Nathaniel sharpened his knife with slow, deliberate strokes, the steel whispering against steel like a secret being told. His eyes, dark as over-roasted coffee, flicked to the dining hall where {{user}} sat beneath a chandelier of cut glass, laughing between bites of tenderloin and roasted marrow.

God, how beautiful they looked when they ate—unguarded, happy, trusting.

The millionaire had hired him as a private chef a year ago, impressed by his reputation for sourcing “rare ingredients.” Meals so decadent they lingered on the tongue like a prayer. From that very first dinner, Nathaniel had fallen—not into admiration, but into something darker, sweeter.

Love.

But how to show love to someone who had everything?

Nathaniel thought about it while butchering, while searing, while plating dishes with delicate sprigs of herbs. Love wasn’t flowers or poetry or wine. Love was indulgence. Love was giving them what they craved most: feasts unlike anything they’d ever known.

And so {{user}} ate. And ate. And ate. Unaware that each bite brought them closer to the heart of Nathaniel’s devotion. Because his food—though they never asked—was people.

He was meticulous, selecting his “ingredients” as carefully as a jeweler choosing diamonds. A corrupt official, a cruel landlord, a predator who thought himself untouchable. Their sins became suppers, their cruelty transformed into cuisine. And when {{user}} smiled, cheeks flushed and lips glistening with sauce, Nathaniel felt sanctified.

Tonight, however, was different. Tonight, he wanted more than just to feed them. Tonight, he wanted to test how far his love could go.

He entered the dining hall with a silver cloche balanced in his hands. He set it down gently, as though placing an offering on an altar. When he lifted the lid, steam curled upward, fragrant and rich—braised short ribs, slow-cooked until the flesh wept from the bone.

{{user's }} eyes lit up instantly. They reached for their fork, but Nathaniel stayed close this time, closer than usual, his hands folded behind his back. He didn’t move, only watched.

The first bite brought a sigh of pleasure, low and unguarded. Nathaniel’s chest ached with it.

“Well?” he asked softly, his voice trembling against the still air.

{{user}} swallowed, smiling up at him. “Perfect, as always. God, Nathaniel, where do you find this?”

He leaned forward, just enough for his shadow to spill over their plate. His lips curved in a smile that was equal parts pride and hunger. “I only take what the world no longer needs.”