Washing the Dishes?

Stel chopped the onions and garlic he had brought back into small pieces. He heated the pan, covering the surface with a thin golden layer of oil. As the pan heated, the golden oil started to sizzle and bubble slightly. Stel carefully laid the steak flat in the pan.

"Sizzle, sizzle!"

The sound of frying filled the kitchen as a rich aroma of meat quickly spread. The scent was intoxicating!

Squatting nearby, Elsie couldn't help but drool as the long-forgotten smell filled her nostrils. Stel skillfully sautéed the ingredients, adding various seasonings at just the right moment based on the color of the steak. The inviting aroma wafted out of the kitchen, spreading throughout the entire community. 

Having grown accustomed to the stench of rotting zombies, this scent was like a dream come true!

"Wow, where's that smell coming from?" The delicious aroma reached the rooms of other survivors.

"Clatter!"

A survivor on the eighth floor, who was gnawing on a stale bun, smelled the scent and looked bewildered.

"Am I imagining things because I'm so hungry? Where's that grilled meat smell coming from?"

"Thud!"

The man threw aside the rock-hard bun and scrambled to the balcony, taking a deep breath.

"Ah—!"

The delightful aroma filled his lungs. It was incredibly fragrant! Much better than the hard buns he was eating.

"Who the hell has the audacity to eat meat at a time like this?" he grumbled. "And they're frying it!"

He looked back at his empty fridge and the few moldy pieces of bread on the table, feeling a pang of envy and frustration.

The man had managed to endure this harsh life, but the scent of the meat broke his resolve. Overwhelmed by sadness, he muttered to himself, "Damn it, living like this is worse than dying!"

Grasping the balcony railing, he swung himself over, planting his feet on the ledge. Below him, a horde of zombies gathered. From the eighth floor, a fall would either kill him instantly or leave him severely injured and at the mercy of the zombies.

"Damn!" he shouted, trying to muster courage. He closed his eyes, inhaled the tantalizing aroma one last time, and leaped.

"Thud!"

After a few seconds of free fall, he hit the ground, head first. The impact left him a bloody mess.

"Grrrrr!!!"

The zombies, drawn by the fresh scent of human flesh, swarmed his body. He was dead, his head shattered, preventing him from turning into a zombie—a small mercy amidst the horror.

Twenty minutes later, Stel carefully monitored the cooking time. With a final flip, he turned off the heat and divided the steak into two portions, placing them on two plates. To ensure a perfect dining experience, Elsie had scrubbed the plates until they gleamed, reflecting light like mirrors.

Stel carried the plates to the dining table, where golden-brown steaks awaited, generously seasoned. He had even added black pepper and ketchup to enhance the presentation and flavor.

Elsie, as usual, instinctively pulled her plate toward her, intending to squat on the ground and savor her meal. This was probably the best meal she had since the zombie outbreak. Grasping her knife and fork, she was ready to dig in.

While frying the steak, Stel also made a pot of soup with the leftover trimmings. If the meat turned out too salty, they could sip some soup to balance the flavor.

"Master, thank you! This is the best thing I've ever eaten in my life!" Elsie was almost moved to tears as she looked at the steak in front of her.

"Look at you, so pathetic," Stel remarked. Then, after a pause, he continued, "Alright, today you can sit at the table to eat."

What?!

Elsie's eyes widened in disbelief. Did those words really come out of Stel's mouth? Where did he say she could sit? At the table?!

"Master, are you, are you just messing with me?" Elsie asked timidly.

"What's the point of messing with someone like you?" Stel replied. "It's just that today's meal is better than usual. I don't want to see you eating like a dog and ruin my appetite."

So that's the reason...

Elsie understood that there wasn't even a one-in-a-million chance that Stel would show her any genuine care. His view of her had never changed—she was merely a tool, convenient for use whenever needed.

"I understand..." Elsie nodded. She picked up her plate and sat across from Stel. 

Stel cut into his steak and tore off a big chunk, chewing it with relish. "The pieces are big, but after being frozen for so long, the texture isn't great," he commented. The taste was acceptable, though the texture was lacking. But considering it was the apocalypse, being able to eat steak at all was a significant blessing.

Elsie couldn't care less about the texture. She was too focused on eating. At first, she tried to be dainty, cutting small pieces and using her fork to eat them slowly. However, after tasting the first bite of meat...

Elsie couldn't control herself and stuffed the remaining meat into her mouth, eating with far less decorum than Stel. When faced with hunger, humans revert to their primal instincts. Who has the luxury to consider anything else?

However, joyful moments are always fleeting. Stel hadn't cooked much meat, so the meal ended quickly. Elsie, still craving more, licked her knife and fork clean of any remaining sauce. Stel, on the other hand, remained composed. He knew that he wouldn't lack meat for a long time, so he didn't see the need to savor this meal excessively.

"Are you full?" Stel asked, turning to look at Elsie.

"Not yet... I mean, yes, I'm full!" Elsie replied. Despite still feeling unsatisfied, she knew that Stel wouldn't cook another meal or allow her to eat more of their supplies. Her only option was to say she was full.

"Good. Since you're full, go ahead and wash the dishes," Stel commanded. Household chores, which Stel had initially handled for a few days, had become Elsie's responsibility.

"Yes, sir," Elsie replied naturally, without any objection. She picked up the plates and headed to the kitchen. Stel lay down on the bed, deep in thought.

Suddenly, a sound of licking came from the kitchen.

"Are you sure you're washing the dishes?" Stel called out.