Hell Inn: Rebirth - I Became a Chef in Hell

Chapter 126 Dragon and Deer - S01 E05

The familiar voices sang a song that seemed to come from a small island that had suddenly appeared in Alastor's view.

...Perhaps it was because of that song in a different language that he was able to see this island?

Wendigo's eyes widened slightly with curiosity and excitement as he found himself in a completely new world.

The island made of white sand floated silently on the water, like the tomb of a dead moon.

The island's silhouette gradually became clearer, from a small, indistinct shape, until the sinner lord, an uninvited guest, could see its entirety.

A massive, astonishingly large, complete keel covered it like a makeshift cage.

He saw the intricately structured and beautifully formed spine and the distinct, snow-white ribs.

They gleamed with a pale, pure light on the gray horizon, like plants that could only grow from the remnants of the moon.

Seeing this scene, Wendigo, with his hands behind his back, maintained his exaggerated smile, his red eyes narrowing slightly.

There was no sign of life in the dark water beneath his feet.

An ordinary person might feel some fear towards this unknown water, but Alastor, being a demon, only felt curiosity.

Perhaps at first he was only wary of her unfathomable strength, but after she showed him all that was so vast and completely unknown, Alastor found himself growing to "like" her more and more.

Wendigo, who seemed to be in a good mood, was unaware that he was there to rescue people. After briefly scanning his surroundings, he stopped and poked the water with the bottom of his cane.

The microphone cane only created a few tiny ripples on the calm, still water, and nothing else happened.

"..."

Seeing this, Alastor, who was immersed in the singing, raised one eyebrow and showed a hint of interest.

Ha, as expected, his abilities are practically useless in this "world"... In other words, he should now be considered an unsuspecting devil?

When the broadcast demon realized that even the weakest human could easily kill him at this moment, a strange look of displeasure mixed with excitement flashed across his face.

But Alastor didn't waste too much time sensing his surroundings. The slender demon walked briskly toward the conspicuous island.

The soft white sand made a very light sound when stepped on, but the Broadcasting Demon didn't pay much attention to the change in scenery when he set foot on the island.

The male demon, as if on a leisurely vacation, looked around at the scenery before him—or rather, it was just a white sand island floating in the boundless waters.

He looked up at the white bones of the dragon's spine, which resembled a shattered dome.

It meanders forward, its head hidden from view; Alastor can only see a small patch of flowers covered with different kinds of white flowers.

"...whoosh—hiss."

A faint, almost inaudible radio noise fell onto the snow-white sand.

Like stardust, fragments of sand peered at the soles of the gentleman's leather shoes, which were emblazoned with red deer hooves.

The sinner lord, with his droopy eyes, looked relaxed, but no one knew what was hidden beneath his dangerous smile.

Perhaps he was momentarily confused? What was this wise old gentleman from the Golden Age thinking as he entered the fire gate belonging to ■■■?

Perhaps only he himself knows the truth about all of this.

—But I wonder if he was also looking forward to this moment?

This...the moment of reunion?

As the demon from hell approached the flowerbed, he felt as if he had stepped into the territory of some kind of creature.

When an unknown force rushed toward Alastor, even the vigilant and infamous Broadcast Demon probably had a moment of realization.

It seemed like it only lasted a few seconds.

Before meeting the girl from another land, he felt as if his soul had been ripped from his hellish body, and then he stood before her completely.

He was somewhat surprised that he was having such a hallucination.

Before easily shaking off this feeling, the sinner lord, who had crawled out of the killing field, thought he had been attacked.

But before he could truly see with his own eyes who was at the center of the flowerbed, the soul that had separated from his body had already seen everything before him.

At this moment, ■■■ looks like a pitiful hollow clay figurine that has been smashed.

Not to mention that she now only has what looks like a short upper body, and the parts where a woman's limbs should be connected are broken into different shapes, making her look extremely miserable.

Her entire right brain was shattered.

Alastor could see through the empty inner shell a beautiful white camellia that shouldn't have grown from the ground.

He took the place of the woman's right eye, and proudly opened it within.

Whether in hell or in this flowerbed, ■■■'s skin looked terribly pale... or rather, she was not much different from those oriental ceramic dolls displayed in antique shops.

A few pieces of cloth that looked like they had been burned hung loosely on her body, barely covering her; but her body was now completely devoid of any eroticism, except for being in pieces.

Although he came from hell, an old gentleman would never be rude to a lady.

Wendigo's gaze, devoid of any lust, swept over the dragon girl's battered body. The woman's excessively pale skin made the spiderweb-like and root-like cracks on her body look even more shocking.

What Alastor noticed next was probably the uneven hair that was cushioning her back.

The dragon girl's hair was always the longest in the entire inn, so much so that she had to constantly curl it with her tail to keep it from falling to the ground.

Although Alastor wasn't the type to care about the appearance of other demons in Hell, ■■■ always complained that her hair was in the way, but she never cut it short, and Alastor was always curious about why she did that.

But at this moment, her once beautiful, cascading long hair looked no different from the curtains in a dilapidated haunted house.

■■■The beautiful and aggressive dragon horns on her head were all broken off; the horns, which originally seemed to have magma flowing in them, were now buried in her hair like two ruins of different lengths.

The roots of the flowers crisscrossed in the gaps of the Dragon Girl's body. Although her body was covered with gaps of fragile things, most of those gaps were filled with clusters of pure white flowers.

Things in Hell are always bright red, especially the Pride Ring, which is entirely red, making the white-clad [illegible] look out of place most of the time.

Is it because white represents holiness? Perhaps most demons think so; large expanses of white remind them of the repulsive faces of angels.

But at this moment, Alastor felt that white was so suitable for him.

The ever-powerful Dragon Girl was thrown to the ground like a fragile object by a mischievous visitor, shattering into pieces, with all her flesh and internal organs nowhere to be found.

The whiteness on ■■■'s body is not a haughty, hypocritical purity, but a whiteness that can be tainted, is fragile, and is a paleness that attempts to save others, thus washing away its own filth time and time again without any fluctuation.

Her white skin carried a weariness that came from being destroyed.

Desolate, struggling, and gorgeous, absurdly and tenderly catching everything that burns out, and then burning again, scarred and battered.

The white flame was powerful and indestructible, but the fire gate behind it lay broken and scattered in the center of the flowerbed.

There was no crying, no despair, no pleading, nothing at all, just like the white flame itself.

Alastor felt a strange sensation, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Was it the blood stimulating his taste buds? Was it the raw meat sliding down his esophagus into his abdominal cavity? Or was it his absurdity at seeing others' fear of him?

Wendigo stared at the female demon before him.

■■■She seems to have transcended the basic concept of appearance, but Wendigo doesn't know how to describe her.

Why would a human soul become such an existence? Why was [name omitted] created by the faith of such a noisy creature as humans? How many secrets does she still hold?

Alastor gazed at the strangely beautiful, yet incomparably exquisite, broken pottery figurine before him.

Her singing stopped a long time ago.

Wendigo was unsure whether he was mesmerized by the horrific scene before them or if time was flowing differently in their world.

Although her perpetually expressionless and boring face somewhat ruined the atmosphere, he actually wanted to see her disheveled appearance a little longer... but due to his personality, he ultimately spoke up, following his true feelings:

Good morning, my little sleepyhead! Did you sleep well?

"Ah...what a wonderful day!"

Even if it's just a dream, at least we can meet again here—

"my dear……"

How much longer are you going to daydream here?

"There are people out there who miss you very much! Someone asked me to come here to pick you up."

"I suppose you're a proper adult, Miss, but the great broadcasting devil doesn't mind taking a playful child home~"

"So, aren't you coming with me?"

-

You stare at Alastor, who is speaking eloquently like an opera singer, and you can't help but feel astonished.

He overlaps with a shadow in your vague memory, and he gracefully extends his hand to you.

But this time you saw his baby face clearly.

I saw his red hair swaying slightly in the air.

I noticed his always confident, slightly droopy eyes.

The old gentleman's red figure completely replaced the man with dark brown hair that you could no longer see clearly.

Until, in a half-dreaming, half-awake state, that shadow you only met once is something pulls from your mind.