"Phew—ah… that broke a sweat. All right, everyone, jump back in at a moderate pace. If you're hurt to the point it affects your duties, raise your hand~"
Well, look at that. More than half of you dove right back in?
"Good. Then one more cycle…"
"Man, I suddenly feel like punching the clock and heading into a shift…"
"Ugh, I really can't wait!"
Mm. Mm. Yeah. That's the right attitude drilled in.
"Good. That's a relief. If you'd all been injured, I'd've had to stay behind and carry the fight~"
That little devil…
"Quit glaring at me and let's reconvene on Monday, okay?"
Today's Saturday, and this was the first drill—honestly, I've cut you slack.
I'd love to run two more cycles if it were up to me…
Anyone who saw my eyes light up bolted for the locker rooms, no questions asked.
"What, I wasn't trying to kill you. Why run screaming?"
"…Are you serious?"
"What, why?"
Come on, Chen—you jumped in all eager yourself, and now you're calling me crazy?
"Sigh… I'll just shut up. I help you out and get treated like this… might as well just perish."
"Why are you talking like some old-timer who's seen it all?"
Well, I've lived over thirty years already. By years lived, I'm nearly forty.
"…What are you doing out here instead of heading to the locker room?"
"Cleaning up, obviously. Did you think I'd skip that?"
This free training ground's a resource. Some people really don't appreciate the value of a credit.
"…You're all earnest when it comes to cleanup…"
"I'm earnest by nature."
Methodically butchering trainees is work too, you know? What do you take me for?
Once I roughly finished tidying up, I popped the dried persimmon I'd brought into my mouth and chewed. When blood sugar's low, there's nothing better.
"Ah… I feel alive again."
"Chen? Baekhyun? What are you two doing? Aren't you changing out of your gear?"
"On it now."
"Hey, don't copy me."
"I said it first, okay? This is so childish."
"What was that? I said I did it first, didn't I? You're thirty-seven now—ears going?"
"Why the hell am I thirty-seven, you damn magpie!"
"Ah! Hey, my feathers! They're falling out!"
Liprova have feathers alongside their hair. I'm no exception. That insane mini-drake reminded me how damn painful they are—like human sideburns.
"Both of you cut it out."
"Fine. Let's settle this honorably with blades."
"What? I'm the loser here. Where's the honor?"
"If you're so miffed, be stronger."
"You cowardly wretch!"
What, I'm the strong one here—why does that make me the coward?
I finished a quick shower and stepped outside; it was already a late winter afternoon with a biting wind.
"Did I wrap up too early…"
"What? Can't you see my arms and legs are shaking?"
"Well, that's what happens when you charge in without thinking. With your muscles moving unnaturally, how could your body not ache?"
Rushing in headlong just stacks up fatigue. But I'm still in my prime.
"What should I have for dinner…"
Come to think of it, I need to do the grocery run today.
Otis used to handle this annoying chore for me every day. The absolute G.O.A.T.
Otis always… cooked for me.
"Stop that useless crap and swing your sword, rookie!"
Ah, I'll just stop myself. Even if I try to think fondly, that woman's got issues.
"What're your plans for dinner?"
"Well, I guess I'll hit the market and cook something."
"Oh… is that so."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"No, Chen, come here. I'll help you walk."
Why the hell is Talulah suddenly so interested in our dinner?
"Then I guess I'll go grocery shopping too."
"This one's nearly past its expiration, and this one… looks fine, but there's something off."
Any mercenary knows grocery shopping can be harder than cutting people down. If you don't, you're a psychopath.
"Well, this should do."
A warzone even at a big supermarket—this world sure isn't easy.
"Oh, little one, are you going to carry that by yourself? It's pretty heavy… where are your parents?"
"I don't have any."
"Oh… um, s-sorry…"
"It's okay. And this isn't that heavy."
I didn't lift a boulder the size of my torso for sword training for nothing.
"Then why the hell did you have me use my strength carrying your dried persimmons last time, you piece of trash."
"Did you even consider who'd be responsible if you set it down and spoiled those persimmons?"
"Why the hell should I be responsible for that?"
If it's such an issue, you shouldn't have been inside. You barged in and now you're whining at me?
"Jesus Christ, you brat just waltzed in and took a spot."
"You couldn't fight back because you're weak, right? Can't deny it? You're pissed, right? You want to kill me, right? But you can't?"
"Huff… dammit, in my entire life, you're the first bastard I've ever wanted to squash like a bug."
"But you can't, right? That's the bitterness of a loser, huh? Pissed off as hell and you can't say a word?"
…
"Huh?"
I called out to her a few more times after that, but that last line must've been the knockout blow. She didn't say another word, just gave me the cold shoulder…
"I'm not sulking!!!"
Fine. Let it be. Damn my head's ringing…
So, what did I choose for dinner today?
"Let's make steamed egg custard~. Ah, tastes so gooood~ steamed egg custard."
"You sound like an old man."
"At my age lived, I'm almost forty."
I settled on the quintessential Korean dish, the most perfect egg creation—steamed egg custard: kids love it, a bar treat, a father's nutritious snack.
"Wait, didn't something change halfway through?"
"I don't know. Don't dwell on words already spoken."
Better to focus on the egg custard at hand. Exactly three eggs. In Columbia they call it 'egg the world.'
"Really?"
"Do you think so?"
Either way, crack the eggs, add a pinch of salt and a little water, finely chop green onions and carrot, and…
pa-ba-ba-ba-ba-pak!
"Of course, no matter how you slice it, a persimmon never dies~ yeah!"
"Hey. You forgot the sugar."
"Huh? Sugar? That's a pain—can't we skip it?"
"Hey now. You've watched the evolution of Danguk cuisine and you'll listen to my advice! Add it right away!"
"Fine, fine, geez."
Anyway, toss in the sugar and beat the eggs well.
"Wooooo! Mix together!"
"Hey! Handle it gently! It's gonna splash everywhere!"
Then pour into a good earthenware pot, start on high heat, reduce to medium, and once the eggs puff up, you're done!
"All right. It's done!"
"Mm. It definitely smells good though."
"See? You're unexpectedly versatile, huh?"
"Well, I'm freaking amaaazing… huh?"
What the hell. That wyrm—no, half a dragon's head anyway—
"Why are you guys here?"
"…When you enter a friend's home, you don't need a reason."
"Exactly. Just grab a spoon and sit. Hurry up."
"…Damn it, this is my place though?"
"I guess your luck with women is completely fucked."
There's a saying: if you cook dinner with care, ungrateful Eastern and Western wyrms will just lay spoon to your bowl. I absolutely hate that saying.
"Hey, one more bowl. Hey, you cook well, huh?"
"…Otis, Lee Sang, Faust, Don Quixote, Sinclair, Moejang… I fucking miss them."
Ah, how I long for the old days…
ding-dong!
"What is it? Who is it…?"
"Sniff sniff… What? You were eating?"
And at the door stands a damn tiger.
"…Swire, it looks like some of them arrived before us, huh?"
Correction. It was Ratatouille riding a tiger.
"Let me correct you too. Looks like your luck with women is stuck in a shit barrel, huh?"
Don't correct me, you lump of enemies.
"Huh?"
…Jesus Christ.