She Stole My Life to Be Perfect

The moment I bit into that signature strawberry tart, I didn't taste sweet and sour; instead, I felt a hollow sensation, like chewing on wax.

At first, I thought it was just the lingering effects of a cold, until my weight dropped by fifteen pounds within a month. My eye sockets grew sunken, and my hair fell out in clumps. Meanwhile, my stepsister Mia, who had been frail and sickly since childhood, grew more radiant by the day in my apartment. She took over my beauty endorsements and clung to my fiancé.

Looking at my skeletal reflection in the mirror, I finally understood: my life was being slowly drained away by something invisible.

But what she didn't know was that plundering came with a price.

I sat in the most popular dessert shop near Lakeview University, a newly bitten strawberry tart sitting in front of me. A ring light shone on my face, and the camera pointed directly at me.

"Today, I'm bringing you this shop's hidden menu," I said to the camera, my voice sounding steady. "The legendary signature strawberry tart."

I forked a small piece into my mouth and chewed slowly, maintaining a professional smile on my face.

There was no taste. Nothing at all. I couldn't perceive the sweet tartness of the strawberries, the creaminess of the frosting, or even the most basic sweetness of sugar. My tongue felt like a piece of dead meat chewing on a wad of cotton.

I froze in place, the fork in my hand trembling slightly. I took another bite to confirm, but there was still absolutely nothing.

"This... is really good." I heard myself lie, my voice tinged with a hint of dryness.

The moment the camera stopped rolling, I jumped up and rushed into the restroom. I locked the door behind me, gripped the sink, and spat out everything in my mouth. My stomach spasmed, and I dry-heaved a couple of times before barely managing to stand up straight.

This was already the third week. First, salty flavors faded, then spiciness vanished. Now, I had completely lost all sense of taste.

I looked up at the mirror and gasped. My once-full cheeks had caved in, my collarbones stuck out like two sharp blades, and my skin was so dull that even the most expensive foundation couldn't cover it up.

I opened the electronic medical report from the student health center on my phone, the rows of numbers piercing my eyes.

"Chloe, your blood test results are terrible." Yesterday, Dr. Smith looked at the report with his brows furrowed tightly, tapping his fingers on the desk. "Severe malnutrition, electrolyte imbalance, and multiple vitamin deficiencies. Have you been secretly inducing vomiting? Do you have an eating disorder?"

"I eat normally every day!" I almost roared, clenching my fists. "Burgers, salads—I even force myself to finish those high-calorie meal replacement shakes!"

"Well, your physical data doesn't lie." He pushed up his glasses, his tone laced with helplessness.

I didn't argue back, because I couldn't explain it myself. Those foods clearly went into my stomach, but they seemed to vanish into thin air without converting into anything.

The restroom door was pushed open, and Mia walked in. Her high heels made crisp clicking sounds against the tiles. She was my stepmother's daughter, a year younger than me. Growing up, she had always been that pale, timid, and pitiful girl who was allergic to almost all kinds of food.

But today, she wore a tight slip dress. Her skin was fair with a rosy flush, her hair shone with a healthy luster, and she looked so beautiful even without makeup that it was hard to look away.

"I'm fine." I replied coldly. I turned on the faucet and scrubbed my hands vigorously, as if I could wash away the nausea from earlier.

Mia walked up beside me, leaned closer to the mirror to adjust her hair, and a barely noticeable smirk curled the corners of her lips.

"Sister, you're really too thin lately. Your fans are all saying in the comment section that you look like a junkie." She paused. "You should eat more."

She handed me a tissue, but her gaze fell upon my lips, lingering there for two seconds.

"But that strawberry tart you just ate, the taste was really quite good." She said softly, as if murmuring to herself. "That feeling of sweet and sour exploding on the tip of the tongue... wasn't it amazing?"

My hand jerked to a freeze, and the tissue slipped from my fingers.

This shop just released this new item this morning. It was a hidden menu item, and as an invited blogger, I was the very first person to taste it. Mia stayed in our apartment all morning. She had never been here, nor had she ever eaten this strawberry tart.

How could she possibly know that feeling of "sweet and sour exploding on the tip of the tongue"?

I stared intently at her rosy lips, and an absurd yet bone-chilling thought surfaced in my mind.

"Yeah," I suppressed the shudder in my heart, curved my lips into a smile, and kept my voice so steady that even I was surprised. "The taste was indeed very good."

Mia smiled, turned around, and walked out of the restroom, her high heels echoing softly as they faded away. I gripped the edge of the sink, my knuckles turning white. Staring at my withered reflection in the mirror, I knew that something inexplicable and sinister was happening inside my body.