Hell Inn: Rebirth - I Became a Chef in Hell

Chapter 72 Then call the police and have me arrested.

"...I understand. If I get any information about the people involved in the trade of Death Dust, I will notify you immediately."

Auster, who never hesitated when ■■■ was angry, nodded solemnly to her.

Seeing that ■■■'s expression had softened, Osder quietly added, "As for what you requested to buy in the human world..."

"Just leave them where they are, I'll use teleportation magic to hand them over... Uh, I'm in a hurry to get back to the inn now. I've finished explaining what I needed to say, so I won't chat with you anymore, is that alright?"

"I'm really not in the mood for casual conversation today," you said in a slightly weak voice.

To be honest, a lot happened today... You wouldn't even be an exaggeration to describe today as full of ups and downs.

To my shame, you're a demon who can only work on one thread. You can't even handle a particularly annoying lame joke from a sinner while you're cooking.

Things like today that require you to constantly make choices and expend social energy—well, even though your body never gets tired, you wish you could just go back to your room and collapse into bed right now.

Otherwise, your mental state might become like parched land, cracked with fissures.

Perhaps because you looked rather tired, even though Auster seemed to want to talk to you a little longer, the Grim Reaper wearing a skull mask kindly allowed you to hang up the call.

As the small portal in front of you disappeared, you remained silent for a moment before lowering your eyelashes and reaching out your hand directly in front of you.

A clever little black dragon, flowing like ink, spun out from your forearm, and soon, a gentle breeze brought a magic circle shimmering with purple light. Your unique power traversed two realms, efficiently bringing you what the Grim Reapers had purchased for you.

The thing wrapped in the black plastic bag was still bleeding. Although you caught it with your tail in time, you grimaced slightly in disgust knowing what was inside.

You used your tail to hook the black plastic bag high, while your hand caught the light pink paper bag that looked like it had much more upscale packaging.

After ending your spell, you subconsciously glanced at the arrogant ring of sky, which was always blood red.

You cannot judge the time by the different concentrations of red in the Pride Ring, because the Pride Ring is always filled with a glaring red light.

But judging from the time on the phone, it should be late at night now.

To avoid being harassed by those rebellious criminals, you, carrying your belongings alone on the street, simply choose to return to the inn via the rooftop path.

Although you could easily fly back to the inn at the speed of a stealth fighter, you don't really enjoy flying in the skies of the Pride Ring.

As for why you don't like flying around in arrogance... it's mainly because flying in the air is too eye-catching, and also because some bastards will attack you.

There are always many people in the world who can't stand seeing others do well, but coincidentally... hell is full of people who can't stand seeing others do well.

Standing on the rooftop, you glance at the 3V Tower in the distance, a prime location that is now brightly lit.

The dazzling neon lights of the sinner lords, at their glorious peak, were momentarily comparable to the arrogant red skylight. You stared at the tower for a while before turning your bored gaze downstairs.

Offending people on the street can lead to drug use, getting high, vomiting on the street after drinking too much, or even having sex in the street... the list goes on and on.

After witnessing two male criminals exchanging saliva on a street corner, seemingly oblivious to their surroundings, you avert your gaze as if burned, your expression contorted, and you begin to seriously worry about whether you'll get a sty.

You think it might be because it's late at night that "some" sinners are becoming more active.

Because these sinners are making such a big fuss, you sadly find that you can no longer use the arrogant red buildings to distract yourself.

You begin to miss the time when the demon was with you.

You hindsightly think you should have put the portal back to the inn in the first place, instead of making yourself suffer by walking up to the rooftop like this—you really enjoyed seeing this cringe-worthy scene today.

Whenever you're outside, you try to avoid being suffocated by the fumes by weakening your hearing and sense of smell. This is the main reason why you not only look expressionless but also appear dull when you're out.

Because you've been suffering mentally on the way back to the inn, when you open the door and smell the dusty smell that's much better than vomit or excrement, you feel like you're about to burst into tears.

The inn's door opened and closed with a heavy thud, and the red sunlight streamed through it onto the ground.

The stained glass windows that should have been in churches are now shared with hell.

The moment you closed the door, your sensitive ears immediately heard the shadow's "sound".

It was a rustling, eerie sound, like the roots of plants climbing in the soil, or like a ghost breathing a "whooshing" sound in your ear.

The jumbled static from the radio briefly vibrated behind you.

"Let me see what I caught? Ah~ it's a thief with a long tail."

It's like a shadow slipping from the armchair in the hall into the floor, then staring at your back in the darkness like some predatory beast lurking in the shadows.

Even without turning around, you can imagine the other person's dangerously narrowed red eyes.

Simply because you dislike having a demon staring at you in the dark, you rubbed the smooth wooden frame of the door with your fingertips before slowly turning to look at the person speaking behind you.

Wendigo's exposed fangs, revealed by his enormous smile, gleamed with a chilling aura in the darkness. He tilted his head slightly, gazing at you with his usual arrogant expression.

The broadcasting devil, who always elegantly clasped his hands behind his back, seemed to have no intention of saying another word. The microphone cane he never parted with emitted intermittent static in his hand.

The sinner lord's figure was half hidden in the dark inn's thick shadows, and half illuminated by the light streaming in from outside the door, appearing as red as blood.

When Wendigo uttered that one last sentence, his usually loud and emotional voice surprisingly didn't sound so harsh at that moment.

After making that somewhat offensive remark, the usually sarcastic and talkative male demon fell silent in your presence—he seemed to be waiting for your response.

You hear him gently rubbing the toes of his shoes, as if expressing some kind of displeasure and impatience.

"...So what are you going to do? Are you planning to just move that noble finger and call the police to arrest me, you infamous Mr. Broadcasting Devil?"

Having just endured the torment of sinners on the Arrogant Ring Street, you sighed, your voice visibly weary, and replied to the red-clad gentleman in front of you, who seemed lost in thought, in a listless tone.

You have no idea what you did to offend him again—you don't even know that Alastor is still awake at this hour…or does this radio devil even sleep at night?

Perhaps because of your poor mental state, you frowned as your mind started to wander.

"Ha! Very good! For the chef, this is at least a passable joke~"

Upon hearing your words, Alastor, with a hint of mockery in his tone, emitted a series of chaotic "shush" sounds, the kind that only an old-fashioned radio would make.

After commenting on your remarks, accompanied by a crisp cracking sound of bones breaking, the broadcasting demon who had been waiting for you in the lobby for some reason snapped its own neck in an exaggerated manner.

While maintaining this strange posture and staring at you, he deliberately narrowed his blood-red eyes, his lower eyelids displaying an arc that seemed both pleasant and scrutinizing.

"...What do you want from me?"

Because Alastor staring at a demon like that couldn't be anything good, you couldn't help but ask him this question, intending to strike first.

"..."

Upon hearing your question, the Broadcast Demon seemed to have swallowed a radio and emitted an incomprehensible old-fashioned audio, which quickly stopped abruptly with a hissing sound.

After a few seconds of contemplation, the somewhat neurotic male demon suddenly widened his eyes dramatically and without warning, and casually put one arm around your shoulder.

"It's nothing! I just think it's particularly funny and ridiculous to make all the people you care about wait all night on such an ordinary night—what do you think?"

With a mocking tone, Alastor pointed to the long sofa in the hall with his microphone cane.

Wendigo's fluffy red head is plastered all over your face.

As you were being tickled by his red hair, making you want to sneeze, you realized for the first time that being poked by Alastor's newly sprouted antlers actually hurt quite a bit.

The two tiny crescent moons of the broadcast demon antlers looked like razor blades scraping against his face... Wait, what did he just say?

"■■■!"

Just as you looked wearily in the direction Alastor was pointing with a sense of impending doom, a messy-looking royal golden head popped out from behind the chair.

Before Shirley rushed over and threw herself into your arms, Alastor, who seemed to want to avoid getting caught in the crossfire, had already quietly retreated to the side.

The scarlet Wendigo's expression looked rather bored at this moment.

He first elegantly adjusted the one-way mirror on his right eye, and then rubbed the collar of his suit jacket with his hand.

After tidying himself up, he stood there like a silent shadow, blinking his two droopy eyes one after the other.

Your unwavering gaze was immediately noticed by the other party, and the unabashed broadcasting devil's smile widened even further after he realized you were staring at him.

But he just stood there, grinning eerily like a skinny ghost, without saying a word.

"...Tsk."

Seeing this, you silently withdrew your gaze and let out a single syllable as if expressing speechlessness, while touching Shirley who had hugged you at lightning speed with one hand.

"Good heavens, I thought something had happened to you!"

"Holding you up like a puppy, with your head raised and your eyes peeking out, Shirley said this in a slightly aggrieved voice."

"I was going to call you, but..."

The little princess of Hell has beautiful blonde hair that looks like it has just been bruised and battered. When she speaks, the blush on her face moves with her rich expressions, making her look especially cute.

Ah, Shirley Morningstar, you lovely Disney girl who can most effectively cleanse the soul in hell...

Trying to erase the cringe-worthy scene you had just witnessed from your mind with the soothing beauty of Shirley's face, you closed your eyes with a pious expression.