Hell Inn: Rebirth - I Became a Chef in Hell

Chapter 157 Like a Burglary - S01E06

"..."

Christina stared wide-eyed at the woman before her, as if she were seeing some indescribable ancient god.

The woman seemed to still be carefully choosing her words, but every word she uttered would send shivers down the spines of any creature in hell.

She acted as if she had no idea what the sinners in hell might do to her.

Faced with her foolish behavior, which was like that of a hypocrite, Christina could think of more than one satisfying revenge to tear her naive behavior apart!

Or you could just stab her countless times with that knife.

Or he might continue to deceive her, making her keep spending money on him.

Or perhaps they could slash her bizarre face, slit her throat, and silence her mouth that always speaks inexplicably yet arrogantly.

Or perhaps you could find a bunch of idle thugs and criminals to break into the bakery, smash everything up, and then enjoy her uninteresting body...

Malicious thoughts kept churning in Christina's mind.

She felt her mind had never been so active, like a stone stirring up ripples in the brain of a heinous scoundrel.

'Will this woman know that the sinner before her harbors countless thoughts of tormenting and ravaging her?'

'Does she know she's in hell, and what kind of scumbags are in hell?'

'If she knew all this... would she still say such stupid and laughable things to her?'

But Christina neither put her actions into practice nor asked those questions.

She felt as if she was just having an unrealistic dream.

She could only stare blankly as everything unfolded before her eyes.

...But Christina felt that devils wouldn't have such terrible dreams, nor should they.

For souls that have fallen into hell, all goodness is a matter of whether they deserve it or not.

But don't worry, 98 percent of the souls in hell don't deserve the word "beautiful," and the remaining 1 percent will destroy their own happiness, while the other 1 percent disdains all of this.

Christina believes she can be any one of these three types of people.

But the money and bread the woman gave her were heavy, yet they felt like they were in her hands, which genuinely terrified her.

There was no condescension or disdain, not even pity, just pure, nauseating, and terrifying goodwill.

The woman's hands were very cold, like ice cubes just taken out of the freezer.

She carried a weary, travel-worn air about her, like a rock that had been swept by the sea breeze ten thousand times.

Even if a woman's body is as cold and lifeless as a living thing, it still smells much better than the mixture of sulfur and other disgusting things on the street.

...But Christina was now certain.

This foolish woman shouldn't even be in hell!

How did she manage to live to this day?

She should die before those scumbags who only know how to sleep! At least they were trying to live for themselves!

But what is this stupid woman doing?

Is it possible for an idiot to go crazy like this?

Shouldn't they be the kind of scoundrels who, after going crazy, kill everyone and then act like they're the biggest victims?

Why would such a monster descend into hell?

Is she dreaming?

Christina's pupils trembled uncontrollably.

The woman's wide sleeves swept across her arms like seabirds.

Christina, who felt she wouldn't be this horrified and disgusted even if she saw someone turn into a pool of corpses in front of her, smelled the odor of an oven.

It's just ordinary bread.

It wasn't charred pieces of its own kind, nor blood, nor filthy excrement, nor sulfur, nor...

Nothing.

It's not even hell.

When the other person's fingertips brushed against Christina's skin, the street thug who had just been so arrogant and domineering, as if she wanted to tear down the whole bakery, suddenly gasped.

Under the woman's cold yet calm gaze, Christina turned and fled in panic.

Like a wild cat that has been scalded.

"Please don't slam our door..."

"boom!!!"

……

She could almost imagine what the bread would taste like, even just by looking at it.

She could picture the dough rising in the oven.

The bread crust slowly turns golden brown in the oven, emitting an enticing aroma of wheat; pressing it slightly will produce a crackling sound as the crisp crust crumbles, like deliciousness exploding in the air.

The hot dogs were grilled until the skin was charred, and warm, oily juices overflowed from the meat.

That meat floss must have been carefully stir-fried.

The shredded meat, soaked in the essence of spices, shimmered with a fragrant light under the variegated skylight. With the slightest movement, the excess filling would fall off the oily crust of the bread.

Delicious food and money were laid out in her hands.

Christina felt that she would probably never forget the woman whose name she didn't even know, until she completely perished.

She will never forget that day.

Even though it was an easy and effortless gain, Christina felt something strange throbbing in her heart.

Normally, Christina thought, she should be endlessly asking such a fool for money—

As it turned out, she did just that afterwards.

That foolish woman always believed her lies.

It could be that they were coerced, that they owed debts, or... any strange reason.

As long as Christina tells that woman she is hurt by something and that she needs money, she can get what she wants from her without any problem.

I can't figure it out.

Later, she actually learned the woman's name.

■■■.

That's such a strange name, isn't it? What kind of person would choose such an odd name?

But perhaps that's why she doesn't seem very bright? After all, there are indeed some people who seem to be born liking to be coerced by others... Maybe this woman is just like that?

Because of the other person's really strange personality, Christina didn't actually have much in-depth communication with the woman who worked at the Little Devil Bakery.

She didn't see ■■■ for about a week afterward.

She found it strange, but didn't want to ask the little devils in the shop. Because the little devils were all idiots; they knew absolutely nothing.

Later, Christina felt her memory was a little hazy—but that's how sinners in hell live.

Everyone is living in a daze; to survive today is to survive countless foolish tomorrows.

I received news from ■■■ again about two weeks later.

Christina learned from others that the apartment building had burned down, along with a series of vague and dubious pieces of information...

But she felt that ■■■ was probably dead.

But when this thought came to mind, Christina inexplicably felt a sense of relief.

She didn't know whether she was relieved that [someone] had left this awful place, or whether she felt her guess was right after all—that for someone like her, being alive was the fulfillment of her greatest fear…

■■■'s gentleness was nothing short of a violent breach of the door for the sinners, carrying a terrifying connotation.

She didn't even care whether the devils accepted her; she simply swept everything away, leaving behind a terrifying mess.

Wouldn't it be better if this guy were dead?

Isn't it because they do stupid things that they can only live in cheap apartments?

Why do we always end up spending money on bastards?

What can they offer her?

...That's absolutely stupid!

Although her mind was filled with malicious mockery, Christina always felt a faint sense of melancholy during the period after learning of ■■■'s "death".

She felt her chest or heart was bulging, as if it were filled with unlit tobacco, and her cheeks occasionally felt dry and uncomfortable.

Christina felt she might still want to mock something, like how this idiot should have died long ago...

But she didn't.

But she didn't understand why she was like this.

■■■To her, she was just an insignificant ATM—

But she clearly hates her.

■■■ She got the stupid death she deserved; after all, someone like her wasn't suited to live in this hell where everyone deserved their fate.

But why is she still alive?

Why did she come back here?

……

...And why...do you still recognize me?

Or perhaps... she's here to take revenge on me?

In so many dreams, whether before or after the breakup, Christina always thought of that woman.

Thinking of her frail body, pale face, golden eyes, and a scent unlike anything in hell.

The day she met her, she thought she had returned to the human world.

Since she was destined for hell, Christina knew she wasn't a good person.

She was still that poor street hustler who could only rummage through everyone's pockets on the street, yet couldn't even afford a bowl of hot soup at night.

The scars from her father's beatings and the marks of sexual assault on the girl's body could never be washed away. She imagined herself as a thorny monster, killing everyone who was happier than her.

Fight fiercely, hurt everyone with your own pain, and live an angry life until you burn out.

She'll show everyone her wretched state and the rotting flesh infested with maggots beneath her scars, then laugh it all off and blow the whole world to smithereens.

Christina, of course, knew that she was wicked.

She died just as all those high-and-mighty eyes expected, only unaware of who was watching her pathetic and laughable life, or who was judging her at this moment.

She froze to death in one winter, like a wild cat that no one saw or cared about.

She was not surprised at all that she would fall into hell.

Can humans choose their own living environment?

Is it possible to choose whether or not to be born?

Why is living so painful?

What exactly is happiness?

Was it the money that woman gave her? Was it the two pieces of bread that she left to rot before eating with dirty water?

Was it that woman's cold yet incredibly soft fingertips?

Why do I always miss that woman's face?

Why does she still look the same, even more incomprehensible than before?

Think so.

And so, Christina began to have another wistful dream.

A dream about ■■■.