“Hungry, huh? Just wait a moment. No, wait…”
Sang-woong started heading to the restaurant to fetch ingredients but suddenly stopped.
He calculated the time in his head.
Even rushing, it would take at least two hours in dungeon time, and seeing the exhausted, hungry eyes of the Afua Tribe, he couldn’t make them wait that long.
He turned and headed toward the field by the stream.
Among the mud, vibrant sweet potato roots caught his eye.
Digging with his fingers, the cool scent of earth brushed his nose.
They’re not fully grown, but now’s not the time to be picky.
Sang-woong carefully harvested the sweet potatoes.
Having recently harvested, the remaining yield was less than expected.
The Afua Tribe’s gazes converged on the basket of sweet potatoes in his hands.
Their curious eyes sparkled.
As a tribe specialized in farming, their interest in his crops was exceptional.
Harkey spoke first, his voice a mix of curiosity and respect.
“What’s that, hua?”
“Sweet potatoes,” Sang-woong replied with a smile.
“When steamed or roasted, they melt in your mouth with a sweet flavor. There’s not much, but let’s ease your hunger with these for now.”
“Really? Can we eat them, hua?” Harkey’s eyes widened in disbelief.
He was touched by Sang-woong’s kindness in offering such precious food to strangers.
“Of course. Eat and rest. I need to step out for a bit.”
Sang-woong hurried to the restaurant.
He returned with all the ingredients he had.
The Afua Tribe, having eaten the sweet potatoes, looked slightly revitalized despite the small amount.
“Sweet potatoes are delicious. Thank you for sharing precious food, hua!” Harkey said, representing the group.
“Feeding my people is only natural. Was it enough? I brought food for a meal.”
As Sang-woong pulled rice, side dishes, and meat from his inventory, the Afua Tribe’s eyes widened again.
“The Master of the Land is a magician, hua!” someone whispered in awe.
“I’ve never heard of such magic, hua!” another added.
“Is the Master of the Land a messenger of the gods, hua?” Harkey’s voice trembled.
The intense gazes made Sang-woong’s face flush.
Even after living over 50 years in his past life, such reverent attention still flustered him.
He quickly changed the subject.
“This is rice, a grain cooked in water.”
He explained how to cook rice by boiling it with the right amount of water.
His every word sounded like sacred teachings to the Afua Tribe.
“Side dishes make rice tastier, meat is grilled over fire, and vegetables…”
Sang-woong paused, looking around.
The dungeon lacked proper cooking tools or seasonings.
His concern must have shown, as Harkey stepped forward.
“Can we handle it, hua?”
Relieved, Sang-woong sighed.
The Afua Tribe sprang into action.
Some quickly built a fire, while others began cooking in earnest.
They clumsily followed Sang-woong’s rice-cooking instructions, preparing food in their own way.
But their cooking skills made him uneasy.
Their amateurish efforts resembled children playing with mud, raising his concerns.
“Let’s eat together, hua!” Harkey invited with a bright smile once the food was ready.
Reluctantly, Sang-woong sat politely, unable to refuse their heartfelt effort.
The Afua Tribe presented rice in their largest bowl with reverence.
“Thank you.”
Taking the bowl, Sang-woong sighed inwardly.
The contents were too soggy to be rice, too thick to be porridge—a shapeless white mass.
It’s their first try, so this is impressive enough.
Consoling himself, he took a bite.
His expression subtly changed—eyes widening, lips curling slightly.
“What the… It’s actually good!”
In disbelief, he took another spoonful.
This unidentified, undercooked rice-like substance was surprisingly delicious.
“How can this be good? Is there some Afua Tribe secret touch?”
Questions swirled in his mind.
As if answering, a message appeared.
- You’ve eaten rice cooked with stream water. The rice tastes better, and your vitality increases. –
“Rice cooked with stream water tastes better and boosts vitality?”
Sang-woong paused his spoon in astonishment.
The water had effects too.
He had never drunk the stream water.
Though clear, his modern sensibilities hesitated to drink natural water.
The enhanced flavor was surprising, but “vitality” echoed in his mind.
The driving force of life, the energy and strength needed to live.
After finishing the bowl, a warm energy spread through him.
His shoulders felt lighter, his mind clearer, his heart beating stronger.
“This is incredible.”
He wasn’t alone in his awe.
The Afua Tribe froze upon tasting the rice.
They opened their mouths and widened their eyes in unison.
After a brief silence, their faces flushed, and they began trembling.
Then, an explosive roar erupted.
“HUAAAA!”
The sound, like a dragon’s breath, shook Sang-woong’s ears and echoed deep into the dungeon.
“Hahaha!”
Their pure emotional outburst infected him, filling him with joy.
“What else tastes this good?”
Excited, he cautiously tried their vegetable soup.
But then—
“Ugh!”
He instinctively grimaced.
The taste was beyond imagination.
A burnt plastic stench, a tongue-numbing bitterness, and a bland emptiness assaulted him.
It was the worst food he’d ever tasted.
Forcing it down to avoid embarrassing them, he understood their cooking.
Beginners couldn’t make tasty food.
Even the mystical stream water couldn’t save this culinary disaster.
The rice was close to tasteless, so the stream water’s effect was strong. But this intense dish? No help from the water.
As he pondered the stream water, an even louder roar erupted.
“HUAAAAA!”
Startled, he nearly dropped his spoon, his heart leaping to his throat.
While Sang-woong struggled with the vegetable soup, the Afua Tribe was tasting his side dishes.
Earth’s seasoned dishes opened a shocking world of flavor.
Their reaction was expected.
After a lifetime of eating their disastrous food, the rice cooked with stream water and seasoned side dishes were a revelation.
It was like seeing color after living in a black-and-white world.
After the meal, the Afua Tribe’s gazes toward Sang-woong had transformed.
From simple fondness to profound reverence, as if looking at a deity.
The children, especially, approached with clasped hands, gazing at him with sparkling eyes.
Their overwhelming respect felt like they’d chase a stick he threw blindly.
Sang-woong could only scratch his head awkwardly.
Such gazes still flustered him.
“Boss, what’s going on? Your business is booming too much. Got a secret bunker or something? That doesn’t even make sense.”
Kim, the supplier, couldn’t hold back his curiosity.
His eyes alternated between suspicion and intrigue.
No wonder—Sang-woong’s daily ingredient orders exceeded those of five mid-sized restaurants combined.
At first, Kim thought the restaurant had hit it big.
But as the massive orders continued daily, his curiosity turned to suspicion.
The Afua Tribe numbered exactly 107.
With the dungeon’s time flowing nearly ten times faster than Earth’s, Sang-woong had to prepare ten days’ worth of food daily.
Hence the massive orders.
“Hahaha.”
Sang-woong responded with an awkward laugh to Kim’s sharp question.
If he said, “A dungeon gate opened in my restaurant, I have land there, and 107 Afua Tribe members live on it,” Kim might drag him to a mental hospital.
Sensing the mood, Kim didn’t pry further.
Upsetting a major client was the worst choice for a businessman.
He silently filled out the order form, changing the subject.
After Kim left, Sang-woong meticulously packed ingredients into his inventory.
With each item stored, his heart lightened slightly.
After preparing, he stood before a mirror, carefully washing his face, as if performing a ritual.
Since some time ago, he had developed a habit of checking the mirror before entering the dungeon.
With the dungeon’s time included, he was living an incredibly long life.
Naturally, he should age faster.
He worried about how to handle this.
“Should I visit a dermatologist regularly?”
Daily mirror checks led him to notice something odd.
Despite spending so much time in the dungeon, his appearance hadn’t changed significantly.
“Maybe ageing doesn’t happen so fast that I’d notice. Or since I see my face daily, I miss the changes.”
Still, the lack of change was puzzling.
After much thought, he had an idea.
He decided to grow his hair.
If ageing was progressing, his hair would grow faster.