An Overenthusiastic Caretaker

George sat comfortably in his crib, preparing to pop another pill into his mouth when suddenly, the door creaked open. His eyes darted toward the entrance, and there stood Elana, her big, innocent eyes filled with excitement. She held a small piece of bread in her tiny hands, her soft curls bouncing as she rushed toward him.

"Georgie!" she whispered loudly, as if sharing the most important secret in the world. "I brought you food!"

George blinked, momentarily stunned. He watched as Elana, with all the confidence of a self-proclaimed caretaker, tore off a small piece of bread and shoved it toward his lips. The dry texture pressed against his mouth, and he grimaced. Did she really think he could eat solid food yet?

Before he could push it away, the system flickered in his mind.

[Warning: Consuming unknown substances may have unpredictable effects on the host's developing body. Caution is advised.]

George exhaled sharply through his nose. He was already exasperated, but swallowing it was out of the question. Instead, he parted his lips slightly, allowing the bread to enter his mouth, then just held it there without chewing. Elana clapped her hands together in joy.

"Yay! You're eating!" she giggled, clearly proud of herself.

George sighed internally. If he spit it out now, she'd probably get upset. He decided to wait for the right moment to discreetly dispose of it. In the meantime, he had to endure her pleased expression as she prepared another bite.

Just as she was about to feed him more, Christine's voice echoed from the hallway. "Elana, where are you? You better not be disturbing your baby brother again!"

Elana jumped, looking guilty, then shot George a sheepish grin. "Shh! Don't tell Mama!" Then, with one last giggle, she bolted out of the room, leaving George sitting there with a piece of soggy bread in his mouth and an unreadable expression.

He quickly leaned over the side of the crib and discreetly let the piece fall to the floor. He made a mental note to be more cautious next time. The last thing he needed was an overly enthusiastic toddler force-feeding him.

Just then, the door creaked open again. Christine walked in, her gaze landing on George, who had an oddly neutral expression for a baby. Seeing nothing amiss, she sighed in relief and turned toward her own bed. She had intended to spend some time reading before continuing the day's preparations. Retrieving a leather-bound book from the nearby shelf, she set it down on the bed, intending to return to it later.

However, before she could even sit down, Marcus' voice echoed from downstairs.

"Christine! Come help me with the party preparations!"

Christine sighed lightly before saying, "Coming, honey."

As the door closed behind her, George shook his head. He focused back on his cultivation. He still had work to do.