The blood of a twenty-year-old girl can allegedly be used to make vermicelli soup, claiming to prolong life and enhance masculine vitality. After my mother's death, my father brought me back to the old mansion. There lived my father's first wife and my half-sister, along with the factory where my father produces duck blood vermicelli soup. He owns the biggest duck blood factory in the area. However, my half-sister said that once I turn twenty, I would be made into human blood vermicelli soup, thereby contributing to our father's illustrious life. I refuse to be consumed, I am desperate to know why anyone would do such horrifying acts, so I chose to expose them, to give them a taste of their own medicine. Everyone loves duck blood vermicelli soup, but is it all really made from duck's blood?

Soltó un pesado suspiro que había retenido desde que leyó la última línea. Se pasó las manos por el rostro en un intento de despejarse. "Tengo un manuscrito real en mis manos" Se dijo a sí mismo. "Una libreta de un soldado kazajo que peleaba por la URSS" "¿Cómo es que nadie se ha dado cuenta?"