Food

"Thanks." Berg murmured quietly.

"How is it?" she asked reluctantly. A part of her didn't want to hear the answer.

"It's…It's good." Frei replied.

She didn't reply, only displaying a sad smile and a noticeable shame on her face. She blew softly at the spoonful of soup and fed it to Frei.

The soup contained only a little bit of scattered meat, veggies and big, brownish bones, only put in to add flavor. The meat was tough and shredded, its fibers spreaded apart, and the veggies were soggy and flavorless. The broth itselves was insipid, like water, nearly tasteless if it wasn't for the seasoning added to the broth.

"I haven't eaten in a while," Frei muttered.

"That's why I'm here." 

She grabbed another spoonful and blew it again. "Drink" 

Frei drank it. "Why did you blow it? It's not hot"

The soup was cold.

Before it was fed to Berg and Frei, it underwent numerous cooking rounds. First the soup was fed to Wall, CornWall and their family, devouring only the rich nutrients within the refined soup. Its meat was picked down to the bone, and the vegetables were mostly untouched by them. After their rounds, it was then cooked again, re-heated for the attendees and maids to eat. They ate it. The only meat left were scattered scarcely, floating on top of the soup, and the vegetables were eaten but the ugly and disgusting ones were left in the broth. Then before reheated, the soup was given to the slaves in all areas. After it was devoured, the vegetables mostly devoured, the remains of meat were scattered and left barren, then compiled, replaced into the cauldron that it was cooked in. Only then, did Berg and Frei get to eat. Because basement dwellers do not deserve anything worthy that is for humans.

She hid her face, her enthusiasm now gone, knowing the things she was feeding them. Leftovers. Even though she didn't want to, she had no other options to feed them, for there is either no food for the shackled ones or the cold leftovers of others' meals. 

"It's a habit"

"Habit?"

"It's…not important."

"..."

She had no choice then. She didn't have the right. To add adequate ingredients for slaves without permission was equivalent to wishing for punishment after all. But even knowing that, a part of her felt an immense guilt of not being able to provide more for the boy she was so fond of. She knelt on the cold hard floor, and remained silent whilst feeding him. 

Soon the soup was emptied. 

"It's good, Thanks!" Frei repeated. 

"G-Good to hear!" She replied enthusiastically, displaying a big wide smile, but only as a facade to hide her shame. But the soup wasn't good, she knew it wasn't and she thought Frei was only comforting her. She lowered her gaze, attempting to avert her eyes from looking at Frei, she put the bowl down onto the ground and grabbed another one for Berg. However, she did not know that Frei only said that, because of his lack of understanding of good food. For he has never tasted anything grander than whatever she cooked, so in his own personal experience anything she cooked is good, just that he didn't know that she wasn't the one that cooked it.

She grabbed another spoonful then fed Berg. She didn't ask anything this time. She just continued to feed him while the only thing beside silence was the chewing and drinking sound Berg made.

"It's not bad." Berg muttered, in a husky tone. But unlike Frei's innocence and perhaps even ignorance, he knew what was fed to him. Yet he couldn't bring himself to blame the young girl. He's been here for 25 years, he knew how people would treat him and how insignificant he truly is.

"Thanks…" she said, mildly surprised by Berg's comment. As she didn't think he would say something like this. 

Soon another bowl was emptied.

"How long have you been here?" Berg asked, lowering his gaze onto her.

"4 Years" she said, her tone soft and gentle, depressing even.

"Ah… I see…Funny how I can remember the times where you helped us, feeding us because CornWall never did. Yet I couldn't remember when you first came."

Berg's words triggered a certain memory "Gloria" had before. A deep memory rooted within the deepest of depths inside her mind. 

"Yes Indeed. I was only sixteen when I first came here. It used to feel like a lifetime to me."

"It was fast to me though."

"Mhm" She nodded her head. "Drink the water"

After that she stood up and prepared to leave.

"Bye!" Frei exclaimed.

"..." Once again the brunette displayed a sad, melancholic smile at Frei. "Bye Frei. See you tomorrow." 

She opened the door to the staircase and murmured quietly. "Sorry"

*CLANG*

A loud clang echoed through the staircase yet again.

Frei's stomach suddenly growled very loudly, his stomach clearly yearning for more nourishment. His feet dangled in the air, his wrist shackled on the cuff anchored to the wall, it eventually started to hurt. But the painful growling of his stomach distracted him of the lesser pain. 

Two days have passed since Berg was released from the basement for extra assistance for the slaves outside, and as a way to isolate Frei. "Gloria" would constantly visit him with leftovers, in order satiate his hunger, not his desire for good food, and during the past two days, Frei was left alone hanging, and cuffed without company most of the time.

Frei continued to dangle in the air, his gaze no longer bright and his mind began to deteriorate slowly. Then, the iron door made its daily entrance, with a loud, thunderous clang that again echoed through the staircase.

Wall came again. Holding a medium sized bucket on his left hand and a knife that was infused with mana. Frei stared into Wall's eyes, knowing what's to come.