Maeve swore that she would rather bury herself alive than eat a centipede’s brain.

She swore it and engraved that promise deep into her mind.

But for some reason, the moment she took a bite of the Cindermaw’s brain, a burst of delicious flavors exploded in her mouth.

Maeve froze because the taste was far better than she had expected.

It was savory, slightly sweet, and just a little salty. All of the flavors blended together perfectly. More importantly, there wasn’t even a hint of the unpleasant smell or taste she had been expecting.

In fact, it was delicious, really delicious.

"What... what’s happening?" Maeve muttered under her breath as she slowly chewed.

For a moment, she simply stared at the piece in her hand, and then she looked up at the triplets. "Why does it taste... so good?"

The three of them immediately looked pleased, as if they had been waiting for her to say those exact words.

However, Maeve barely noticed it because she was so focused on the food. After all, she hadn’t eaten a proper meal in an entire week, and every bite of food she had tried to force down had ended with nausea, discomfort, or the urge to throw up.

So the moment she found something that didn’t make her feel sick, she wanted to keep eating it.

"Can I have another piece?" she asked.

The triplets froze for a second, then Cerus nearly shoved the entire log toward her.

"Of course!"

Maeve didn’t even have time to react before several more slices were placed in front of her.

Ignoring the excited looks on their faces, she picked up another piece and took a bite. And then another. And another.

The more she ate, the hungrier she seemed to become.

For the first time in days, her stomach wasn’t rejecting the food. Instead, it felt like it had finally remembered what hunger was.

The triplets watched her quietly and felt relieved. After all, they had spent the last week watching Maeve grow weaker and weaker, unable to keep down even the smallest amount of food.

No matter what they brought her, she would either push it away or force herself to eat only to feel sick afterward.

But now, she was eating on her own, and she looked happy while doing it.

"Wife," Ikarus said carefully, afraid of interrupting her meal, "do you want me to catch more Cindermaws later?"

Maeve paused mid-bite. A few seconds ago, she would have said absolutely not.

Now? She looked down at the remaining slices of Cindermaw’s brain, and then she looked at Ikarus.

"But I think I’ve already eaten a lot," Maeve said softly.

"What’s wrong with that?" Axan replied without hesitation. "If you’re still hungry, there’s nothing wrong with eating more."

Oh.

That was actually... something.

Back when she lived with her uncle’s family, they would usually say she was a glutton if she ate more than one plate of food. They would also call her greedy whenever she cleaned her plate so thoroughly that not a single grain of food was left behind.

Therefore, whenever she felt hungry, she would force herself to ignore it. Whenever she wanted a second plate, she would stop herself. Over time, she learned to eat less and less, afraid of hearing those words again.

Even after leaving that house, those voices had stayed with her.

"You’re eating too much."

"You’re so greedy."

"Have some shame."

For years, those words had followed her around like a shadow, but now... no one was glaring at her, no one was counting how many bites she took, and no one was waiting for a chance to criticize her.

Instead, the three men sitting around her looked relieved that she was finally eating.

"If you’re hungry, eat more," Axan said once more. "We can hunt more Cindermaws for you."

Maeve pressed her lips into a thin line. For a moment, she simply stared at the food in her hands, then she spoke in a voice so soft that it was almost swallowed by the wind. "If... if it’s not too much trouble, then alright..."

The moment those words left her mouth, the triplets froze, not because she wanted more Cindermaws, but because she had asked so carefully, as if she was afraid of being a burden.

Ikarus frowned. "Why would it be troublesome?" he asked.

Maeve blinked. "Well..." she hesitated. "You still have to spend time hunting them."

Cerus looked genuinely confused. "What’s wrong with that? It’s not even that troublesome."

Then, before Maeve could say anything else, he suddenly stood up. "Just wait a moment."

Maeve hadn’t even opened her mouth to respond when Cerus was already walking away from their resting spot.

When he said that he would be back soon, he truly meant it.

Maeve didn’t even have to wait for more than half an hour before Cerus returned to their resting spot carrying two more Cindermaws.

Oh, wait.

Maeve couldn’t even recognize them as Cindermaws anymore.

At some point, Cerus had apparently chopped off the heads and prepared everything far away from her so she wouldn’t have to look at the giant centipede-like monsters.

All that remained were several neatly arranged slices of brain placed on a smooth piece of wood.

"Go on," Cerus said with a bright smile. "You can eat it while the brains are still fresh."

Maeve was speechless for a moment before she finally said, "You actually caught two more?"

"Three," Cerus corrected.

Oh well.

It seemed that catching Cindermaws was as easy for him as going to the market.

Maeve didn’t want the meat to go bad, so she immediately started eating.

At first, she intended to stop after a few more bites, then a few more turned into several, and several turned into many.

Before she realized it, she had already eaten far more than she had planned.

The strange thing was that her stomach still didn’t feel upset.

"I’m full!" she declared, smacking the wooden log into the ground.

For the first time in over a week, the triplets could finally see a glimpse of the old Maeve again.

The pale, exhausted woman who barely had the energy to lift her head was gone.

Well, not completely gone. Her face was still a little pale, and she was still weaker than usual, but some of the life had returned to her eyes, even her voice sounded stronger.

And perhaps the biggest sign of all, she was no longer being unusually gentle.