A sharp ching echoed through the clearing.

The fryers let out a small puff of steam, and then—

CLICK!

—each metal basket lifted automatically, rising from the bubbling oil in perfect unison.

The sound of sizzling stopped, replaced by the faint drip of golden oil as the freshly cooked chicken emerged into the light.

And then—every single elf gasped.

The chicken shimmered before them—glorious, golden, and glistening under the sunlight like treasure pulled from molten gold.

It was perfect.

Crispy, textured skin. A deep golden-brown shine that looked almost metallic. Steam rising like it was steaming hold.

Seeing this glorious sight, their eyes trembled, mouths falling open.

"What is that?" One whispered.

"It's so golden…" Another said in awe.

"Why does it look so shiny?"

"It's beautiful. I've never seen food that looks like...like that."

"I can't even explain it. I-I just...want to bite it."

Some were even drooling without realizing it, their eyes locked on the glimmering chicken.

"The smell...it's even stronger now…" Whispered one elf, pressing her hands against her lips. "I can taste it without even eating it…"

Dozens of murmurs spread through the clearing, each voice filled with awe, shock, and craving.

Some elves took hesitant steps forward before stopping themselves, trembling as though fighting some inner demon.

Meanwhile, Luna looked around at their faces—so many eyes, wide and hungry.

Some looked ready to pounce like starving wolves.

She then turned to Luca, speechless.

He hadn't said a single word. And yet...the food had spoken.

"You really...let the food do the talking…" Luna said in amazement.

"Yep, when it comes to food, you let it do it's own thing while you sit back and watch the show."

He casually said as if he was already expecting such a reaction

But then his expression changed.

His lips curled into a sly grin, the kind of grin a commander gets before giving the order to charge.

"Alright...Time to take it to the next level."

Both Luna and Nyx blinked. "Next level?"

"Yeah." Luca's eyes gleamed. "Let's spice things up a little."

Nyx grinned. "Oh, this is going to be good."

"Luna..." He said, gesturing toward the fryer. "Take out the baskets. Transfer all the chicken into the steel bowls we set up. Twenty pieces in each."

Still confused, she obeyed quickly, using a long-handled tong to lift the pieces out one by one.

Nyx helped her, moving with surprising speed.

Soon, they had several large steel bowls lined neatly on the table, each filled with piles of shimmering, golden chicken.

It looked like a treasure trove of fried gold.

The elves stared, their jaws slack. The smell was getting thicker, richer, more intoxicating by the second.

"Now..." Luca said, stretching his neck slightly. "Bring me the flavor powders."

Luna rushed over, grabbing a handful of small shaker tins and setting them on the table. Each was labeled with different seasonings.

The elves watched closely, whispering among themselves.

"What's he doing now?"

"Is it another ritual?"

"Isn't the food already finished?"

"Why is he...oh no, he's opening one!"

Luca picked one up, the one labeled Spicy Cheddar.

He twisted off the cap, poured out a handful into his palm...and then suddenly, to everyone's confusion, tossed the powder into the air.

Poof!

Then the wind caught it.

Whoosh!

The fine, orange dust scattered, swirling through the air and immediately, the clearing filled with a new aroma.

It was sharp. Tangy. Cheesy. Spicy.

The elves' reactions were instant.

"Oh my Goddess, what is that smell?!" One cried.

"This is even better than before!"

"I can't...I can't take it! It's too good!"

"He's...He's torturing us!"

Luca chuckled under his breath and began sprinkling the powder onto the chicken, tossing the pieces with effortless grace.

Each flick of his wrist sent another burst of steam and scent spiraling through the air.

But he didn't stop there.

He grabbed another shaker—this one labeled Cajun Spice.

With a confident motion, he threw another handful of powder into the air, and the next wave hit even harder.

"Ah—! What's happening to me?!" Cried an elf, clutching her face.

"It's...smoky! Tangy! I can't—my mouth is watering!"

"Stop him! He's making me hungry for—for meat!"

He laughed softly under his breath and reached for the next one—Sour Cream.

Another sprinkle, another toss, another explosion of aroma that rolled through the forest like perfume, before doing the same for few others.

And each new flavor hit the crowd like a spell.

Some elves were clutching their stomachs now, others gripping tree trunks for balance as their knees went weak.

A few were openly drooling.

"I can't...I can't resist anymore!" One sobbed.

"He's enchanting us! This is sorcery!"

"No, it's worse than sorcery! It's delicious!"

Luna and Nyx could barely contain their laughter as they watched the crowd lose control.

The ancient scent of forest moss, flowers, and bark was gone now—replaced entirely by the irresistible waves of fried perfection, spice, and flavor that Luca had unleashed.

Even the elders—wise, stoic elves who had resisted temptation for centuries were now wiping their mouths, whispering to each other in panic.

"This isn't right...Why does it smell so good…?"

"I feel like I'll die if I don't eat it…"

"He's definitely using a spell! There's no other explanation!"

But the truth was simpler and far crueler.

There was no spell. No enchantment.

Just the pure, merciless power of some good old fried chicken.

The elves themselves thought they had already reached their limit.

The scent, the colors, the frying sounds—it was already too much.

Their self-control was breaking by the second, and they were trembling like leaves in the wind, desperate not to give in.

But then, just when they thought the torment was over—

—they saw Nyx and Luna approaching again.

Each was carrying a large metal bowl filled with something thick and glossy. The liquid inside shimmered under the sunlight, dark and glistening, the way golden syrup catches the light.

The elves squinted, curious at first...until the smell hit them.

Instant panic spread through the crowd.

"No, no, no—what are they doing now?!" Cried one elf.

"Please, stop! This is already too much!" Screamed another, clutching her chest.

"My heart can't take it!"

"I'm begging you—no more!"

"Have mercy on us!"

But Nyx and Luna didn't even glance at them.

They just smiled faintly at each other, and in perfect sync, lifted the bowls high and poured the sauce over the next few trays of chicken.

Pour!

The glossy glaze cascaded over the golden skin, dripping down the pieces like molten amber. It gleamed as it flowed, coating each piece evenly.

Then, with both hands, the two women took the bowls and tossed the chicken around, mixing it all together.

The sizzling sound of sauce hitting the hot meat was followed by a fresh explosion of scent—thicker, heavier, richer than anything before.

It hit the elves like a physical force. Like someone had slapped them all at once.

"Oh gods—oh gods, stop!"

"I can't breathe—it's too good!"

"I'm hungry—so hungry!"

"I can't handle it anymore!"

A few of them even dropped to their knees, clutching their stomachs as if they'd been stabbed.

Others leaned weakly against trees, faces red and trembling.

The young elves like Selma, Alia, and Ivy looked on the verge of tears, eyes wide and shimmering.

"This is torture!" Selma cried. "Pure torture!"

"The Hero's a demon!" Alia wailed. "He's killing us with deliciousness!"

"I can't...I can't take it anymore!"

Ivy moaned, half laughing and half crying.

"It's too cruel! TOO CRUEL!"

And then they saw the final product.

Before them stood a long wooden table, stretching across the clearing, piled high with bowls and platters of fried chicken.

But not just one type—the entire display was a kaleidoscope of color and flavor.

Some were deep red, shimmering with spicy glaze.

Some were golden brown, dusted with a pale white powder.

Some were covered in dark, sweet sauces that glistened like honey.

Others were left bare—pure golden perfection.

Every single bowl was bursting with aroma and color, the kind that made their heart's race.

Just then—

Grrrrrrrrrrr.

A loud growl broke the silence.

Everyone froze. Dozens of heads turned toward the source.

Selma's face went bright red.

"Th-That wasn't me!" She said defensively.

But her stomach betrayed her again.

Grrrrrrr!

This time louder.

And then, as if it were some contagious curse—another stomach grumbled.

Grrrrrrr!

And another.

Grrrrrrr!

And another.

Within moments, the entire clearing was filled with the rumbling chorus of a hundred hungry elves.

Grrrrr! Grrrrr! Grrrrrrrr!

The sound echoed all around like a bizarre forest symphony. Even the birds went quiet.

When the last stomach growled and silence returned, every elf looked around in utter embarrassment.

Their faces were crimson. Mothers were trying to hush their children; older elves were pretending to look away as though nothing happened.

Nyx had to bite her lip to stop from laughing. Luna covered her mouth with both hands, shoulders trembling.

If they laughed now, the entire crowd might flee from humiliation.

But despite everything—even with their pride, their embarrassment, their heritage screaming inside them—they still held back.

For thousands of years, their culture had forbidden them from eating meat.

Every single elf present had been raised to reject it—to believe it was sin, impurity, and corruption.

So even as their mouths watered, their stomachs screamed, and their bodies begged for a taste, they stood firm.

The mothers held their children close as little hands reached toward the tables. The young ones whimpered softly, staring at the glistening feast that called to them like sirens.

And though their parents knew how much their girls wanted to feast, they whispered,

"No...we mustn't. We can't."

It was a beautiful, pitiful sight—an entire civilization fighting its own instincts.

But then…

A sudden shout tore through the crowd.

"What is that smell?!" It bellowed. "What in the name of the gods is that smell in my nose right now?!"

"I've lived in this forest for hundreds of years, and I've never—NEVER—smelled anything like this before!"

Every head turned.

And out from the crowd stumbled an elf unlike any they had ever seen.

She was short, bent, and wrinkled beyond belief.

Her skin was thin as parchment, her ears long and drooping, and her back hunched so deeply she needed a cane to walk.

She looked nothing like the graceful, ageless elves they all were used to.

She looked...old.

And seeing her, the elves around her bowed their heads respectfully.

Some even whispered her name in awe.

"Granny Elna…"

Luca on the other hand was baffled by what what he was seeing.

"Wait, wait, hold up—what the hell is that thing?"

"Luca!" Luna hissed, lightly smacking his arm. "Don't don't be rude!"

But he couldn't help but stare at the bizzare sight before he leaned closer to Luna, whispering.

"Luna, I thought elves didn't age. Isn't that one of their biggest appeals? So, why is there a grandma here? Isn't that impossible?"

Luna smiled awkwardly.

"Well, elves live for a very long time, Luca. But we do age eventually, we are mortals after all. It just takes a few hundred years."

"And Granny Elna is...well, she's quite special."

"She's long past the usual lifespan of a elf, which is around four hundred years and is the oldest elf in the entire village."

"It's also why she looks so old since she technically isn't even supposed to reach such a age."

"How old is she?" Luca curiously asked.

"Over five hundred years."

Luca nearly dropped his tongs.

"Five hundred?! Damn, no wonder she looks like she's barely hanging on to life!"

"Oh, that's not the impressive part." Nyx chuckled darkly. "The best part is that she's absolutely crazy."

Luna frowned. "Auntie Nyx!"

"It's true!" Nyx said, shrugging. "She forgets things, yells at birds, and sometimes mistakes her daughter for a fox."

"Her mind's not what it used to be."

And as if to prove Nyx's point, Granny Elna turned her cloudy eyes toward the table of fried chicken and shouted,

"Who in the blazes made that smell?! Show yourself!"

Her daughter—an elderly elf herself, though still radiant compared to her mother, hurried after her.

"Mother, please, calm down! Don't cause a scene again! Come, let's go home."

"Home?!" Granny Elna barked. "Who even are you, woman?!"

Her daughter sighed deeply, clearly used to this.

"I'm your daughter, Mother. Please, stop shouting."

"Oh, shut up!" Granny Elna snapped. "Stop following me! I'm going to find that smell!"

"Mother, no, you don't understand!"

Her daughter grabbed her arm desperately.

" That smell—it's meat! It's chicken! It's the flesh of a dead animal! You can't—"

But Granny Elna yanked her arm free with surprising strength.

"I don't care!" She shouted. "I've lived five centuries, and I've smelled every damn thing this world has to offer—flowers, fruits, forests, even dragon breath!"

"But this? This is something else! And I'm not dying before I taste it!"

"Mother, please!"

"I SAID I DON'T CARE!"

With that, the old elf sprinted.

Yes—sprinted.

Despite her cane and her trembling legs, she ran faster than most of the young elves.

The entire crowd gasped as she bolted straight toward the table, eyes blazing with feral hunger.

"Stop her!" Someone shouted.

"She's lost her mind!"

"Don't let her do it!"

"She'll break the ancient taboo!"

Her daughter ran after her, frantic.

"Mother, please stop! You'll regret it!"

But Granny Elna was unstoppable.

With shocking speed, she reached the table and skidded to a stop in front of Luca.

All eyes turned to him.

"Hero! Stop her!" Someone cried. "Please, stop her before it's too late!"

But Luca only smiled calmly.

"Go ahead, Granny Elna." He encouraged. "Pick whichever one you like."

The crowd gasped in unison.

Granny Elna didn't hesitate. She tossed her cane aside and grabbed the nearest piece of chicken—a large, saucy one dripping with glaze.

"Mother, no!" Her daughter screamed.

But Granny Elna didn't even look back.

With all the conviction of a goddess defying fate itself, she bit into it with her brittle teeth.

Chomp!

The entire clearing went dead silent.

The crack of the crispy coating echoed like thunder.

The sauce smeared across her lips as she chewed slowly...then swallowed.

Gulp!

The silence was absolute.

The elves stared, horrified—because for the first time in elven history, someone had eaten meat.

The oldest elf in the entire village...had broken the taboo.

Selma dropped to her knees.

"She...she actually did it…"

Alia covered her mouth, eyes wide.

"She broke it...she broke the ancient vow…"

Ivy whispered, trembling.

"The oldest one of us all...broke the taboo first…"

Centuries of culture, thousands of years of belief—shattered in a single bite.

And it had been done...by a senile granny who was one breath away from kicking the bucket.

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