Hell Inn: Rebirth - I Became a Chef in Hell

Chapter 12 Alastor is probably quite spicy.

"Oh, surprising?"

Seeing that you, who usually have the least expression in the inn, actually showed a rare look of pain, Alastor, who was still smiling, stared wide-eyed as if he had discovered a new continent.

So, as a young person, do you not wear any traditional clothing at all?

The scarlet Wendigo, now dressed in a more formal suit, tapped your heel lightly with his cane.

"It's truly a loss for others."

The radio voice, mostly from the last century, carried a hint of exaggerated regret, the truth of which was uncertain.

"Don't label me. I've always worn traditional clothing. Don't forget I'm not a local traitor."

Even though you haven't figured out what the other person lost, you still can't help but argue with him.

However, your voice noticeably softened when you mentioned that you were not a local traitor.

You're actually quite curious why your hometown, which you had to make your own pilgrimage to, didn't take you back after your unexpected death.

You sometimes wonder, if you had returned to your native hell, would you have already been reincarnated, instead of struggling to "go to heaven" in a foreign hell?

People from China have the strongest attachment to their homeland, especially someone like you with impeccable revolutionary credentials.

How pitiful! He couldn't return to his hometown to eat any local specialties while he was alive, and now he's in hell working as a cook for foreigners after he's dead.

"You seem to be in a bad mood, Miss Chef."

Alastor, who seems unconcerned about what you just said, is only annoyingly perceptive at times like this.

He first straightened his collar, then pulled out a severed hand from somewhere and held it in front of you. He even used the severed hand to gently lift the black hair that was covering half of your face.

You notice him staring at you with great interest.

"It's just homesickness, haven't you heard of it?"

You slapped the thing out of his hand, then reached out with a look of disgust to put your hair up in a bun.

The main reason you don't like changing clothes is that your long, unnatural hair is difficult to style.

If it weren't for the fact that every inch of your body has a different function, you, with your aversion to trouble, would have shaved your head bald in revenge long ago.

However, as someone who rarely touched her hair during her lifetime and even used her dragon horns and tail to prop up her hair after death for convenience, it's unlikely that she could style her hair to match this outfit.

Finally showing signs of annoyance, you clicked your tongue and became even more impatient with your actions.

And then Alastor would lift his toes and tap them on the ground next to you, looking completely relaxed and happy as he watched you suffer.

"Why haven't you left yet? They're filming an advertisement over there. As the major shareholder, aren't you going to supervise the work?"

You glanced at the sinner lord who had been watching your every move, and felt a creepy discomfort all over your body, as if ants were crawling on you.

You plan to change your clothes as soon as this troublesome broadcasting devil leaves.

“I just don’t want to see anyone destroy my masterpiece while I’m away, darling.”

Having completely grasped what you were thinking, Alastor casually glanced at his own fingernails.

He looked far more elegant than you, that stiff-moving, unlucky guy whose calm expression had long since crumbled.

"Do you need my help? How about we make a simple deal like Shirley's little lover? You answer a few harmless questions I'll ask you later, and I'll help you with this trivial matter right now."

He emitted a slight radio-like noise from his voice.

Right after he finished speaking, the sounds of Angel and Vicky greeting you could be heard from the bustling filming location.

You almost thought they did it on purpose.

"Oh, look, some people over there are already getting impatient. Hopefully, we still have time to choose?"

Alastor, completely forced into this situation, casually tossed aside the severed limb he was still holding and strolled briskly to your side, his eyes slightly curved.

You always feel that the notorious sinner lord seems to have a lot more to say to you.

But his roundabout way of talking to you always makes you feel annoyed, like someone who wants to talk to you but first sends a "Are you there?" message.

"Don't ask questions you already know the answers to. Of all the people I know, only you can perfectly embody the phrase 'the true colors are revealed when the map is unrolled'."

Knowing that arguing with him was pointless and might even result in you losing out, you rolled your eyes.

"I won't answer questions that are too private. Although Shirley doesn't want me to go too far, if you push your luck, I'm sure the scene that follows will be quite ugly."

You gave the cunning Wendigo a warning glare.

The other person didn't find your threat offensive; instead, he tapped his own shoulder with his ever-present cane, seemingly quite interested.

"...Of course, this is not an unreasonable request. Now, do what you want, great broadcasting demon."

Seeing that Alastor hadn't given up on making a deal with you, and even seemed intent on stalling the entire project on your end, you, who were absolutely useless at shooting commercials, finally bowed down to the crimson sinner before you.

"Excellent! Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Chef!"

It's as if Alastor, who seems to be doing some kind of advertisement, ignored the most important part of your statement.

The broadcasting demon, immediately excited, waved his cane with great pleasure.

In the blink of an eye, several winged imps that had signed a contract with him emerged from the shadows on the ground.

They laughed and tidied up your messy hair, then gently lifted it up like a bouquet of flowers, their speed astonishing.

"Although I have seen several beautiful ladies with amazing hair, the chef is still the one who surprised me the most."

The broadcasting demon, speaking in a voice as if advising a child, maintained his standard smile while tapping a dizzy little demon servant who nearly bumped into you with the microphone head of his cane.

"Remember to be gentle with ladies, you silly little ones."

The souls bound by Alastor's contract worked swiftly and quickly molded you into Alastor's ideal form.

After the imp finished tidying you up, Alastor, who had been watching you being groomed, slowly approached you and politely and gentlemanly extended his arm to you: "Do you mind if you don't want to enter the ball on all fours?"

You could hear the undisguised mockery in his tone.

Although the Broadcast Demon is a somewhat wicked guy, he has always been very tolerant and polite to women, so he shouldn't do anything bad at this time, right?

Although you have no gender, you are at least outwardly female.

Your expression returned to indifference as you glanced at Alastor, who at least seemed to have no hostility, before reluctantly placing your hand on his arm.

The sinners in hell are noticeably thin or oddly shaped, and there are also some who openly display their appearances that would not pass censorship.

After arriving in the Pride Ring, you always felt that many of the sights in the outside world were too much for your eyes, and it seemed as if all the handsome men and beautiful women in the Pride Ring were concentrated in the Hell Inn—the Broadcasting Demon was no exception.

Alastor is asexual, so you probably suffer from frigidity.

So in a way, you and the broadcasting demon are like two parallel lines that will never intersect in this lifetime.

But guess this is also why, once the sweet and sour smell of romance in the hotel got stronger, you two immediately stood together in perfect unison?

But you're an honest person. If your frigidity were cured someday, you might pursue this well-mannered and gentlemanly radio devil in front of you.

After all, Alastor's gentlemanly manners and intelligent nature were truly alluring...

Although this idea sounds pretty scary.

You shook your head.

But Alastor's public image is too obvious.

He can be polite yet wicked, powerful yet prone to madness, intelligent and strategic... most importantly, he has a waist so thin you could wrap your hand around it. Just looking at his outward appearance, he's pretty hot, isn't he?

Amused by your own thoughts, you turned your head and lazily glanced at Alastor's bluish-gray profile.