“Hey, you two, guard the house well.”
[Going on a date?]
[If it’s the 202 lady, why not invite her here? I’d cook a tasty meal.]
“Shut up. Anyway, it might take a day. I’m counting on you, CatMan. If it comes to it, open RiceCookerMan’s lid and fight together.”
[I can now crush with a jump too!]
Even RiceCookerMan can do active defense now.
With a power cord and a jump from the bed to squash, he works as a weapon too.
If I could really fly, I might even use “Flying Rice Cooker.”
“I’ll keep watch!”
“Oh, yes. Princess, please.”
“Yup!”
So cute.
She seems to be growing, but I hope she doesn’t.
If she hits puberty, it’d be too sad.
For now, I headed to my parents’ place.
If I’d mastered Space Teleportation, I could set it as a base, but I’m not there yet.
“Who’re you? Not my runaway son, are you?”
“What, greeting a son who left to earn money with a knife?”
Mom’s chopping vegetables and points the knife at me.
“What’s up, showing up out of nowhere? No call?”
“Lend me the car, Mom.”
“What?”
“Hurry.”
“Need it? Buy your own. When’re you earning enough to buy one?”
CatMan and everyone—why’s everyone nagging me to buy a car?
“I’ll buy a new one when the time comes. For now, I’m borrowing it.”
“What for, punk?”
“To make money.”
“Oh, really? Keys are there. Take it. Tank’s full.”
Says “make money,” and she hands over the keys.
So I took Mom’s crapmobile and hit the road.
Not saying it’s bad performance-wise, but she drove it through fields, and it smells faintly of manure.
“How many washes to get rid of this smell?”
The house of Kim Chang-hwan’s parents is in a remote rural area, even for Daejeon’s transport hub, so I needed a car.
Arrived by evening.
There’s a Western-style rural house Kim Chang-hwan’s parents built and renovated.
According to his Memorial, when he was healthy, he maintained the house and farmed nearby.
But since his dementia diagnosis, it’s been neglected.
It’s like my late grandma’s house near our family’s land.
“Look at that fire pit.”
There’s a trace of a fire pit used decades ago, with an old pavement block pressed into the ground nearby—that’s the spot.
No shovel.
Mom’s crapmobile trunk has farm tools, but no shovel.
Doesn’t matter.
Boom-boom-boom.
Digging’s easy.
A few punches, and the ground breaks with shockwaves.
“He really buried it.”
A broken jar emerges like a time capsule.
The top, cracked by my punches, holds a photo etched in the old man’s memory.
“2014. 8. 9. With daughters Kyeong-sook, Seon-sook”
I’m not Lee Soon-jae, what’s this about?
Old man talking about Paris and Zermatt?
When a show about taking old folks to Europe aired, 70-something Kim Chang-hwan went with his 50-something daughters’ insistence.
He kept that memory dear, storing the photo from that Europe trip here.
Plus, near a Louvre-bought art card, he scribbled tiny notes.
“Thanks to you, I have memories to smile about before I die.
As you know, your mom and sibling died in an accident, causing much worry.
I hope you never face that. If the world’s peaceful, use this foreign currency to make memories with your kids.
If North Korea invades or the country’s hit by nukes, negotiate with the U.S. military.”
“U.S. military negotiations… pfft, haha, come on, Grandpa. So quirky.”
Look at this old-fashioned font mimicry.
Negotiating with the U.S. military—hilarious.
Feels like the red scare of old-timers.
“He lived hard for his kids.”
Recalling that elderly trip with his daughters, he hoped his grandkids could make memories before working.
Left stacks of euros and dollars for them to travel.
Even added notes for wars or accidents.
High-denomination euros and dollars—big value for small bulk.
Can I really take this?
“If you take back my building from that worse-than-beast guy, I could bury jars like this everywhere for a treasure hunt.”
No way an amnesiac old man imagined this—there’s proof.
“Wait, how much is this? 50,000 euros, 50,000 dollars. Whoa?”
Checked the exchange rate—easily over 100 million won.
This for four rice drinks?
I might actually buy a one-room.
“Uh, uh. That bastard doctor son-in-law!”
Muttered one more line.
“That jerk who stole all of Chang-hwan’s wealth. Crush him, and Grandpa’s rich, I’m rich.”
Decided to brainwash myself.
[Who’re you? Not the runaway master, are you?]
What’s with this cat mimicking Mom’s nagging for being a bit late?
Only my room and 202’s have lights on at night.
I left during the day without turning on the light.
CatMan must’ve jumped to flip it on.
“Nag, and you don’t get this.”
[Hm? What’s that?]
“Sashimi, punk. Black porgy sashimi.”
Drove all night, parked at home, took the last Mugunghwa train back.
Late and hungry, I stopped by a pub near the university selling sashimi.
Among the dying fish under night lights, the black porgy was lively, so I got it.
[You’re not saying it’s for me, right?]
“Yup, for you.”
Meow, meow.
Been a while since CatMan purred with actual voice, showing his belly.
When hungry at night, I’d grit my teeth, thinking of health shows, swearing off late snacks.
Health’s an excuse—no money.
Now?
Got money!
Lots of it!
So? Feed the family waiting at home.
[Oh, you’re back! Time to eat!]
“Yeah, you want that leftover rice from lunch. Give CatMan a few pieces, add some to chili sauce, chop some greens, and mix.”
[Ugh, sashimi rice bowl! Your rice skills outshine mine. I’m just corn…]
“Hey, corn.”
Since RiceCookerMan knows how to say “Kim Jong-un’s a bastard,” I treat him like he’s in reeducation at Hana-won.
Eating sashimi with a big Costco vodka bottle, grabbed an Absolut from the convenience store too.
Nothing beats this.
Chopsticks.
My timing overlaps with CatMan’s black paw grabbing at it.
A cat that uses hands is a hassle.
[Can I eat?]
“Fine. I’ll buy more.”
Didn’t yell at a beast daring to touch human chopsticks—gave him some.
[A pet needs a rich master.]
True that.
Was gonna scold a beast for picking masters, but he’s right.
“Oh, right. You guys eat too.”
A bit tipsy, I poured sugar for rice drinks and otherworld fishing into the gate.
“Sigh, we all do this to survive. Eat this and stay quiet tomorrow.”
The gate feels like family now.
Splashed some vodka too.
Combining the Swordmaster, Guardian Knight, and Sage’s Memorial…
That world didn’t spread sugar or chocolate culture.
They had sugar and chocolate, and the culture was budding, but humanity’s fall made it meaningless.
Before that, their food culture used honey or fructose for sweetness, and monsters loved it, per records.
Tales of luring demons with alcohol existed, like Talmudic myths.
Some used tasty bait to befriend monsters, gaining dark magic affinity and thriving in humanity’s extinction-level wars.
“Yup, it’s tasty! Hehe.”
The Sprout Fairy loves sugar too.
I’ve been pouring sugar water into her pot lately, and she grows fast.
“When it gets dark, I’ll make you a star with this.”
“A star!? How!?”
Gotta make that gacha machine.
Or star candy.
“Hm.”
If I send sugar and alcohol that monsters go crazy for, and they gather near the gate for it…
I’d send cyanide-like white powder to poison them.
Luring with tasty stuff and later poisoning worked great for cockroaches.
Still pissed about King Slime.
After that day, the gate got really quiet.
“Damn it.”
The Nightmare Queen committed slaughter.
“Your Majesty…”
“What do we do!?”
The succubus maids serving the queen covered their mouths, tears welling, at the unfolding chaos.
Her otherworld expedition for marriage hit a snag.
The male demons gathered to marry the Nightmare Queen had little use.
True thousand-level elites didn’t show, and hundreds-level ones were no match.
The only options were sending them to the White Dragon’s nest or through the gate.
But too many fled, fearing the gate’s hundreds-level giant more than the dragon.
The Nightmare Queen considered disbanding them, but a problem arose.
Sweet white powder and mood-lifting liquid started flowing from the gate.
“Too tasty! This is it!”
Monsters freeloading near the Nightmare Queen’s clan gate went wild after tasting it.
As the trickle teased their senses, the male monsters’ unrest grew.
[When will you send it!?]
[Those four weren’t strong.]
[Send us in droves!]
<Gate Utilization>
Without this skill, they needed the queen’s permission to cross.
But sending them would just feed the giant’s level-up.
The tournament’s Octopus King, Indigo Incubus, Cerberus, and King Slime—the Four Heavenly Kings—fell short.
Even the Black Slaughter Sword Demon with Gate Utilization and the late-arriving LV450 Ratman went solo, but no word from them.
No one above 500 exists now.
[We want the gate’s otherworld byproducts, Queen!]
As monsters licked the dirt for dwindling gate scraps, their unrest escalated.
The Nightmare Queen tried to disband them, but…
[She’s monopolizing the gate!]
[Not even conquering, just hogging otherworld resources!]
Dozens, hundreds of hundreds-level monsters rebelled.
The white powder melted their tongues, and the liquid made them euphoric.
The queen tried charming the troublemakers, but some resisted.
When charm worked, some couldn’t control their lust, attacking her lower succubi.
She ended up killing them.
High-levels killing low-levels for levels is a grave crime.
Low-levels don’t lose levels, so punishment’s light.
But the reverse only raised the queen’s level by 1.
Before the green-blooded demon corpses, her clan’s succubi tearfully pleaded.
[You had no choice, Your Majesty. They even targeted us!]
[Flee, Your Majesty!]
[Conquer the gate, and you might be forgiven!]
Their god rarely spared high-levels committing such sins.
To protect her clan and succubus maids, the queen could no longer stay.