Half an hour later—
Anqiluo stared blankly as the little girl swallowed the last bite of steak. Beside her, the orange cat finished its portion as well.
Both of them looked satisfied.
"Thank you for your kindness, Father," the girl said politely. "I'm… about half full now."
Anqiluo's eye twitched.
Between the two of them, they had just eaten fifty steaks.
Number Six was already struggling to keep up in the kitchen, with Number One helping her.
These weren't ordinary steaks.
They came from the Cow Level—meat Anqiluo had brought from another world. Each piece contained far more energy than normal beef. One steak could easily fill an adult and even slightly improve physical condition.
For Anqiluo, it was just food.
But for ordinary people, the effect was significant.
And yet—
This little girl had eaten fifty.
At first, he thought she'd be in trouble after the third.
Then came shock… confusion… and finally, numb acceptance.
Her appetite was beyond abnormal.
Even without the extra energy in the meat, that amount alone should've overwhelmed any child.
Some kind of special ability?
Maybe.
But it didn't really matter to him.
She wasn't his daughter, and he didn't recognize her from anything he knew. Probably not someone important.
Still…
Looking at his remaining supply of meat, Anqiluo hesitated.
As cute as she was, he couldn't keep feeding her like this.
At this rate, his reserves wouldn't last long.
"So," Anqiluo said with a forced smile, "what are your parents' names? Do you have a phone number? I can call them to pick you up."
It wasn't her fault.
And she was too well-behaved to blame.
"My name is Ganata…" the girl said quietly.
Her expression dimmed.
"I haven't seen my father in a long time…"
Anqiluo paused.
"…Then how about I take you to a shelter?" he asked carefully. "They'll make sure you're fed."
He knew those places weren't always ideal.
Better to ask her first.
Ganata looked down, clearly disappointed.
But she still climbed down from the chair, bowed politely, and said,
"Thank you for the meal. I won't trouble you anymore. This should keep me from going hungry for a few days."
Then she turned and walked toward the door, holding the cat.
The orange cat, having eaten, seemed much friendlier. It even lifted a paw toward Anqiluo, as if saying goodbye.
Number One stepped out of the kitchen, hesitating like she wanted to speak—but said nothing.
The girl's small figure looked fragile as she left.
Abandoned?
Anqiluo couldn't quite describe what he felt.
Pity. Frustration. Something heavier.
No normal adult could watch a child like this—someone who needed a single meal to last days—and just ignore it.
And not just any child.
A polite, quiet one who never tried to guilt him into helping.
Hell's Kitchen had plenty of orphans.
Most of them grew up rough, doing whatever it took to survive.
He didn't help those kids.
Not because they didn't deserve it—but because they wouldn't listen.
But Ganata was different.
And that made it worse.
"…Forget it."
Anqiluo ran a hand through his hair.
"Ganata. Stay."
He sighed, irritated at himself.
He hadn't even figured out what to do with the nine women upstairs, and now he was taking on another responsibility.
Maybe her father abandoned her because she ate too much.
Still—
It wasn't impossible.
His storage still had plenty of meat. When it ran out, he'd figure something else out.
If necessary, he could even drag Tony Stark into it. The guy loved new tech—maybe he could come up with high-energy food solutions.
At his words, Number One's face lit up. She rushed outside and stopped Ganata.
Ganata turned back, her face full of disbelief.
When Number One brought her inside again, she stood in front of Anqiluo, looking up at him.
Her purple eyes were filled with hope, fear, and uncertainty.
"…Can I really stay?" she asked softly.
Like a stray kitten given shelter for the first time.
Anqiluo leaned down and gently patted her head.
"Yeah. You can stay. You'll get to eat every day."
Then he glanced at Number One.
"You can handle the extra food, right?"
"No problem," she said immediately. "All nine of us can help. The kitchen has enough burners."
Ganata hesitated, then pointed at the orange cat now on the floor.
"…What about my cat? If… if it can't stay, then I won't stay either. I can't leave my friend behind."
She struggled a bit with the wording, but the meaning was clear.
She wouldn't abandon the one companion she had.
"…Alright. The cat stays too," Anqiluo said. "And just call me Anqiluo."
One more mouth didn't matter much.
Though he hadn't forgotten the way the cat had hissed at him earlier.
He glanced at it.
"Does it have a name?"
The cat seemed to sense something and shuffled behind Ganata, only its round head peeking out.
"It's called Gugu," Ganata said, crouching to calm it.
Anqiluo nodded. "Alright. Gugu it is."
He gave the cat one last look.
The name felt oddly familiar.
But he couldn't place it.
Probably nothing.