The Gloomy Villain’s Short-Lived Little Sister

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 tr*sh, 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?]