6 A Rose Dedicated to Dior (6)

With his silver tongue, Mumuye finally persuaded the system to get him some more food.

Being young and having a small appetite, a little was enough to fill him up. The key was that the food provided by the system tasted excellent, and he ate his fill with great satisfaction.

After wiping his mouth, he lay down to rest, leaving a few soft, fragrant mini-loaves of bread behind for Dio.

He had absolutely no intention of doing any work. After all, he had left food for the others and had already gone out to gather firewood for cooking earlier—he felt he had worked hard enough for one day.

When Dio returned from outside, he saw Mumuye lying on the old sofa in their home. The reason that sofa hadn't been sold off by Dario to buy alcohol was simply because Dario also liked to sprawl out on it to rest, which was the only thing that had saved it.

The little good-for-nothing was lying in a position even more relaxed than that old drunkard, looking like a puddle of soft water draped lazily across the furniture. She was so thin and small that she barely took up any space at all. If Dio hadn't specifically looked for her upon his return, he probably wouldn't have even noticed her.

He let out a cold sneer.

He hadn't expected this brat to have learned nothing; instead of trying every way possible to please him in exchange for food, she was sleeping soundly and sweetly, completely oblivious to the world.

Dio walked over, but then noticed something odd.

The little girl’s shirt was quite form-fitting, and he could see that her small belly was slightly rounded, not as sunken and thin as it had been that morning.

It was clear at a glance that she was well-fed.

For a young, pampered girl who had just arrived in the slums to be able to fill her stomach, the food must have been of decent quality. But Dio remembered very clearly that their household pantry was completely empty—where could she have possibly found extra food to eat?

With this doubt in mind, he turned his head and spotted the few small loaves of bread sitting on the table. Each was about the size of his palm, round and fluffy, with an enticing golden hue that made them look soft and sweet.

How could such bread appear in their house?

Dio’s mood grew complex.

Mumuye was sleeping soundly when he was awakened by the system. He was extremely annoyed, waking up and rubbing his mouth to check if he had been drooling.

The system told him to look to his left.

Mumuye did as he was told, and as he turned, he saw Dio standing in the shadows.

His blond hair was cast in darkness, his red eyes lacked luster, and his pale, cold cheeks made him look like a hauntingly beautiful young vampire who had just crawled out of a coffin.

Mumuye was startled.

Dio was not aware that he looked frightening.

Seeing the girl on the sofa finally wake up, he was spared the trouble of having to call out to her. He watched as her snowy cheeks were flushed from sleep, and her clear, black-and-white eyes, though groggy at first, slowly began to clear up upon seeing him.

This meant that Mumuye was in awe of him.

Dio was extremely satisfied with her attitude. He asked, "Where did that bread come from?"

Mumuye opened his mouth and began to spout nonsense: "I begged for it in the rich district. They saw how cute I was and were generous enough to give me some good food."

Dio didn't say a word, and it was unclear whether he believed it or not.

"Then why bring it back instead of hiding it? Aren't you afraid I'll steal it from you?" After a moment, Dio said, his tone neither hot nor cold.

The small girl in front of him replied in a matter-of-fact tone: "I brought it back for you to eat, so why would I hide it?"

Dio was silent for a while, finding her behavior difficult to understand.

After thinking about it, he didn't act like Dario, who was solely focused on his own survival without regard for others. He rarely showed a spark of mercy and told the black-haired brat, "You don't know if those people giving out charity do it on a whim or regularly. Perhaps they only gave you food today because they felt like it. You might not have such good luck tomorrow or the day after."

The implication was that she should hide what she begged for instead of being so generous.

It was a rare moment of well-intentioned advice from him.

Mumuye was still proudly saying to the system: [See? I told you that selfless devotion would move the villain. I’m such a genius.]

The system was speechless.

In reality, Dio had only said those few words to Mumuye, but he had no intention of refusing her food. After speaking, he picked up the bread Mumuye had left for him.

Just as it looked, it felt fluffy and soft, the surface smooth and fine, emitting a faint scent of wheat.

Dio took a bite, and it tasted soft and airy, lacking even a hint of the rock-hard, tooth-cracking texture of black bread, and it had a wonderful sweetness.

Such delicious bread couldn't be cheap; it was likely something only the wealthy gentlemen and ladies in the rich district could afford.

Dio glanced at Mumuye.

This Eastern girl did indeed have a delicate little face. He had been stunned by it the first time they met, but he didn't consider himself ugly either, and being good-looking in the slums wasn't much of an advantage, so he hadn't felt much about it back then.

But this time, the impact was profound. He stared at her carefully, not missing a single detail. Her raven hair and brows, dark eyes, straight nose, pale skin, and red lips made her look a bit like the Snow White from the fairy tales. If such a princess were born into reality, she might look exactly like this.

Perhaps only such a beautiful face could make those wealthy people, who were usually stingy and disgusted by the poor, let a little bit of their wealth slip through their fingers.

Mumuye felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

Dio reminded her, "Don't let those rich people trick you. Don't go selling yourself off somewhere just for a bit of food."

The Eastern brat retorted defiantly: "I'm not a fool! Even your father hasn't completely bought my freedom!"

Dio remained noncommittal to her words.

He ate the sweet bread—something he hadn't even been able to eat back when his mother was still alive and the family shop hadn't gone under—and felt a sense