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((The Monday Triple: page 3 of 3))
Garovel grabbed Hector’s shoulder, and Hector felt all of his lingering soreness vanish. ‘Just give it a try,’ the reaper said. ‘I’ve heard it’s not as bad as it looks.’

Hector was suspicious. ‘...Why did you just numb my pain?’

‘Zeff’s misty armor is protecting you on the outside, but it won’t save your insides from burning like hell when you eat this stuff.’

Hector squinted. If he wasn’t so famished, he might’ve just quit then and there. He looked around the long table to see what everyone else thought of the meal and noticed a few other hesitaters, but none who were flat out refusing. He gave his food another look. ‘What’s this weird porridge stuff?’

‘Uh...’

Hector cocked an eyebrow as he waited.

‘You sure you want me to answer that?’ said Garovel.

‘Just tell me.’

‘Alright. I’m pretty sure it’s worm.’

Hector’s jaw clenched inside his closed mouth, and his whole face went taut, though the constant stream of mist around him rendered it unnoticeable.

‘The bowl there is made from the dried husk and is also edible, if you’re interested.’

He wasn’t.

‘C’mon, where’s your courage? I told you, so now you’ve gotta try it. You never know. You might like it. Certain types of worms are considered a delicacy.’

Fair was fair, Hector supposed. He gathered his composure, grabbed the boxy-spoon utensil in front of him, and tried the wormy porridge first.

Huh.

Now there was a new taste. He had a difficult time even describing it to himself. Meaty was one word for it. Sour was another. But this texture. Chewy and sludgy at the same time. If beef and chicken had been put in a blender until they had a soupy consistency, then perhaps this would be the result.

Mainly, he was just surprised that he didn’t hate it. In fact, maybe it was just because of how hungry he was, but he actually kind of enjoyed it. The same could be said of the romodendra. It was insanely tough, almost like a strip of tree bark, and yet somehow, it complimented the worm pretty well, he thought.