A Demon Prince's BBQ
Dirke Village in the Demon Realm. It was a remote outpost even among backwaters, home to just thirty low demons. And a bunch of magical beasts besides. The only upside—if you could call it that—was the surprisingly vast expanse of barren land.
But what good was size? The soil here was far more barren than anywhere else, barely enough to sustain even the hardiest demon grass. That explained why the beasts and low demons were so few in number.
This worthless fringe territory was under the management of the Demon Realm's Seventh Demon Prince, Azid Devil.
Not that there was much managing to do. You needed something to manage first. So Azid had spent his days killing time with nothing to occupy him.
With the lord not lifting a finger, the territory drifted along in perfect, uneventful quiet.
Until today.
Sizzle—
In a forgotten corner of Dirke Village, an unusual scene was unfolding.
Sizzle—Gulp!
Azid was grilling meat over the fire pit Han Ji-woo had left behind. He flipped a thick slab of beef tenderloin with his bare hands, no tongs needed. Flames roared below, but he showed no sign of feeling the heat.
Then again, it would be ridiculous for a demon prince to get burned by a mere campfire.
As the beef cooked, its red flesh gradually turned brown. The surface crisped to perfection, releasing an intoxicating, nutty aroma.
"And now, salt."
Snowflake-like grains sparkled as they fell onto the searing meat.
Thirty low demons stood in a circle, watching their prince grill with rapt attention.
Gulp!Gulp!
The savory scent wafted everywhere, making their mouths water en masse. Azid ignored them completely, focused solely on the steak.
Han Ji-woo had instructed him: For beef tenderloin, aim for pink inside—that's when it's best.
Azid summoned demonic energy to slice the edge. Perfect pink flesh gleamed within.
"Done."
Grinning, he tore into the finished steak with a massive bite.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.Gulp!
"Ahhh...!"
Azid let out a satisfied moan. The lean tenderloin melted like cotton candy—soft and tender. Juices burst forth in a glorious flood, and the salt tied it all together perfectly. Pure bliss.
Eyes rolling back in ecstasy, he ripped off another huge chunk.
"What's that?"
Astaroth had appeared at his side, asking casually.
Crunch. Crunch.Gulp!
"Not sharing, back off."
Azid shielded the meat like a thief spotting a cop.
A vein bulged on Astaroth's smooth forehead.
"Who said anything about stealing? I don't even care what you're eating. Just making polite conversation."
She protested her innocence, but Azid kept devouring the steak warily.
Chew. Chew.Gulp!Crunch. Crunch.Gulp!
Watching him eat so rapturously, Astaroth's throat bobbed involuntarily.
Gulp.
It was bizarre. She had zero interest in gourmet food. Most demons were the same—eating was just survival, nothing more.
So why was she salivating at the sight of her prince's meal?
'What the hell kind of meat is that?'
It sure wasn't from a beast or low demon. Those were rubbery, foul-smelling, and tough.
This meat? Crispy brown outside, soft pink inside, with a mouthwatering aroma.
"Lord Azid. Not trying to steal, just pure curiosity—what is that meat?"
Gulp!
"Beef."
"Beef? Isn't that only from the Mid-Realm? How'd you get it in the Demon Realm?"
She demanded answers, but Azid finished the last piece and started on a fresh slab.
Only then did Astaroth notice the four fire pits.
"And what's with these?"
Questions piled up, but the mad prince ignored her, focused on grilling.
This cut was pork belly! If tenderloin melted in ecstasy, pork belly offered chewy delight with even richer juices.
Siiiizzle—
Staring at it cook, Astaroth's mouth flooded with saliva.
She'd come to relay the Demon King's orders: War was coming; all princes must prepare.
But now, unbeknownst to herself, the beef was clouding her mind.
"Done."
Azid tore into the pork belly. Another flawless success.
Astaroth agonized: Should I ask for just one bite...?
Right then—
"Here, try some."
Azid offered the rest without hesitation.
"Really...? I can?"
"Yeah."
"Not that I want any, but since you're offering, I won't refuse."
She took it, popped the whole piece in her mouth, and chewed.
Chew chew.Gulp!
Her reaction was exactly as Azid predicted.
"...Got any more?"
Astaroth looked on the verge of tears.
Azid grinned. "Know what this tastes like?"
"Beef, so... cow?"
"Tastes like saving the Demon Realm."
It could've ended coolly there.
"No idea what that means. More beef?"
"You losing it too?"
Now Astaroth was hooked.
[A bright day dawned.]
[Sky without a single cloud.]
[Sun blazing especially fierce.]
[The horse that fled its master's eyes.]
[Finally savors true freedom today.]
[A bright day dawned.]
[Sky without a single cloud.]
[Sun blazing especially fierce.]
[The horse that fled its master's eyes.]
[Finally savors true freedom today.]
Han Ji-woo displayed the poem from the message log.
Weird as ever. And no need to output a typing error poem like this, line by line.
He scanned it quickly several times, then read the first letters down the lines, just in case.
'Day. Cloudless. Sun. Horse. Master. Save me, please?'
Then the poem vanished.
He checked the message log again—everything else was there, but that poem was gone.
'What the hell?'
He wanted to demand answers, but something felt off about speaking up.
Too many loose ends here. He had no idea who was typing the messages, but they'd made minor slips before.
This was major. Not a typo or sigh—an entire line of raw thoughts dumped in.
Things got weird from there. Could someone this sloppy manage messages?
When pressed, they blamed a cat on the keyboard, recited a poem, and went silent.
And now, the moment Han Ji-woo spotted the acrostic SOS, the poem deleted itself.
'Did they fake the mistakes on purpose?'
Assume the mystery typer was kidnapped by the Creator, forced into this unwanted job. They couldn't reveal themselves outright.
Then along comes mutant Han Ji-woo, rewriting history. Fresh moves, unpredictable, highest clear chance of any hero.
Maybe the typer slipped an SOS just for him?
'Just a theory.'
Not impossible. Problem: No way to help yet.
'Wait. If so, the typer... knows everything. Yeah, let's call 'em Troll.'
Troll. Internet term for haters spewing negativity.
From their slip: [lololol Han Ji-woo that punk is wild]
Still in the log. Hence, Troll.
'Troll knows all about Hidden Space, right?'
Else how could they comment from day one? Even dungeon guards can't casually peek here.
He wanted to ask directly, but...
'Play it safe.'
Troll's subtle SOS meant no rash moves. And whose side were they on? Could be a trap.
His head spun with possibilities.
"Siiiighhh."
Suddenly, Ferrofero let out a massive sigh.
Han Ji-woo looked over. His gaze was on chubby Seibier playing with Lucy.
"What's up now? Seeing our innocent princess makes you worry how she'll survive this cruel world?"
Ferrofero shook his head.
"No, sir. I just don't know how much life I have left. It's suffocating."
"Huh? Outta nowhere? What're you on about?"
"As I said, I paid dearly in lives at the admin shop. At best, five years. Worst case, tomorrow. I must guard Her Highness forever, but if I can't..."
"Hey, hey."
Han Ji-woo cut him off.
"Why, sir?"
"You didn't know? Pets here stop aging."
"...W-what do you mean, sir?"
"Exactly what I said. You!"
Han Ji-woo's hands grabbed Ferrofero's cheeks, squishing the pudgy, soft face into ugliness.
"No dying unless major injury. I've been skipping Growth Acceleration on you and Pao daily. Didn't want you aging out early."
"S-so... I won't age? Won't die?"
"Yep."
"I can guard Her Highness forever?"
"Yeah."
"Ugh... snff. Waaahhh!"
Ferrofero burst into tears, face crumpling, snot streaming. Han Ji-woo chuckled.
"Aigoo~ You dummy. Crying makes you even uglier."
"I'm so relieved, sir. Truly!"
Ferrofero buried his face in his master's chest, sobbing like a child. Han Ji-woo patted his back gently.