Evil MC's NTR Harem

Chapter 723: Chapter 723 Survey

It was maddening and was making Heaven crazy.

She had brushed it off at first, thinking it was just a temporary illness or maybe stress.

But one full day had passed, and her taste buds still betrayed her. It wasn’t normal.

She wasn’t sick. She was fine—at least physically.

Which left only one possibility.

Her eyes narrowed as her mind returned to one person.

That smug bastard with the arrogant smirk and outrageous confidence. Big D.

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping back sharply against the floor, drawing a few glances her way. But she didn’t care.

She marched straight toward him, finding him seated casually near the lounge, sipping something as if the world was at peace.

He looked up just as she reached him, seemingly unsurprised.

”What did you do to me?” Heaven demanded, her voice low but sharp, cutting through the room like a knife.

Ross raised an eyebrow, his smile slow and infuriating.

”Hello, Heaven,” he said coolly, ignoring her question. ”Didn’t like your food?”

”Fix it,” Heaven snapped, her voice low but trembling with fury.

”Or I swear, I’ll summon the house boss and tell him everything. We’re all surrounded by cameras in this house. You think you can get away with this? You’ll end up in jail—or worse.”

Ross didn’t flinch. If anything, her threat seemed to amuse him.

He leaned back leisurely in his seat, his fingers idly spinning the rim of his glass as he met her glare without so much as a blink. His voice, when it came, was maddeningly calm.

”I doubt it,” he said with a shrug. ”But by all means, let the house boss know. I’m not stopping you.”

Heaven stared at him, her breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a scream.

That arrogance—how could someone look so relaxed while being accused of poisoning someone?

She spun on her heel and stormed out of the lounge area, fists clenched.

The silence left in her wake was thick, broken only by the whispering of the others.

”Did he really do something to her?”

”Man, that Ross guy is weird...”

”She looked serious. She hasn’t eaten properly in days.”

Within the hour, the house boss had been summoned, and with him came the house doctor, a stern-faced woman in her fifties who had seen her share of contestant meltdowns and psychosomatic episodes.

Heaven sat tensely on the couch while the doctor ran through her routine.

She checked her vitals, ran a quick neuro exam, even did a few taste tests using a kit that had sugar, salt, vinegar, and various food items.

Ross sat a few meters away, sipping his drink without a care in the world, watching it all unfold like a mildly entertaining sitcom.

After a thorough evaluation, the doctor stood and addressed the group.

”There’s nothing physically wrong with you, Heaven,” she said, professional but gentle. ”You’re in excellent health. No signs of foodborne illness, no toxins, no neurological abnormalities. Your taste buds are working perfectly. That leaves only one possibility—this is likely a psychological issue, stress-related. Not uncommon in high-pressure environments like this.”

”Are you saying I’m imagining this?” Heaven asked, her voice tight, restrained.

”I’m saying that sometimes, the mind can influence how the body perceives things,” the doctor replied. ”If you’d like, we can remove you from the house for rest or psychological support.”

”No,” Heaven said sharply. ”That won’t be necessary.”

Because she knew she wasn’t crazy.

The second she stood up from the examination, she could feel their eyes on her—some with pity, some with curiosity, some with suspicion.

But one pair of eyes—his—held something else entirely. Triumph.

Ross didn’t gloat out loud. He didn’t have to. The way he looked at her said it all.

Heaven turned and walked past him, but not before pausing right beside his chair. She didn’t even look at him when she whispered:

”I don’t know what you did... but I will find out.”

Ross smiled, slow and confident, without looking up.

”I hope you do,” he murmured.

She walked away, her jaw clenched, her body shaking with a storm of anger, confusion, and something she hated to admit—fear.

This wasn’t just a prank or a fluke. It wasn’t some harmless trick to throw her off her game.

Ross had done something to her.

Something she couldn’t explain.

Something no one could trace.

And worst of all... something she couldn’t undo.

Not yet.

But she would figure it out sooner or later.

***

Thursday came, bringing with it a slow descent into madness.

Every time Ross stepped into the kitchen, Heaven could feel her willpower crumble just a little more.

The moment the first notes of sizzling oil or roasted spices hit the air, her senses betrayed her. Her mouth would fill with saliva.

Her nose would twitch as if trying to catch more of the scent.

Her stomach would tighten painfully, begging for something—anything—that could satisfy the void left by him.

And it wasn’t hunger. Not really.

She ate. She ate what others cooked.

She even tried delivery once, hoping the variety might shock her taste buds back to life.

But nothing worked.

No matter how expensive or beautifully presented the food was, it all tasted like sawdust to her.

The only thing that made her body react, that made her feel, was Ross’s cooking.

She hated it.

She hated him.

Hated the way he smirked when she entered the room, as if he knew exactly what she was going through.

Hated how he didn’t even try to flaunt it—he just cooked like it was no big deal, served himself a plate, and walked away.

Never offering her anything. Never even asking if she wanted a bite.

By mid-afternoon, she couldn’t focus on anything else.

People were talking to her, but she barely registered their words.

She smiled when expected, nodded on cue, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.

It was in the kitchen, picturing Ross standing over the stove, seasoning, tasting, plating.

She tried to fight it. Again.

She chewed gum, drank cold water, even washed her face with ice-cold towels.

Nothing worked.

By dinner, she couldn’t take it anymore.