Apocalypse: I Have A Multiplier System - Chapter 359

Chapter 359: Chapter 359: Vomitting

Even Su Jin, typically reserved, allowed himself a small smile as he leaned against the cool metal railing of the kitchen counter.

“This is… better than I imagined.”

Just as he finished speaking, a knock echoed through the room. The family exchanged glances before Su Rong, who had remained silent up until now, moved to answer it. She pulled the door open, revealing Su Yun standing outside, holding a thermal box in her hands.

Without preamble, Su Yun extended the box toward them.

“There’s food inside,” she said curtly.

Her expression was unreadable, her tone devoid of warmth.

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and walked away, disappearing down the hallway before anyone could say a word.

Wei Xin bristled at the perceived slight.

“The nerve of that girl! Not even a proper greeting? She acts as if we’re strangers!”

“To her, we are,” Su Rong murmured, but her mother paid her no mind.

Huffing, Wei Xin carried the thermal box to the dining table and opened it. The moment she lifted the lid, a strong, unfamiliar scent filled the room.

The dish appeared to be some kind of porridge, its consistency thick and unappealing. Alongside it were a few pieces of unidentifiable dried meat and a small serving of wilted greens.Still, hunger gnawed at them. Wei Xin took it upon herself to serve her son first, handing Su Han a steaming bowl of the porridge. “Eat,” she instructed. “You need your strength.”

Su Han barely hesitated before taking a spoonful.

The moment the food hit his tongue, however, his face twisted in disgust.

He spat it onto the floor, his expression one of utter revulsion. “What the hell is this? It’s disgusting!”

Su Jin, frowning, took a cautious bite himself.

A second later, his face mirrored Su Han’s, and he swallowed with difficulty, his throat working against the unpleasant taste.

“It’s bitter… and the texture is awful,” he muttered.

Wei Xin, unwilling to believe it could be as bad as they claimed, took a bite as well. Almost instantly, she gagged. “She did this on purpose!” she exclaimed, slamming her spoon onto the table. “This isn’t food—it’s pig slop!”

Despite the chorus of complaints, Su Rong remained seated, untouched by the commotion. She hadn’t even picked up her spoon.

Her sharp eyes flickered toward the thermal box, her expression thoughtful.

She had anticipated this.

Feigning a yawn, Su Rong pushed back her chair. “I’m tired,” she announced. “I’ll be in my apartment.”

Without another word, she rose and left, her posture as elegant as ever. Fu Wei, who had observed the entire exchange in silence, followed after her without a word.

Soon both of them went to their apartment. Su Rong took a shower and Fu Wei took a shower too.

Both of them were exhausted and without a word, fell into the bed.

The room was dark and silent, the only sound a faint hum of the air conditioning unit.

Su Rong’s breathing was steady as she lay curled beneath the soft blankets, her body heavy with exhaustion.

Yet her mind was restless, slipping into uneasy dreams as she drifted into unconsciousness.

Su Yun worked meticulously, gathering the worst of what the market had to offer.

Then, as the day stretched on, she waited—waited for time to complete its work, for the ingredients to wither further under the heat, for the remnants of their nutrients to seep away, leaving behind nothing but a bitter, useless husk.

The scene shifted. The once-bustling market was gone, replaced by a dimly lit, decrepit kitchen.

Su Yun stood over a pot of bubbling porridge, its contents thick and murky.

The smell was putrid, a sour blend of fermented grains and stagnant water.

Her lips curled into a smirk as she reached for a sack of rice, her fingers sinking into the grains with deliberate malice.

This wasn’t fresh rice—it was old, infested with mold, its natural color dulled by age.

With slow, almost ritualistic movements, she scooped the rice into the pot, watching as the grains melted into the boiling water, thickening the porridge into a viscous sludge.

Then, without hesitation, she lifted a hand to her face, pressing a finger against her nose and pulling away a long, glistening strand of mucus.

With a twisted sense of purpose, she let it drop into the pot, stirring it in with measured strokes.

The sickly mixture frothed under the movement of her ladle, the contamination vanishing beneath the surface.

The nightmare did not stop there.

Next, Su Yun turned toward a bucket placed near the stove.

The water inside was murky, tainted with filth, a grayish-brown hue swirling within. She lifted the bucket with both hands, tilting it carefully over the pot.

The thick, grimy liquid cascaded into the mixture, blending seamlessly with the spoiled ingredients.

The realization hit Su Rong like a blow—this was no ordinary water.

This was the water Su Yun had used to wash her feet, the very dregs of filth collected from a day’s worth of sweat and dirt. And now, it was the base of the porridge they had eaten.

The sight made Su Rong gag in her dream, the acrid bile rising in her throat as she fought the overwhelming nausea.

She wanted to wake up. She needed to wake up.

But the dream had one last torment for her.

Su Yun turned, a thermal box in her hands, the same one she had given them earlier that night.

Her expression was one of quiet amusement as she carried it toward the Su family, her steps slow, deliberate.

The porridge sloshed inside, its vile contents hidden beneath an innocent-seeming lid.

Su Yun’s voice was a whisper in the back of Su Rong’s mind.

“Eat well.”

With a gasp, Su Rong’s eyes snapped open.

The darkness of her bedroom swallowed her, but the echoes of her nightmare clung to her like a suffocating shroud.

Her stomach lurched violently, and without a second thought, she threw back the blankets and stumbled toward the bathroom.

She barely made it in time before she collapsed over the toilet, her body convulsing as she vomited.