They Hunted the Wrong Monster
Led on by his sly encouragement, I ordered a feast of biblical proportions for a table of ten: king crab, massive lobsters, the finest French caviar—the works.
It wasn’t until he flashed a malicious grin that the trap was sprung.
Babe, if you can't finish all that, you're picking up the check.
He thought I didn’t see it—the hidden camera on his chest, the live feed where a torrent of comments was already flooding the screen, all of them mocking me.
“Look at her face, she’s screwed. That spread is $95,000. How’s some broke girl gonna pay for that?”
“Did you see how greedy she was ordering? LMAO.”
“Does she really think you can just leech off a rich guy that easily?”
“Another point for the Gold Digger Takedown Team! Yo, share the stream, guys, this is gonna be epic!”
But there, under the invisible glare of a thousand eyes, I didn’t panic as they’d all hoped. I just lifted my knife and fork, flashed a playful grin that showed the tips of my canines, and smiled.
A takedown?
As a creature of myth, known since antiquity for my insatiable appetite, there’s a human expression I’ve always been fond of.
The most dangerous predators are the ones who look like prey.
1
A short clip went viral across all the platforms recently.
It starred a man and a woman. You only ever heard the guy’s voice, but the woman was on camera the entire time.
The setting was a high-end luxury boutique. The woman, giddy with excitement, tried on an array of designer bags and dresses, constantly turning to the man for his opinion.
"Babe, that dress was made for you."
"That bag is sick. It's the limited-edition season drop. Wild that this store has all the colors. You should just get them all."
"You need a pair of red-bottom stilettos with that skirt. Those ones are perfect."
Lost in the flurry of praise, the woman held her head high, preening in one exquisite outfit after another. She even threw her old clothes into a trash can right there in the middle of the store.
It was only when she approached the register, arms laden with her spoils, that the fantasy shattered.
"I said I'd go shopping with you, not for you."
"No way, no way… After all that posturing, you’re just some broke chick? If you don’t have the money, what are you even doing in a place like this?"
The man’s voice was loud, mocking. A crowd was starting to form. The woman panicked.
"But you told me to buy all this…"
"So? If I tell you to buy it, you just buy it? Do you have any idea what’s in your bank account? If I told you to go jump off a bridge, would you do that, too?"
Snickers rippled through the onlookers. Someone pulled out their phone and started recording.
The woman, biting her lip, forced a syrupy smile. "You said you liked me. If you just pay for this, I'll be your girlfriend."
The man let out an exaggerated, booming laugh.
"My girlfriend? Who the hell do you think you are? Take a good look in the mirror. A gold digger who can't even afford a few dresses wants to be my girlfriend? Get real."
"If you can't afford it, go sell something. Aren't you girls good at that? Or take out a loan. Why are you looking for a sugar daddy? You think we owe you something?"
He went on like that, a relentless, ten-minute tirade. Finally, face flushed a deep, humiliating crimson, the woman returned every single item. She walked back to the trash can, retrieved her old clothes, and put them back on, piece by piece, before fleeing the store under a chorus of derision.
2
I closed the video. A series of voice messages were still popping up in my chat.
"Made up your mind, babe? Send me your address, I'll come pick you up. We can hit the shops, maybe buy a few bags, some jewelry. What do you say?"
The voice was a low, gravelly attempt at seduction—identical to the man in the video.
I thought for a moment, then cleared my throat and sent back a voice note of my own, my tone dripping with sweetness.
"I'm not really into bags and jewelry. I'd be happy if you just bought me dinner, big boy."
Silence from his end. A moment later, a notification popped up from a private group chat.
"Dudes, what the hell? Did I actually find one of the 'good ones'? The new target just wants me to take her to dinner."
The group exploded.
"Dumbass. You still believe good girls exist? She's obviously playing the long game."
"Rule of thumb, bro: there are no women who don't want something. Only ones who pretend to be saints and ones who know they don't have the leverage."
The advice started pouring in.
"If she wants dinner, give her dinner. Top-shelf wagyu, king crab, imported caviar. The more expensive, the better."
"Broke girls have never seen real luxury. She'll be drooling. Let her order herself, you just make suggestions. Don't let her stop until she's ordered enough for seven or eight people. Enough to make someone her size literally burst."
"Once the food's on the table, tell her you hate women who waste food. If she can't finish it, you're not paying. And unlike clothes, you can't return a dish once it's been cooked. She'll either have to cough up the cash or eat till she pukes."
"Damn, that's cold. I love it."
"Yes! This is gonna be prime content. The stream is gonna blow up again, hahaha."
The chat was buzzing. No one noticed my burner account, lurking silently among them.
Finally, a new message from him came through.
"You got it. There's a five-star Michelin restaurant downtown. I'll take you for a taste."
I wiped a trickle of drool from the corner of my mouth.
"Okay."
3
Staring at the mountain of exquisite dishes piled high on the table, Connor finally grinned.
"Babe," he said, barely able to contain his glee as he delivered the line he'd been rehearsing, "I can't stand people who waste food. You ordered so much… if you can't finish it, I don't think I can help you with the bill."
I feigned shock. "What? All of this? You expect me to eat all of this by myself?"
His smile was pure poison, the hidden camera on his chest zooming in for a tight shot of my panicked expression. "What's wrong? Feeling the pressure now? You seemed pretty happy when you were ordering."
In the livestream, the comments were a waterfall of ridicule.
“Here we go! My favorite part!”
“Connor is a legend! He tricked her into ordering for ten people. $95k! Hahaha, she is so done.”
“She had the balls to order it, though. I'm a big guy and I can't finish one king crab by myself. She ordered ten.”
“And she was pretending she didn’t want anything before. I thought she was just greedy, I didn’t know she was this stupid too!”
“Tonight’s entertainment is top-tier. I can't wait to see her eat until she throws up and then start crying for help!”
Connor savored the comments for a moment before turning his attention back to me.
"What are you staring at me for? Eat."
But I didn’t burst into tears and beg for forgiveness as they’d all fantasized. Instead, a contented smile spread across my face as I picked up my knife and fork.
"Thank you, Connor. In that case, I won't be polite."
Under a sea of disbelieving eyes, I devoured every last bite of the ten-person meal.
I didn't even leave a single grain of rice from the abalone risotto.
Honestly, if I wasn't afraid of making too much of a scene, I probably would have eaten the king crab shells, too.
It felt like something I used to do, a long, long time ago.
I must have been starving, I thought.
4
Connor paid the ninety-five-thousand-dollar bill, his face pale.
"So… can I ask you out again sometime? My treat," I said with a shy smile, as if I wasn't the person who had just inhaled a meal for ten.
He stared at my still-flat stomach beneath my dress, then just let out a dazed, "Huh?"
The livestream comments had shifted.
“Calculated every move but didn't account for her being a competitive eater.”
“No wonder she was so happy when he offered dinner. With an appetite like that, she must be starving at home.”
“I’m trying to believe she went and threw it all up, but she never even went to the bathroom.”
“Weird. This is just plain weird. Can't even be mad at Connor for losing this one.”
“Wait, you guys are just giving up? The Takedown Team has never taken an L like this before!”
Connor was distracted, lost in thought, until a hand landed heavily on his shoulder.
"Hey Connor, out with your new girlfriend?"
I turned. A handsome young man with a gentle smile was looking at me.
Connor quickly backpedaled. "Nah, just a friend from a game. First time meeting up."
Then he introduced us. "Talia, this is my friend, Simon Hayes."
Simon waved a waiter over and ordered three coffees.
"Since we ran into each other, why don't you stay a little longer?"
He glanced tentatively at my stomach. "Ms. Talia, do you have room for a coffee?"
He leaned close, and a subtle, intoxicating fragrance drifted from him. I found myself unconsciously twitching my nose.
"Simon, you smell amazing," I said.
He chuckled.
"You like my cologne? I'll send you a bottle."
Connor, standing by, sounded a little sulky. "What, I don't smell good?"
I looked down, feigning embarrassment. "You smell good too, Connor. But Simon smells… better."
They both laughed, and the scent seemed to envelop me like a fine mist. I had to swallow hard to keep from drooling as the momentary feeling of fullness in my stomach was replaced by a gnawing hunger.
"This might sound a bit forward," Simon began, his voice smooth as silk, "but I was sitting behind you earlier. I saw you… eating."
He paused. "I just launched a new media company, and we have a food channel that's looking for a host. We need a competitive eater just like you, Talia."
I looked at him, wide-eyed. "Me?"
"Of course. You're cute, Talia, and your appetite is incredible. It creates this amazing contrast. With a little promotion, you'd be a star."
Simon and I exchanged numbers.
It was late by the time I got home. The moment I opened the door, my phone buzzed.
A friend request from a stranger. The attached message read: I know what you're trying to do.
5
I thought about it, then hit accept.
It was a brand-new account. Default profile picture, all information blank.
I sent a message: "Hello."
The reply was almost instantaneous. "Leave the group. Cut all contact with those people. You have no idea who you're messing with."
I played dumb. "What group? I don't know what you're talking about."
Anonymous: "You know what I'm talking about. 'The Hunt Club.' You've been lurking in there for days, right? You deliberately connected with Connor in the game, arranged to meet him, let him livestream it… You knew exactly what they were planning. Why would you do that? Are you trying to get revenge for the other girls they've humiliated?"
I didn't answer.
Anonymous: "Whatever you're planning, I'm telling you to stop. These guys are all rich and powerful. This group is just a sick game for them when they're bored. If they find out you're just messing with them, you're finished. Do you know what happened to the last person who crossed them?"
6
Of course I knew what happened to the last person who crossed them.
Her name was Tessa, a senior at City University. Three months ago, on the night before her graduation ceremony, she jumped from the roof of the library.
We were both orphans, raised in the same foster home. I called her my sister. I was born with a massive appetite, which meant I was always hungry as a kid at the home. Tessa would secretly give me her food, swallowing her own saliva as she watched me eat.
"What can I do? I'm the one who found you. That makes me responsible," she'd say. She was a brilliant student, and the director of the home, taking pity on her diligence, would slip her extra eggs and milk. All of it ended up in my stomach. As I devoured the food, fighting the burning hunger and guilt in my gut, Tessa would puff out her chest and promise, "It's okay. One day, I'll go to college, get a good job, and make tons of money. Then you can eat whatever you want, and you'll never have to be hungry again!"
But she broke her promise.
And I was angry.
The next time I was starving, who would be there to take care of me?
Her roommate gave me a battered journal, a small mercy. She said the school had disposed of all of Tessa's other belongings, but she'd secretly kept this, a final memento of their friendship.
The name that appeared most often in its pages was a group chat called "The Hunt Club."
7
After lurking in the group for a few days on my burner account, I finally understood what it was for.
A pack of bored, wealthy degenerates who used various pretenses to lure out women they deemed vain and greedy "gold diggers." They would trick them into making huge purchases, then refuse to pay, deriving pleasure from their public humiliation and breakdown.
But Tessa… I refused to believe she would fall into their trap for material things.
Once, when we were kids, I was so hungry I stole two buns from a bakery. She found out and whipped the palm of my hand raw with a thin bamboo stick.
She told me that even the poorest person must hold on to their integrity.
She went on and on, lecturing me with all sorts of principles about how a noble person remains virtuous in poverty, blah, blah, blah. The rest is a blur; my hand hurt too much to remember.
Tsk. Having a straight-A sister wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Make one little mistake and you get hit with both physical and psychological damage.
8
March 10th. Sunday. Sunny.
I never knew people could be so cruel. What did I do wrong to be tormented like this?
March 15th. Friday. Light rain.
They came to the coffee shop where I work part-time. They made a scene, claiming my cup wasn't clean, that my hands were dirty when I served them, that they got a stomachache after drinking the coffee and had to go to the hospital. They demanded I pay them.
I only make eight hundred dollars a month at this job. They wanted twenty thousand. Where was I supposed to get that kind of money?
My boss was kind. Before he fired me, he quietly lent me the twenty thousand. He said not to rush paying it back, but I still feel so guilty. I'll just have to find more part-time work. If I can just hold on for a few more weeks, until I get my diploma, everything will be okay.
March 19th. Tuesday. Overcast.
They still haven't let me go.
I lost my tutoring job. They filed a complaint, accusing me of molesting the child, of trying to seduce the husband. The mother, who had always been so nice to me, showed up at the university screaming that I was a homewrecker. She grabbed my hair and hit me.
No one helped me. Everyone just stared and pointed. When I got back to my dorm, my roommates had thrown my sheets and blanket into the hallway. They said it was a disgrace to share a room with me.
It hurts so much. Why? I didn't do anything.
April 6th. Saturday. Heavy rain.
It's been months since I sent any money back to the home. I wonder how Talia is doing with her studies. Is she eating enough?
It turns out there was a reason for everything. If I had known then… No. Even if I could do it all over again, I would still help her.
We’re both girls. How could I just stand by and watch them humiliate her, force her to strip naked in the middle of a store? Who knew that just paying for a dress would attract a pack of monsters?
They're the ones who are wrong. Not me.
But I don't know how much longer I can hold on… I haven't called Talia in a while. I'm not in a good state. She would worry.
Endure it, Tessa. To live is to endure. You can't give up like this.
Three months later, she jumped from the university rooftop.
It was graduation season, and the university didn't want a scandal. They quietly handled Tessa's body and her belongings, and then everything went silent.
After all, she was just an orphan with no parents.
The loss of a single life barely made a splash, less than the ripple from a pebble tossed into a lake.
9
I became a mukbang streamer for Simon Hayes's new media company.
After one session where I ate eight bundles of Fujian-style noodles, twenty mooncakes, ten bowls of sweet rice ball soup, six bowls of Nanchang spicy noodles, fifty soup dumplings, and for dessert, an eight-inch chocolate cake and five giant fruit teas, I went viral.
Of course, the reactions were all over the place. There was shock, skepticism, people trying to replicate the meal, others analyzing the footage frame-by-frame for tricks, and a legion of commenters swearing I must have a bulimia problem. It was a circus.
I ignored all of it. As long as I got to eat my fill, I didn't care.
Simon said he wanted to reward me. He took me and the team on a safari hunt in Africa.
The savanna was beautiful.
Simon raised his rifle and, with a single shot, brought down a magnificent male lion. Blood pooled on the dry earth.
"These animals are raised in a private reserve specifically for hunting. Half a million a head," he explained. "For people in our circle, this is the real game of power."
"Want to try, Talia?"
He stood behind me, his body half-embracing mine, as he showed me how to hold the rifle, how to aim.
One of his assistants threw a bloody deer leg from the truck, quickly attracting a few leopards.
"This is the essence of the hunt," he murmured, his breath hot against my neck. "A little bait is all it takes to bring out the greed in their bones. Even when they know untold danger lies ahead, they can't help but follow their hunger—"
"And then—bang."
He whispered the last word, and I flinched. The bullet whizzed over the leopards' heads. Startled, they snatched the deer leg and vanished into the tall grass.
Simon wasn't angry. He just stroked my hair indulgently.
"It's okay. I know you girls have soft hearts."
I buried my face in his chest, forcing the sharp claws that were about to erupt from my fingertips back under my skin.
Lately, my body had been changing in strange ways, as if something unknown was on the verge of waking up.
The only constant was the raging hunger in my stomach.
10
After we returned to the States, the anonymous account messaged me again.
"I know who you are."
"You're Tessa's sister. You got close to Connor and his friends to get revenge for her, didn't you?"
"You can't win against them."
Tired of the warnings, I just blocked the account.
A new request from a different burner account came through moments later.
"I'm not trying to hurt you, I swear! I just want to help!"
"If you really don't believe me, let's meet in person."
I considered it. "Only if you're buying me dinner."
She chose a KFC.
I didn't hold back, ordering five family-sized buckets.
The girl across from me, bundled up in a hat and a face mask, stared with wide eyes.
I happily munched on a piece of fried chicken, taking a sip of soda and glancing at her.
"Oh, you're Tessa's roommate."
The one who gave me the journal.
She looked stunned. "You can recognize me even dressed like this?"
I twitched my nose slightly. "I remember your scent."
She hesitated for a long time before finally speaking. "Don't you have any questions for me? Like… the real reason Tessa died?"
"Oh, I read the diary. It seems like she helped someone, got targeted by that group, and killed herself when she couldn't take it anymore."
She stared at me. "And that's it?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely confused.
Her voice rose with emotion. "You know how she died, and you can talk about it so calmly? Do you have any idea the kind of pain she went through before she died?"
I looked up at her. "So? What did you do while she was going through all that? Weren't you the one she helped? Why is it that you, the one who started it all, got away clean while she was pushed to the edge?"
"How did you know…"
"I guessed."
The girl slumped in her seat. "You're right… I was vain. I fell for Connor's trap. He took me to that luxury store, tricked me into trying on an expensive dress, and then refused to pay. He was going to force me to strip naked in front of everyone, livestreaming it for laughs… Tessa just happened to be passing by. She paid for the dress for me."
"That's what set them off."
"They shifted their target to Tessa. First, they tried the same trick on her, but when she wouldn't take the bait, they started to destroy her life. They used their money and influence to spread lies, ruin her reputation… Eventually, even the university believed them. The day before graduation, they told her she was being expelled for 'moral turpitude.' She wasn't even going to get her diploma. That's why she… she couldn't see a way out."
I listened while finishing my buckets of chicken, then licked my fingers clean. "I'm done. Thanks for the meal."
She gaped at me, speechless. "You…"
"I get it. You're saying they're powerful. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."
Just then, my phone rang.
I answered, my voice instantly turning soft and sweet.
"Simon?"
His voice on the other end was bright and cheerful. "Where are you, Talia? I'm coming to pick you up. We have a big livestream tonight, you can't be late."
I gave him the address and hung up. The smile was still on my face when I noticed the girl across from me staring with venom in her eyes.
"I see now…" she sneered. "You never wanted revenge at all. Your sister's death was just a ladder for you to climb."
"After all, without this, a girl from the bottom like you would never even get the chance to speak to powerful men like them, right?"
"You've already been seduced by them, haven't you? You've seen their power, their status, and you think you can climb into their world and live happily ever after? Keep dreaming."
"Do you think you're special, that they see you differently? You're just another piece of bait. If you keep this up, your end will be a hundred times worse than mine and Tessa's combined."
I wasn't angry. I wiped my fingers meticulously and stood up.
"That won't happen. Simon isn't like Connor and the others. And I'm not like you."
"What makes you so different?"
I tilted my head, revealing the tips of my canines. "You were all after his money. I'm different. I just want him."
"Talia!" she screamed after me, her voice thick with grief and fury. "Your sister died so horribly, and you're willing to be a lapdog for her killers? She loved you more than anything in this world, you ungrateful, shameless snake!"
"Don't say that," I said, looking back with a smile. "You know, we were both just orphans. Tessa… she wasn't my real sister, anyway."
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