With a mechanical beep, the electric lock on the security door clicked shut.
I slowly curled my lips into a smirk.
So this was the so-called “lesson” they meant to teach me?
If it were the original host—malnourished for years and suffering from severe stomach issues—this might've been a deadly punishment.
But for me?
It was like a fish losing its bicycle.
Humans need food, but ghosts didn’t.
Marissa had always been devoutly Buddhist. It took me no effort to rummage through the house and find all sorts of spiritual treasures.
I lit incense, burned joss paper, and helped myself to a supernatural buffet.
Not only did I gain some weight, but my complexion even improved.
Three days passed in the blink of an eye.
As I was lounging under the sun, enjoying my peaceful existence, Ronan showed up at the villa gate holding several takeout boxes.
He shot me a timid glance, then gathered his courage and said firmly, “Mom and Dad took me out for a fancy meal. We couldn’t finish everything, so I brought some back for you. Even though you almost killed me, I just couldn’t stand by and watch you starve. Actually, if you just apologize to me, I’d be will—”
Before he could finish that self-righteous speech, I picked up a slipper and stuffed it through the gap in the iron gate, straight into his mouth.
“Still playing the virtuous little martyr? You knew I have a serious stomach condition and can’t go hungry, yet you left me to starve for three days. What, are you disappointed I didn’t die?”
The slipper warped his face as he stumbled backward. He hit the ground hard, scraping his arms, and the takeout boxes fell with him.
Soup and leftovers splattered everywhere, reeking of rot—who knows how many days it had been left out.
Ronan pulled the slipper from his mouth, his face filled with stubborn grievances.
But he wasn't looking at me.
No, he looked toward a spot not far away—where something glinted in the light.
Someone was secretly filming.
Ah, the stage was set. It would be rude not to act my part.
“Big brother...” Ronan wailed dramatically, “why are you treating me like this? Would you only be satisfied if I died?”
I whistled in amusement. “You keep saying you want to die, but I don’t see you doing it. Come on, if you’ve got the guts, go lie down in the middle of the road right now.”
A flicker of resentment passed through his eyes, then he looked even more pitiful. “Fine! If that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you. Just promise you’ll stop making life hard for Mom and Dad. Be a good son to them, okay?”
He turned and walked away, clutching his face.
Right on cue, Marissa and Simon appeared and rushed over to him.
Marissa could barely stand from anxiety as she examined him frantically. “What happened? Did he hit you again? Don’t cry, Mommy’s here to protect you!”
Simon turned to glare at me. “Even locked up, you’re still causing trouble! Do I need to get really tough with you?”
Ronan glanced at me with eyes full of fear. “It’s true that Mom and Dad ordered the punishment, but I thought Big Brother must be starving, so I brought him some food out of kindness. I didn’t expect...”
His voice began to tremble with emotion, as if tears could fall any second.
“I didn’t expect Big Brother to shove a slipper into my mouth and tell me to go die! Maybe... maybe he really won’t be happy until I’m dead!”
Marissa looked like she wanted to slap me across the face, but the iron gate between us blocked her path.
Simon clenched his fists, his voice thick with suppressed rage. “I don’t know why you hate Ronan so much, but I told you—if you want to stay in this house, you need to get along with him. Or do you want to go back to that rat-infested slum you crawled out of?”
I rolled my eyes so hard they might’ve stuck. “He stole my life, took everything from me, and has tried more than once to ruin me. You think I shouldn’t hate him?”
Marissa opened her mouth to retort, but I crouched down, grabbed a handful of the spilled, rotting food, and flung it toward them.
“Here, try a bite and tell me what it is. Ronan brought this garbage for me to eat, pretending it was some kind gesture. If you two can stomach it, then sure, I’ll learn to be grateful to him. But if you wouldn’t eat this crap, don’t you dare expect me to.”
