kitchen hearth instead) before fleeing entirely.
“—I can’t give you any revenue.”
There’s no way I could do that.
The self-employed proprietor spoke with unwavering resolve, her eyes gleaming like polished steel.
Then she casually tossed the pot aside and hurried to help Kyle, who lay sprawled on the floor.
“Kine, are you all right?”
“….”
Kyle’s face bore a look of genuine admiration—for her and her pot’s remarkable performance.
“You were truly magnificent, Master.”
Hehe, well, well. Did my brilliance show through?
Anette smiled contentedly, wiped her nose with a quick gesture, and helped him to his feet.
* * *
Fortunately, the kitchen hadn’t been left in terrible disarray. The cleanup finished quickly.
Kine explained that he’d come to see me, discovered a suspicious shadow in the kitchen, and entered to investigate. A scuffle had ensued.
I prepared hot cocoa with marshmallows and handed it to Kine, then asked him a question.
“You seemed to be winning. Why did you let go of his arm and bow like an idiot?”
“…Upon seeing you, Master, I was so delighted that I momentarily forgot I was in the middle of a fight.”
“Good heavens.”
—You forgot something like that?
It felt like watching a golden retriever that drops everything and bounds over the moment it sees its owner.
I blinked for a moment, then gestured toward the bouquet—slightly crushed and wilted from the scuffle.
“Did you bring this bouquet for me?”
“I did.”
His expression grew a bit regretful.
“…It’s been damaged. Tomorrow I’ll bring you something far more beautiful.”
But this one is already quite lovely.
Like the most exquisite snowflakes gathered from the first winter snow, the bouquet was pristine and fragrant—genuinely beautiful.
—And besides, he’s planning to come to the bakery again tomorrow!
‘An excellent regular customer.’
At this rate, he more than deserved the title of “Bread Devotee.”
Anette placed the bouquet he brought into a vase with a pleased smile.
“The flowers may be damaged, but their fragrance remains intact.”
I inhaled the scent carefully, worried he might feel discouraged, and smiled as I spoke.
“…Yes, that’s true.”
He smiled joyfully, his expression touched by something.
“You have such kind words, Master.”
He continued.
“…You were always kind to everyone.”
The way he spoke in the past tense with that nostalgic expression—it hadn’t been that long since we met, had it, regular customer?
Bringing flowers to a bakery owner who lived alone at this late hour.
This was clearly―
‘He must want something from me.’
Offering a bribe, no less.
It would have been better if he’d brought food.
That innocent doe didn’t understand the basics of bribery.
“Actually, I came because I had something to tell you.”
“….”
Coming all the way here at this hour to offer a bribe—it must be something important he wanted to say.
“Please, go ahead.”
I answered readily and smiled slightly.
“….”
Kine seemed a bit tense as he adjusted his posture.
His handsome face turned toward me.
Below his sharp nose, his full lips moved carefully and deliberately.
“Actually―I’ve wanted to tell you something for a very long time.”
“….”
“Anette.”
The name he uttered, like a breath released with difficulty, felt weighty and formal.
I focused on his words.
His large hand pressed against his chest.
As if struggling to speak, his cheeks flushed as he swallowed.
“I… you… like….”
His voice was quiet. I raised my eyebrows and asked.
“Like?”
I want to employ you as an assistant?
I want to give you an early bird discount?
‘What is he saying?’
I listened intently to his next words.
Then, nibbling at my bread bit by bit like a chinchilla carefully rationing its food (though my eyes remained serious), I watched him.
I couldn’t concentrate on an empty stomach. I’d been so tense earlier that my digestion had already finished.
“….”
He gazed at me while gently biting his full lips.
His eyes softened, as if he were looking at a cute little animal.
“―I’ve forgotten what I was about to say.”
“What?!”
He exhaled and laughed.
“It seems I hit my head quite hard when I collapsed earlier.”
“Wait here!”
I hastily thrust the bread I’d been eating into his arms and stood up.
“Treating a concussion is all about speed!”
* * *
‘Fortunately, there’s no bump.’
I examined his soft, autumn-wheat-colored hair meticulously, but found nothing protruding.
Hmm, no brain hemorrhage then.
But his handsome face bore a wound.
His lip was split, dried blood crusted at the corner of his full mouth (I felt oddly distressed, as though it were a national loss).
“Does it hurt?”
He shook his head quietly.
His expression genuinely suggested no pain, which struck me as slightly odd.
‘He looks like he was raised delicately, yet this doesn’t hurt him?’
Does he have unexpected durability?
I opened the first-aid kit as I spoke.
“Well, this is fortunate. A regular customer just gave me an excellent salve, so once I apply this, it should heal quickly!”
He smiled with evident delight.
“Thank you, proprietor.”
He held a large cocoa mug in his enormous hands, making the mug—already a modest 100ml size—appear diminutive.
Meanwhile, the hot cocoa had fogged his square-framed glasses so thoroughly that the lenses were completely opaque.
Goodness.
―At that rate, he’s practically drinking it blind.
Watching such a large man behave so meekly struck me as rather endearing.
“This will sting a bit.”
I warned him, then used tweezers to pick up a cotton swab and gently tapped his lip.
The man sat obediently, holding his cocoa cup in one hand.
‘A man with all the offensive capability of a young deer.’
Essentially zero offensive power?
Thinking back, the way he suddenly bowed so formally at that moment had been amusing.
No, actually, deer are supposed to have terrible temperaments.
Yet this man, despite his impressive height and muscular build (I’d confirmed the muscles during our shopping trip), possessed a genuinely tender heart.
―Less offensive capability than a deer, you say?
I found myself speaking to him with a touch of affection.
“You really do seem like you couldn’t kill even a single ant, Kine.”
“….”
“You’ve never properly killed an ant before, have you? Because you’re kind. I can read faces, you see. That’s exactly what you look like.”
He took a sip of hot cocoa, his eyes widening blankly.
Ah, why isn’t he responding?
It was the same expression he’d worn when the fruit shop owner asked if we were newlyweds. …Somehow he looked a bit suspicious.
I decided to tease him a little more.
“I’m genuinely worried about how you’ll survive in this harsh world.”
“…Is that so?”
“If it weren’t for me, you would have suffered greatly at the hands of that Thug, you know? Without me and my brave pot, you would have lost your life.”
“―Thank you, Master. I shall dedicate my life to you.”
He pressed his hand earnestly against my chest.
“This body as well.”
…That wasn’t what I meant.
Don’t do that. Don’t let the literal definition of ‘Master’ become reality.
It sounds rather suggestive.
I shook my head and scooped out a bit of salve, bringing it to the corner of his mouth.
My finger touched the wound on his injury.
“Ah.”
His full lips parted, accompanied by a low moan that scratched the back of his throat.
“Does it hurt?”
His lips trembled against my fingertip.
“…It tickles.”
“….”
“Yes, it does.”
In that moment, the candle flickered at the man’s long exhale. In the wavering light, his lips, jawline, and collarbone became starkly visible.
―Suddenly, a strange tension gripped me.
The dark Bakery had only candlelight, and the gas lamps still remained unlit.
I was looking at his lips for treatment purposes, but meanwhile, his gaze remained fixed intently on my face.
Usually he couldn’t even meet my eyes.
It seemed easier for him to look at me when I wasn’t watching.
As I deliberately ignored that gaze and applied the salve with light taps,
Creak―
His large hand gripping the chair tensed with force.
As if restraining some impulse.
‘…The atmosphere is strange.’
I stopped the treatment and spoke playfully on purpose.
“Right, now that I think about it, your glasses fog up when you drink cocoa, don’t they? Why don’t you take them off for a moment when drinking something hot?”
“….”
“―Like this!”
I removed his glasses with both hands.
“Is your eyesight that poor? Can you not see me like this?”
That was when it happened—a warm, large hand gently grasped my wrist, closing the distance between us.
As the candlelight flickered, we drew so near that our breaths intermingled.
He lowered his long lashes.
“Like this, I can see you.”
“….”
His low voice resonated deeply.
The man whose cheeks had flushed in that peculiar way held my gaze steadily, then brought my hand carefully to his warm lips as he whispered.
“The treatment is not yet complete, Master.”
“….”
I revise my assessment of him.
‘He’s got offensive power, quite a bit of it.’

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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