The meat was still clutched in my hand, untouched, the juices glistening under the flickering firelight as the tribe feasted around me. Their teeth tore into the flesh, their lips smeared with grease, their laughter mingling with the crackle of the flames.
I pretended to take a bite, my jaw moving slowly, chewing nothing, swallowing air. The taste—raw, gamey, unseasoned—lingered in my imagination, making my stomach twist with disgust.
Then—
An idea struck me.
Why not?
I bit into the meat—hard—my teeth sinking into the charred flesh. But before it could touch my tongue, before the flavor could register, I sent it straight to the System Storage.
The moment it vanished, I took another bite—and another—and another—chewing nothing, swallowing nothing, but keeping up the act perfectly. The others didn't notice. They were too busy eating, too busy laughing, too busy living in this raw, unfiltered world.
