Netori King: I Will NTR Everyone!

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-ret in the Pantry

Emma never thought her gracould hold any secrets. It creaked when the wind blew, smelled like cinnamon and dust, and had a pantry full odred years ago. Every summer, Emma visited for two weeks. She spent most of her time reading, picking wildflowers, or helping Grandma bake cookies.

But this summer was different.

It started when Emma reached into the pantry looking for peanut butter. She pushed aside a jar of pickles and noticed something strange. The back wall of the pantry had a small crack—and when she pressed her fingers against it, she felt a tiny breeze.

mma ran to get a flashlight. She returned to the pantry and pressed harder on the wall. To her surprise, it swung open like a hidden door.

Behind it was a dark tunnel.

Emma paused. "Should I go in?" she whispered. Her heart beat faster, but her curiosity was stronger than her fear.

She stepped inside.

The air was cool and smelled like fresh rain. alking for a few minutes, she heard the sound of running water.

Finally, she reached the end of the tunnel and gasped.

In front of her was a huge underground chamber with a marble fountain in the center. Water bubbled up and flowed gently over crystal-clear stones. Strange plants glowed with a soft blue light, and tiny floating lights buzzed like fireflies.

Emma walked closer to the fountain. There was a plaque on it that read:

"The Fountain of Memory – Drink, and recall what was lost."

She blinked. Was this some kind of magic fountain?

Suddenly, she heard a voice behind her.

"Not everyone finds this place, you know."

Emma turned and saw her grandma standing there, smiling gently.

"Grandma? You knew about this?"

Her grandma nodded. "I found it when I was your age. The pantry hides many things."

Emma looked at the fountain again. "What does it mean… 'recall what was lost'?"

Grandma walked up and placed a hand on Emma's shoulder. "It brings back memories that are buried deep. Some people forget special things—this helps them remember."

Emma's eyes widened. "Can I try?"

Her grandma nodded.

Emma cupped her hands and took a sip from the fountain. The water was cool and sweet. As soon as it touched her tongue, her vision blurred.

She was no longer in the chamber.

She saw herself as a little girl, sitting in her dad's lap, laughing as he read her a bedtime story. She hadn't thought about that night in years. Her dad had passed away when she was seven, and the memories had faded. But now, it all came rushing back—his voice, his smile, the warmth of his hug.

When Emma opened her eyes, she was crying softly.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Her grandma pulled her into a hug. "Some memories never leave you. They just wait to be found again."

They walked back through the tunnel together. Emma didn't feel scared this time. The pantry door closed behind them as if it had never been open.

That night, Emma sat in bed with a notebook and wrote down everything she could remember from the fountain's vision. She didn't want to forget again.

And from that day on, the pantry wasn't just a place for storing food. It was a doorway to something much more magical—and Emma knew she'd never look at it the same way again.

---

It was just a regular Tuesday when something strange happened uring class, especially when he was bored. His favorite pencil was a yellow Number 2 with bite marks on the end. He had named it "Sketchy." It had been with him since third grade, and he never let anyone borrow it.

One rainy afternoon, while Oliver sat in English class, he started to doodle in the mabout similes and metaphors, but Oliver's mind was elsewhere. Without thinking, he started sketching a monster. It had long arms, sharp claws, three eyes, and a mouth full of jagged teeth. He gave it horns and a spiky tail. As he shaded in the shadows around its eyes, he whispered to himself, "You'll be the scariest monster ever."

Just then, a flash of lightning lit up the classroom, followed by a loud BOOM of thunder. The lights asped. The teacher told them to stay calm and continue working. But something strange was happening on Oliver's paper.

The monster he had drawn was… moving.

At first, it was just a twitch. Then, slowly, the monster's eyes blinked. Its claws reached out beyond the edge of the paper. Oliver dropped his pencil. "Wha—what's happening?"

Sf the paper like it was climbing out of a pool. It was taller than the chalkboard and growled like a lion. The other students screamed and ran toward the door, but the monster blocked the exit.

"Who dares draw me?" the monster roared. "Who gave me life?"

Oliver was frozen. His hand trembled as he picked up Sketchy. "I… I did," he said quietly.

The monster's three eyes locked onto him. "Then you are the Artist. You created me. Now I will bring your nightmares to life!"

Oliver didn't know what to do. He stared at his pencil and remembered something his art teacher once said: "A pencil can create… but it can also erase."

He quickly flipped Sketchy over and looked at thewould work.

Taking a deep breath, Oliver ran toward the monster. It swung its claws, but he ducked just in time. He monster's spiky tail. To his amazement, the tail disappeared! The monster howled in pain.

"No! What are you doing?"

"I created you," Oliver said, his voice shaking but stronger now. "And I can un-create you!"

He erased one horn, then the claws, then the sharp teeth. The more he eronster became, until finally, all that was left was a smudge on his notebook.

The room was silent. Everyone stared at Oliver. Even the teacher looked shocked.

"Oliver," she said slowly, "what just happened?"

He looked down at Sketchy, now a little shorter and slightly worn. "I think my pen

No one believed him, of course. They said it was just the storm playing tricks on their eyes. But Oliver knew the truth.

After that day, he kept Sketchy safe in a special box at home. He still drew monsters sometimes to draw an eraser nearby… just in case.

---

Skls and then the same to you and all of you and I have a good day to be a your family a lot of the same time for me to come to you and family card I will be in to 10th and 10th class ndi and science and science I will be able to utter those who are you in the

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Most people think spiders hate the cold. That's what Alex always believed—until the day he found one frozen in the ice.

It was a bitter January afternoon. Alex was walking home from school, his breath fh the woods near his house, something he usually avoided in winter. But today, he was tired and wanted to get home fast.

Halfway through the woods, he slipped on a patch of ice and landed hard. "Ow!" he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his elbow. As he stood, he noticed something strange frozen beneath the clear surface of the ice.

It was a spider.

Not just any spider—a big one. It had long, hairy legs andenter of the icy patch like a bug inside amber.

Alex stared at it. It didn't look like any spider he'd seen before. Its body shimmered slightly, almost glowing. He leaned closer. Was it… blinking?

Suddenly, the ice a Alex jumped back.

The spider's legs twitched. The ice split open wam rose from its body as it crawled onto the snowy ground.

"What in the world…" Alex whispered.

The spider turned to look at him. Itex could run, the spider spoke.

"Thank you for freeing me."

Alex nearly fainted. "Y-you can talk?"

"Yes," the spider said calmly. "I was trapped in the ice for many years. A powerful frost spell sealed me there."

Alex didn't know what to say. He took a shaky step back.

"Don't be afraid," the spider said. "I am not here to hurt you."

Alex's voice finally returned. "What… what are you?"

The spider's eyes sardian of Winter. I kept balance between snow and sun. But one day, the Ice Sorcerer grew jealous. He cast a spell and trapped me beneath the forest."

Alex blinked. "So you've been there for… how long?"

"About two hundred years," the spider replied.

Alex gasped. "That's insane."

"Because of your kindness,aid. "And I owe you a gift."

"A gift?"

The spider raised one leg and touched the ground. A swirl of snow rose around Alex. When it cleared, a glowing crystal sat in his hand.

"This is the Heart of Frost," trotect you in cold, and let you speak to winter itself."

Alex held the crystal. It was cold but not painful. It pulsed gently, like it was alive.

"Thank you," he said. "But… what will rn to the winter winds and restore balance," the spider said. "But if ever you need me, hold the crystal under falling snow, a

Then the spider turned and vanished into the trees, leaving behind only faint prints in the snow.

ot home, he placed the crystal in a small box and kept it by his window. No one believed his story, of course—not his parents, not his few what he saw.

And every winter, when the first snow fell, hld hold the crystal in his hand and listen.

Sometimes, if he listened closely, he swore he could hear the whisper of a spider walking across the ice.

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