I could not help but shiver as an uneasy chill crept up my spine. By the time I snapped out of it, I realized I was already near the basement's cellar. The air grew colder with every step, and my bare feet against the freezing floor made me wince.

As I approached the door, Tiffany's moans became much clearer. In the emptiness of the hallway, her sounds echoed, creating a strange heat in the pit of my stomach despite the biting cold. Suddenly, the noises stopped, as if she sensed my presence.

I froze in place, my heart pounding. Then, her voice sounded strained yet firm as she shouted, "Don't come in… Ah! Just a little while more!"

After that, her moaning continued. The flickering lights above cast unsettling shadows on the walls, and my uneasiness grew.

My voice cracked as I said, "Tiffany, come out! If Mom finds out, you'll be in serious trouble!"

"Just wait! Three minutes, I promise—I'll be right out!" she shouted, her tone strained yet filled with urgency.

Sweat started to bead on my forehead as I hesitated outside the door, unsure what to do. I wondered what could possibly be happening inside. Apart from the éclairs that Mom kept so tightly guarded in the cellar, I could not think of anything else she could store there.

While I could not make sense of it, one thing was clear—Tiffany was doing this for money. Our grandparents used to adore her, always slipping her extra gifts and money during the holidays.

With her sweet talk and beauty, she had everyone wrapped around her finger, including her boyfriend, Sean. However, ever since she started drifting away from the family, she convinced herself that Mom had some grudge against her.

The lure of money must have driven her to this. She wanted to steal the éclairs, figure out Mom's secret recipe, and sell it for her own gain.

I took a deep breath, slowly turned the doorknob, and stepped into the dimly lit cellar. The air was icy, and it felt like I had entered another world. My eyes strained in the darkness until I finally spotted Tiffany in the corner, her arms wrapped around something, her body moving in an odd rhythm.

"Is she holding… an éclair?" I muttered to myself.

Her soft moans turned into labored breaths, each one ending in a faint, trembling note. I stared, wide-eyed, noticing as her neck flushed a deep, almost unnatural red. It looked as if her skin was burning despite the cold surrounding us.

Just as I was about to step forward, a hand clamped down on my shoulder. I froze in place, too scared to even turn around.

"Didn't I tell you to stay away from this place?" Mom's voice came from behind me, low and threatening.

I turned to see her glaring at me, her expression as cold as the room itself. I had not even heard her come in. Memories of her punishments from before flashed through my mind, and my legs trembled uncontrollably.

Instead of scolding me or barging into the cellar, Mom gave me a strange look and asked, "Do you want to learn how to make éclairs someday?"

She added, "You're more disciplined than Tiffany. One day, this shop will be yours."

Her unexpected words left me stunned. In my confusion, I mumbled a shaky response, "Uh, sure… okay."

Mom stared into my eyes for a moment longer before finally motioning for me to follow her. We stepped into the cellar together, and I could not help but glance around nervously.

Tiffany was in the farthest corner of the room, and her strange noises had not stopped. As I followed Mom, I carefully took in my surroundings. Aside from the usual industrial freezers, the floor had sticky patches of some kind of liquid that clung uncomfortably to my bare feet and gave off a peculiar, metallic smell.

The cold seemed to intensify with every step. As we got closer to Tiffany, her figure became clearer. One step, then another, and finally, we were standing right in front of her.

I gasped as I noticed Tiffany clutching a giant éclair in her arms, and part of it had been bitten. She pressed her mouth into the small opening she had made, twisting and turning her head as if the éclair were alive.

The way she clung to it and moved—it looked disturbingly intimate, like she was locked in a passionate kiss with a lover.

The room was freezing, but Tiffany's entire body was flushed red, and her neck veined with tension. She looked almost feverish, lost in some bizarre trance of desire.

Mom barely spared her a glance, brushing past her with a calm indifference that left me even more unsettled. Mom explained casually, "These éclairs are freshly made, and they aren't ready to be sold yet. They need to stay here for a while."

She did not wait for me to respond and kept moving deeper into the cellar. I thought Mom was walking further into the darkness because she could not see properly, but I was wrong. She stopped in front of a section of the wall, seemingly at random.

Then, she placed her hand on a small, barely noticeable indentation and pressed down lightly. The wall trembled violently, and I instinctively stepped back.

Before my eyes, the wall split open down the middle, revealing a hidden space. I followed Mom's gaze into the newly opened room, my heart racing. What I saw inside would stay with me forever.