Hell Inn: Rebirth - I Became a Chef in Hell

Chapter 167 If my drawing of a puppy looks like bread, can you please not laugh at me? - S01E06

To be honest, whether you're cooking for foreigners or for foreign devils, it's not really that difficult.

...or rather, it can't be.

Excluding those countries with their own distinct cuisines and discerning palates, most of the foreign monsters in hell seem to lack a sense of taste.

However, you must state in advance that, for some reason, you don't actually have any feelings about most things.

……

But you're willing to admit that when it comes to food, you're absolutely the kind of arrogant and haughty type that's annoying.

Among the world's cuisines, French, Italian, and Turkish food might appeal to you, but you'd still look down on most Western dishes.

After all, rather than referring to a dish, you would rather call most Western meals "basic energy intake to maintain bodily functions".

When it comes to the quality of food, even the notoriously picky Alastor clearly cares more about the so-called "special" taste.

Although he is usually picky and you have said that he has good taste, this only applies to his pickiness about ingredients.

However, the radio drama also reflects, from another perspective, the pursuit of gourmet food by most foreigners—

At least it reflects the pursuit of delicious food in his region.

Foreigners seem to prefer the quality and natural taste of ingredients rather than the complex flavors and layers that come from processing food.

Although you admire Alastor's preference for bitterness, a taste that most people can't get used to—

But you still believe that regional differences are the biggest reason why he prefers "fresh meat" to "rotten meat" rather than choosing between "salty" and "sweet".

(But you don't know if it's just your imagination, but you feel like Alastor's mouth is getting harder and harder to please... Is he deliberately making things difficult for you, or...?)

Finally, let's get back to the main topic.

Theoretically speaking, if foreigners who have fallen from the human world to hell are like this when it comes to food, one can only imagine how the native creatures in hell are.

Even if you simply serve the little devils instant curry and cheap cake from the supermarket for this gathering in Devil's Castle, they would probably accept it without a second thought.

But as Alastor mocks, your pathetic moral standards won't allow you to do such a thing—

However, after talking to Alastor about this, you suddenly realize that you might be happy to be a bad person.

For example, those who, after being insulted by some ignorant jerk, stand on their moral high ground and spit at others in a condescending manner...

The good news is that, so far, most people can't beat you.

Even Alastor, who always mocks your high moral standards.

"Capri salad, balsamic vinegar roasted Brussels sprouts, baked corn with cheese, rosemary roasted chicken, red wine braised beef, tomato seafood hot pot, Yangzhou fried rice... Dessert is frosted cupcakes and brown sugar sweet potato puree."

"The drinks are mulled wine, espresso, and grape soda, right?"

Which one is the most popular?

In the Little Devil's apartment, the Dragon Girl, leaning back on the sofa, scribbled notes in her notebook as she asked this question in a gentle tone.

The two little devils perched on her lap had bright, sparkling eyes.

They clamored and jostled, trying to get the sinner from the East to choose their preferences.

The red Wendigo was sitting on another single sofa right next to the female demon.

He looked at the expired old newspaper in his hand, his brow furrowed.

The devil's exaggerated smile, stretching to his ears, made it impossible to guess what he was thinking.

The little devils are washing dishes in the kitchen.

Occasionally, the sound of two people joking and laughing could be heard coming from inside, accompanied by the clinking of bowls and plates.

—This is definitely not a scene that would appear in hell.

The apartment where the Yaki couple lived was small, but it had everything they needed.

The little devil family of four lives here, perfectly fitting into other people's definition of a warm and cozy home.

However, with the arrival of the two two-meter-tall criminals, the living room in the apartment immediately looked much narrower and cramped.

After all, these two giant demons looked like they couldn't even move their legs properly at this moment.

Alastor would occasionally cast a half-hearted glance at ■■■, who was engrossed in writing.

It's different from writing in English.

Compared to the English printed fonts that he jokingly called "cute," when the Eastern Sinner wrote the characters of his hometown, those square and upright characters were vigorous and elegant, with strokes that were so beautiful that one couldn't help but take a second look.

Alastor sat on the sofa beside her, watching her.

A subtle mockery fell into the male demon's eyes, rippling with an ambiguous meaning...

It was as if a radio frequency was vibrating in the whites of his eyes.

"Brown sugar sweet potato puree! Brown sugar sweet potato puree! Miss ■■■!"

"What?! Qina, you're such an idiot! Tomato seafood hot pot is definitely the best!"

"You're talking nonsense! If the tomato seafood hot pot is so delicious, then why did you try to steal my sweet potato mash?!"

"That's because I think you're too stupid; you can't even eat mashed sweet potato!"

"...You damned...!"

"Oh dear, little ones, fighting is not good."

Seeing that both children had grabbed each other's horns, you calmly pulled the two little devils who were about to fight apart from your knees and stopped their dispute from escalating.

After what seemed like the umpteenth time you'd brushed aside your perpetually long, unkempt hair, you finally said with a touch of exasperation:

"Broadcasting demon, do you mind...?"

"..."

Upon hearing this, Alastor, who had been sitting to the side with his legs crossed and chin propped up, seemed to have already guessed this.

He uttered a short syllable from his throat, then stood up gracefully and strolled slowly to your side.

Wendigo skillfully gathered your long hair with a few fingers, and then tied it up with a deep red hair tie that appeared out of thin air.

A flash of green demonic fire streaked past your face.

Alastor's sharp fingers tickled your neck, and you couldn't help but rub your shoulder against the side of your face.

"Um……"

"It was worth the extra time I spent making you a fresh meat platter."

Without looking up, the Eastern Sinner skillfully wrote down the instructions for several dishes while taking a moment to mutter a few sarcastic remarks about Alastor, who was surprisingly perceptive at the moment.

"Anyway, thanks." Although polite, her tone still sounded indifferent.

This inexplicably reminded Alastor of a freshly washed teacup placed on an iron rack.

The remaining water would always drip from the rim of the cup, carrying a kind of capriciousness that others could only choose to accept.

"...However, unfortunately, that's a different reward, my dear."

The sinner lord, with his eyelids drooping listlessly, nitpicked as he straightened your collar.

He seems to have gotten used to your tone of voice and understands why you always speak this way.

Your eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly.

But even now, you still don't understand exactly when Alastor began to understand...

"But according to your rules, the most popular dishes on the table should be beef stew in red wine and roasted chicken with rosemary... What do you think?"

Just as you were staring blankly at the notebook in your hand, the Sinner Lord suddenly reached out and pointed at the very abstract dish you had drawn, speaking in a very emotional tone.

The Wendigo's sharp claws left a dent on the white paper that quickly healed.

Upon hearing this, you turned your head with some surprise to look at Alastor, whose smile remained unchanged.

After pondering for a moment, the expressionless dragon girl used her pen to add an extra point in red to both "Red Wine Braised Beef" and "Rosemary Roasted Chicken".

But because you had something on your mind, you gently pressed your pen to your lips, and the fluffy ears on the side of your head twitched involuntarily.

"...Oh...what happened? Sweetheart? I think you seem a little confused?"

Having eaten and drunk his fill, Alastor keenly noticed your unusual behavior.

Before you could even look up, he leaned on his cane with ease, squinting and smiling as he gazed at the sinner from the East before him.

"Is it because I can't understand your abstract paintings?" he said jokingly.

Faced with his teasing remarks, you felt a pang of hurt and your pen paused unnaturally for a moment.

...After all, your painting is really ugly, otherwise no demon would have mistaken your dog for bread.

At this point, you, who rarely knew how to reply, twitched your lips, looked up, and met Alastor's gaze.