Chapter 1
The rain lashed against the window with a howl, accompanied by the ominous sound of wind, filling the air with an unsettling vibe. It was already eight in the evening, and the living room was shrouded in darkness, with only the flickering white glow from the television illuminating the room, casting a dim light on a cozy yellow blanket that quivered slightly on the sofa. “... According to observations from the Institute of Weather Lore, today’s severe rain in Ansgarburg is due to an unexpected hurricane. Forecasts suggest that this storm will linger over the city for three to five days. Citizens are advised to limit outdoor activities. Next, we will move on to today’s live coverage…” The sounds of the storm echoed through the television, blending with the roar of the rain outside, amplifying the urgency around her. As the blanket began to shake with increasing intensity, the top layer slipped down, revealing the exquisite face of a woman. “Ah… ah…” Isolde Fairchild arched her delicate neck, her gaze fixated on the ceiling, her lips flushed as soft, fragmented gasps escaped her mouth. Her exposed arm trembled up and down, and a moment later, with the crack of thunder, she froze for an instant before her body quivered and her movements ceased, her eyes void of focus. Minutes passed until the aftermath of her ecstasy faded completely. Isolde released a long breath, pulling her fingers from between her legs, raising them to examine them. Her slender, well-groomed fingers glistened, their nails neatly rounded, having been soaked for so long that they appeared almost translucent. She slightly spread her fingers, her gaze dropping to the sticky essence glistening on them, suspended like delicate silver threads that seem impossible to break. Just like some habits, they were simply impossible to shake off. Isolde bit her lip, tossing aside the blanket and rising, she crouched beside the coffee table, gathered her notebook, and scribbled down her thoughts. [Today’s seventh session of self-indulgence; Trigger: a moment of reflection. Duration of resistance: Tobias, approximately ten seconds.] Above this entry were previous records, leading back to a month’s worth of reflections. Some were about self-pleasure, others involved props. The reasons were varied—ranging from accidentally swallowing toothpaste while brushing her teeth, which made her crave a bubble, to breaking chopsticks at dinner that made her feel as if her legs were being spread. Overall, it sounded outlandish, but… With a snap, she closed the notebook, revealing its title on the cover. Chronicles of Desire. Somehow, everything made sense again. Isolde tucked the notebook into the drawer of the coffee table, switched off the TV with the remote, and stood up, strolling towards the floor-to-ceiling window. Her loose long T-shirt barely covered her backside, exposing her slender, straight legs. She leaned against the window, momentarily holding the cigarette she had brought from the table, igniting it. The flame danced wildly before extinguishing, leaving just a faint glow between her fingers. But she didn’t smoke. Isolde had no craving for cigarettes; it was merely a ritual she adopted after each climax, akin to the women she had read about in novels—like holding a special ceremony, using the smoke to fill the void left behind. The rain intensified, draping the window in a curtain of water, blurring the outside lights to mere shapes. Street lamps, car headlights, and lights from houses all melded into a haze. Suddenly, she found herself losing interest in looking outside.
Chapter 2
Isolde Fairchild found herself rooted to the spot, her eyes lost in the mesmerizing glow of her phone. After what felt like an eternity, the shrill sound of a notification cut through her daydreaming. She glanced over at her phone on the couch, the screen flashing insistently. With a moment's hesitation, she rose and answered it. “Isolde! Did you check the group chat? The school just announced that classes are canceled for the next few days due to the hurricane. That’s a whole five-day break! Plus the weekend before and the weekend after—I can hardly believe we have nine days off!” Eleanor Willow's excited voice buzzed through the phone. Suppressing a chuckle, Isolde replied, “Just a friendly reminder that tomorrow is Monday. You technically only have seven days off.” From the other end, Eleanor scoffed playfully, “Seven days is still a windfall! What’s your point?” “I was just wondering... did you spend the entire day napping in the dorm again?” Isolde teased. “Sure did! I’m just getting out of bed now. Tell me, what’s your point?” Eleanor asked. “Boom!” Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of a door slamming echoed, followed by the cries of two girls entering the dorm. “Oh my gosh, we made it back to the dorm! I thought I might not survive out there!” one exclaimed, breathlessly. “Someone save me! I am never dieting again! I nearly got blown away!” another added. Eleanor’s eyes widened as she looked at the soggy duo, baffled. “Weren’t you two just at the study room? What happened, did you fall into a river?” Margaret Holloway caught Eleanor's glance and sighed, “Willow, I envy your ability to sleep through it all.” Hearing Margaret's complaint made Isolde burst into laughter, and she chimed in, “And I think you forgot the reason for the break is the hurricane! With this downpour, tomorrow's storm will only be worse. We’ll be stuck indoors with no chance to travel—better just hunker down in the dorm!” After ignoring the moans coming from Eleanor and Margaret, Isolde hung up, a smile still dancing on her lips. This little disruption had certainly lifted her mood. Suddenly aware of her empty stomach, she eagerly padded barefoot to the kitchen, determined to whip up something delicious as a treat for herself. As she walked, she commanded her AI assistant to brighten the lights throughout her apartment. The AI complied, gradually illuminating the room to avoid blinding her. Feeling cheerful, she hummed a tune as she opened the fridge, her mind already crafting the perfect dinner recipe. A rush of cold air met her, instantly freezing her smile. The fridge was completely bare—no vegetables, no steaks or shrimp, no eggs or ribs. Not a single item. Wait… where were her groceries? Oh right. Earlier that day, overcome with cravings, she had impulsively skipped her shopping trip for a personal indulgence at The Lord’s Rest. Toss in the afternoon's torrential downpour, and she had completely forgotten to restock. “Great…” Isolde closed the fridge door, a frustrated frown settling on her face. She flopped back onto the couch, contemplating ordering takeout. But it was a hurricane day—no restaurant was delivering. Every app highlighted the storm warning, and even delivery services had suspended their operations. “Forget it. I’ll just go to sleep. If I’m asleep, I won’t feel hunger,” she mumbled to herself, pulling a cozy blanket over her. However, after tossing and turning for over an hour, sleep remained elusive. If anything, her hunger intensified. An earlier indulgence had left her feeling a bit off, and at lunch, she barely managed to pick up her chopsticks before giving in to her desires instead of eating. Now, her stomach churned with hunger pangs, making her feel dizzy. Desperately, she even contemplated scavenging through the trash. Wait a minute… she’d thrown her trash out too! Even if the leftovers from lunch had remained, it was pointless. The hurricane was predicted to last at least three days, meaning she was stuck indoors with no chance of running to the store or even ordering food. She couldn’t survive on a single leftover meal for that long! “Is it possible that I’m going to starve to death today?” Isolde groaned dramatically, clutching her mostly empty trash can, tears of regret prickling her eyes. Suddenly, she recalled seeing someone moving into the neighboring apartment. A moving truck had been outside yesterday, but she hadn’t caught a glimpse of who lived next door. Maybe they had food? Surely, they wouldn’t mind helping a poor neighbor out in an emergency. With renewed hope igniting her spirits, Isolde jumped to her feet. She moved a little too quickly—her vision momentarily blackened, but she steadied herself against the wall, taking a moment to collect herself before proceeding cautiously. Taking slow, deliberate steps, she made her way to the neighbor’s door, taking a deep breath before pressing the doorbell. Silence. Isolde refused to give up and rang the bell again. Still nothing. Panic tightened her chest as her stomach growled ominously. What if the new neighbors hadn’t even moved in yet? Her building was a two-unit setup, just her and the people next door. If they had simply moved furnishings in but weren’t actually living there yet… With tears of despair threatening to spill, she slid down the doorframe, landing on her backside. Just as she pulled out her phone to call her landlord for help, suddenly, the door swung open.
Chapter 3
Isolde Fairchild looked up and saw the tall, striking figure in the doorway. Dressed in a simple white tee and black pants, his long legs were enviable, drawing her gaze more than once. The tee hung loosely, and from her angle, she could see the well-defined muscles of his abdomen through the hem… Looking higher, she noted his extraordinary face—smooth features complemented by a sharp nose, thin lips, and a pair of epicanthic eyes. There was even a captivating beauty mark just beneath his left eye, making him so handsome that she felt as if she were staring at a celebrity. His gaze lowered slightly, and when he noticed her sitting there, he raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on here?” His voice was deep and resonant, laced with an effortless charm that made Isolde’s heart flutter. Struggling to pull herself away from his allure, she blinked away a couple of tears to enhance her pitiable appearance and weakly asked, “Um, do you have any food at your house?” “…” Cedric Thorne paused for a few seconds, unable to help but break into a chuckle. Crossing his arms and leaning casually against the doorframe, he replied, “Is the competition that fierce in your line of work? You’re out here begging for food in the middle of a storm.” “Yes, please listen to reason,” Isolde Fairchild replied, playing along with his teasing. “My family is completely out of food, and I haven’t eaten in a day and a night…” The smile on Cedric’s face widened. “Really? So what are you in the mood for?” Isolde gulped, “Anything, I’m not picky. I just need something to eat.” Truthfully, she was quite picky about her food, but in this moment of desperation, she couldn’t afford to be choosy. Even celery—her least favorite—would do in a pinch. She shakily pushed herself up from where she sat, every small movement making her dizzy. Trying to clear her head, she muttered softly, “I really…really need…to eat…” Before she could finish her sentence, a loud buzzing filled her head, and her vision faded to black as she lost consciousness. Cedric Thorne, still processing the situation, barely had time to react before she collapsed. He sprang forward, rushing outside just in time to catch her before she hit the ground. “Whew…” He exhaled in relief, gazing down at the girl in his arms, her eyelids fluttering shut as he frowned slightly. “Isolde Fairchild…Isolde, wake up…” As he debated whether to call 911, he heard her stomach let out a series of rumbling growls. “Grrrgh—” Cedric blinked, his irritation fading into a bemused smile. “Wow, you really did faint from hunger. And here I thought I was the one worrying too much.” Knowing she had merely fainted from hunger eased his concern. He scooped her up in his arms, preparing to carry her inside. However, the princess hold made her loose tee ride up a bit. Cedric Thorne swore he was only glancing, creating an innocent mental note to avert his eyes right after. He certainly didn’t expect the area covered by the tee to be entirely exposed.
Chapter 4
Isolde Fairchild's bare lower half was completely exposed, her tightly closed legs still revealing half of her delicate womanhood. Upon closer inspection, her rosy, tender clitoris could be seen nestled between her petals, quivering pitiably with each breath she took. Cedric Thorne abruptly turned his head away, his chest heaving as he swallowed hard. Eventually, he muttered under his breath, "Damn it—" He quickly gathered Isolde into his arms and carried her inside, closing the door behind him. Looking down at the girl, whose serene, sleeping face lay cradled in his arms, he sighed wearily and spoke softly, “Running to a red-blooded man's home in the middle of the night without wearing any underwear, Isolde Fairchild, you’re quite bold now, aren’t you?” Pausing for a moment, he pressed his tongue against his cheek and let out a low chuckle, his voice slightly husky. “Are you coming to ask for food, or are you offering yourself up?” Carrying the soft, warm bundle into the guest room, he laid her gently on The Lord’s Rest and then loomed over her, his gaze fixated on her crimson lips. In the end, however, he sighed deeply, burying his head in the crook of her neck with a muffled laugh, full of helplessness. “Let’s get you fed first.” After carefully tucking her under the covers, Cedric Thorne left the guest room and headed to his study. In the center of the study stood a red gaming chair and a glowing computer screen showing a live broadcast with the viewership already surpassing 8 million. Without sitting down, he leaned against the chair and pushed his face close to the camera, ensuring his fans could see him clearly. With a smile, he said, “Sorry, everyone. A stray cat came to my door begging for food. I'll have to get some food for it. Let's call it a night for now. I'll make it up to you later.” The chat exploded with messages: [Oh my God, Thorne's looks are unbeatable! Even close up, he’s drop-dead gorgeous!] [It's really rough for stray cats in this stormy weather. There are so many of them huddling in our building too. That’s so kind-hearted of you, Thorne. The cat will definitely thank you.] [Absolutely, the poor thing must be starving. You go feed it, Thorne. We'll be generous and take a double stream tomorrow as compensation!] Reading a message about compensating with double streaming time, Cedric Thorne chuckled lowly, “Yeah, it’s starving... double streaming, huh? That might not happen. If a cat shows up at your door, naturally you gotta take care of it first. Bye everyone.” He then shut down the live broadcast, not giving his fans a chance to argue. The fans who were abruptly booted from the live stream flocked to social media, demanding he fulfill his promise of a double stream tomorrow. Amid the chatter, one fan had a sudden realization. [Wait a minute... didn’t Thorne only go to the door because we heard the doorbell? How could a stray cat ring the doorbell?] But this comment quickly got buried under the flood of messages demanding extra streaming time, sinking to the bottom.
Chapter 5
The savory aroma of cooking wafted through the cracks of the door, rousing Willow's hungry cat from its slumber. Isolde Fairchild blinked awake in a strange room, momentarily startled. She quickly sat up, checking her clothing. Her top was intact, albeit without a bra, which was a tad embarrassing. But her lower half… where were her panties? Anger surged within her, and she flung the covers aside, leaping out of bed and rushing out of the room. Scanning the space, she spotted the man from earlier—Cedric Thorne—emerging from the kitchen with a plate of mouthwatering sautéed mushrooms and meat. He lazily glanced her way before turning his attention back to the dining table, teasing, “You look energized after that nap. Guess you don’t need any food.” Isolde's eyes were glued to the delectable dish he carried, then flitted to the other neatly arranged dishes on the table. Her mouth watered, and she swallowed hard. Hearing Cedric's quip, she waved dismissively, “I absolutely need to eat!” Regarding her missing underwear, she reconsidered. It was her own fainting spell that had landed her in this situation, not any wrongdoing on his part. Plus, as a striking beauty, if she'd fainted in front of a decent man, surely he would have shown some restraint—unless he had some peculiar issues. Moreover, she could tell nothing inappropriate had happened, and she hadn’t lost anything else—just her underwear, which he likely removed out of curiosity. So she decided to let bygones be bygones. The storm outside was fierce, and police wouldn’t be nearby to assist anyway. Besides, she couldn’t exactly explain her predicament, given that she’d shown up uninvited. Quickly weighing the pros and cons, she decided it was more pressing to fill her stomach than to dwell on these thoughts. Cedric shrugged, giving her a sidelong glance. “The bowls are in the sterilizer, rice is in the pot. Serve yourself.” “Roger that!” Isolde replied cheerfully. Underneath the countertop was a dish sterilizer alongside a dishwasher. Isolde guessed he probably had a bit of a cleanliness obsession. Opening the sterilizer, she pulled out some utensils and hurried to scoop rice from the pot. When she set her meal down across from him, Cedric found himself momentarily speechless. He stared at her overly generous bowl of rice, took a deep breath, and decided it was better off ignored. He picked up his chopsticks and began to eat. Isolde, slightly embarrassed, explained, “I’m just so hungry! I could devour a cow and a pig right now…” Cedric nonchalantly plucked a piece of meat from his plate and added it to her bowl. “Sorry, you’ll have to settle for bits of beef and pork for now. Once this storm passes, I’ll head to the farm and bring back a whole cow.” His casual motion of serving her didn’t feel awkward at all, and Isolde, encouraged by his words, let her gaze wander across the table laden with food: braised pork, tomato beef, stir-fried king oyster mushrooms, and hand-torn cabbage. These were all comfort foods she adored. Her eyes widened in surprise and she felt tears prick at her eyes. “Wow, you like these dishes too? What a coincidence! It’s so rare to meet someone with such similar taste in a world filled with so many options…” she exclaimed. “It’s not coincidence; I made sure to prepare what you like,” Cedric replied with a playful smirk, tapping his fingers on the table. Isolde set down her chopsticks and pushed her bowl to the side. Placing her hands on the table, she bowed her head, dramatically thudding it down on her hands. “Please, can you help me out for a few days, given this cosmic connection we share?” Cedric's heart jumped. He feared she might knock herself out again. Her voice, however, still had enough spark, so he relaxed, glad she was okay. “Helping you out for a few days is fine, but what’s in it for me?” he asked, casually serving her another helping of food while probing for her answer.
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