The Gloomy Villain’s Short-Lived Little Sister

My older brother was a frail, food-averse Gloomy Villain.

In the original story, he was strung along by the heroine with delicious food until he was practically a dog.

Once she got bored of him, she threw him away like trash, and in the end, he starved to death in that villa.

But now, he had me.

His picky, greedy, bad-tempered, grudge-holding, petty little sister.

If a dish was even a little too bland or a little too salty, I wouldn’t eat it.

If the rice was even a little too hard or a little too soft, I wouldn’t swallow it.

I didn’t eat takeout.

I didn’t eat instant food.

If he hadn’t made it with his own hands, I wasn’t eating it.

I singled him out and tormented him exclusively.

So when the woman determined to conquer him showed up at my house with a food container, ready to discipline the gloomy puppy…

She took one look at the hulking man in the kitchen, expertly tossing a wok, and screamed so hard she broke down on the spot.

The bullet comments that had been rolling for five years beside us shook so violently they practically scattered everywhere:

[I’m dying. The mermaid in the pond turned into a Megalodon. Who wouldn’t have a breakdown?]