CHAPTER 312: THE BLACKSMITH’S APPETITE (2)

Still inside the forge room, Christian kept his eyes on the metal as he hammered at it.

He couldn’t afford a mistake — not now, halfway through.

And all the while, he was waiting for an answer from Anastasia.

He had already grown suspicious of the entire situation.

And he couldn’t help but wonder if Anastasia had any other motives — ones she hadn’t revealed yet.

It was then, as he remained absorbed in his thoughts, that Anastasia finally replied.

"Yes, I’m a blacksmith... far better than you."

And then, with a smile, she asked,

"Do you want me to teach you?"

Christian, hearing her offer, was actually tempted.

Someone of her strength teaching him directly... it could even possibly lead to faster progress than what he could get through the idle slot.

But it was only a brief interest.

He still believed he could achieve everything he set his mind to — without her help.

And now that he had confirmed her skill, his nonexistent trust in her had actually decreased.

That’s why he shook his head and said, "No, there’s no need for me to inconvenience you."

"With my feeble talent, I don’t have the qualification for that."

That’s what he said — trying, once again, to flatter her with his words.

There was no need to hurt her pride or create a problem over something like this.

But Christian, of course, didn’t truly believe he lacked the qualification.

Anastasia narrowed her eyes at his reply.

She pouted, lips pressed forward slightly, as if feeling wronged.

But she didn’t offer to teach him again... her skills were not that cheap.

And just like that, time passed.

By noon, Christian placed the nearly finished metal piece off to the side and decided to take a break.

When he turned, he saw Anastasia sitting in the corner — somehow having brought out a chair and a table from somewhere.

They were completely unaffected by the heat in the room, and she was sitting calmly, watching his work.

"I’m going to eat something," he said, glancing her way.

"Do you want to... join me?"

’Why did I ask?’

Christian suddenly wondered what had come over him.

But the words were already spoken — he couldn’t take them back now.

So all he could do was hope... maybe she’d decline.

"Why not? Let’s go."

Completely ignoring the quiet desperation in his eyes... the silent plea for her to refuse — Anastasia stood up, already having put away the chair and table.

Then, with a curious glint in her eyes, she asked, "Are you the one cooking?"

Christian shook his head and replied, "No. It’s takeout."

-----

In the dining room, spread out across the table, were all kinds of dishes — starting with hamburgers, which the table simply couldn’t be without, to more Western and Eastern food.

Christian, determined to compensate for the five days he’d gone without eating, had ordered all kinds of dishes.

So, without bothering with Anastasia sitting across from him, he simply began.

Anastasia watched him as he ate voraciously, then finally took a few bites herself.

As she chewed, her eyes sparkled.

"Wow, it’s delicious," she said.

It was her opinion on the hamburger — and Christian, who by no means considered himself patriotic, strangely felt proud.

"Well, it’s one of the most popular foods here," he said, as if explaining some national treasure.

Anastasia chuckled at his reaction and replied, "Well, yes. It’s good."

Once her words fell, Christian continued eating, and Anastasia, no longer holding back, dove into the food as well.

The food began disappearing quickly.

Christian, too focused on the meal, didn’t even notice until nothing was left on the table.

Then, looking up absentmindedly, his gaze fell on Anastasia.

He glanced at her slim frame — her stomach still looking far too small to hold anything — and wondered if she had a black hole inside her.

His eyes shifted next to her small pink lips, catching the way she licked them seductively.

There was a different charm to her now, not like usual.

And somehow, with those lips... she had eaten more than twice what he had.

"How about you order more?" Anastasia asked, pulling him from his thoughts — just as he was still staring at her lips, wondering how they tasted in that moment.

What kind of flavor did they hold?

"Well... why not?" he replied.

Then, Christian let Iris order more food, as he silently began the next round—

a staring contest between him and Anastasia.

Time passed slowly like that, while Christian still didn’t know what to make of this petite, yet incredibly strong girl.

And more importantly — what was the right way to treat her?

The thought that she was a blacksmith with some hidden motive hadn’t left his mind.

It was still nagging at him.

Just then, Anastasia opened her mouth and asked, "Do you know how to cook?"

It was a simple question, and Christian answered honestly, "Yes."

Before, he hadn’t known how.

But after he started sneaking into the kitchen more often — using the excuse of helping, when in truth, he just wanted to make out with his sister — he ended up learning.

He wasn’t a professional by any means, but with his comprehension, it came to him easily.

"Then why are you ordering food instead of cooking?" Anastasia asked again.

And with this kind of ordinary question, Christian didn’t even bother trying to analyze her intent.

He just replied plainly, "Well, I don’t want to be bothered. Not to mention, I’m working — so I don’t want to spend time cooking too."

Anastasia smiled at his reply before saying, "It’s the same for me."

What’s the same?

That you also don’t want to cook?

Christian wondered, until Anastasia, noticing his confusion, clarified:

"I meant that, despite being a blacksmith myself, that doesn’t mean I should do every bit of forging personally."

"Just like you don’t want to be bothered with cooking, I also don’t want to be bothered forging these simple parts."

Blinking, Christian wondered if he was too easy to read.

Because this time... he was certain the situation wasn’t that simple.

He also wanted to tell her that it wasn’t the same.

Even if he was lazy — if it was something for himself or those around him, he would forge everything on his own.

Cooking wasn’t the same as blacksmithing.

But in the end, as Anastasia became more and more mysterious in his eyes, he simply nodded.