Tteok Sun-i's Elegant Entrance
“Uwaaaah!”
Whiiing! Clank! Clank! Click!
He barely managed to slip out of the encirclement, but the enemies' pale blue eyes lit up fiercely as they kept chasing after him relentlessly. Those eyes, glowing like car headlights, were utterly emotionless and hollow. And their movements were downright grotesque. Some limped along, others charged on all fours like dogs, some leaped like deer, and there were even ones that scraped across the ground heedlessly, as if their bodies breaking apart meant nothing.
“Ugh! Stop following us!”
He circled around the vast open lot littered with massive machine corpses like a graveyard. But he couldn't keep running forever—his damn stamina was already hitting its limit.
“Huff—huff—they don't even get tired?”
“They're machines, Master.”
Geum Taeyang responded calmly to what was more of a grumble to himself. This guy had been made to run alongside the carriage all the way to Shin-dong Village, so he was still full of energy.
“I know that?”
“I thought you didn't.”
“……”
He glanced back. Thanks to all the circling, they were now strung out in a line, trailing obediently behind. Squeak! Squeak! Of course, they weren't the type to keep perfect order—plenty of shoving and overtaking was going on.
Still, there was a decent gap between first and second place. This could work.
“Geum Taeyang!”
“Yes, Master.”
“We're fighting back!”
“Understood.”
They both spun around to face the first pursuer.
“Geum Taeyang, same as before. You block, I attack. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Time was tight. No time for slow-cooking with the frying pan like last time. One clean sword slash to end it. He pulled a sword from his inventory.
“Incoming!”
“Yes!”
The lead enemy, in its frenzy, yanked off its own opposite arm and swung it like a weapon. Clang! Clang! Geum Taeyang blocked with his fried egg shield. Now!
“Hyah!”
With a mighty shout, he swung the sword. Slash it. One hit, done!
Enemy stunned by Moonlight Frying Pan effect.
“Huh?”
Clang!
“……”
He stared blankly at what was left of the sword—just the hilt, blade gone. What the hell was that tough?
“Son of a—”
Geum Taeyang shouted urgently.
“Master! They're coming!”
Second place and the rest were closing in noisily. He tossed the hilt away and reached out, yelling.
“Summon!”
A perfectly satisfying grip filled his hand. Ever swung a frying pan with all your might? Incredibly refreshing. More than he'd imagined—way more. Even in this desperate moment, a smile tugged at his lips.
With the utmost satisfying grin, he bashed the enemy's head.
“Take this, you bastard!”
Kang!
A crisp sound rang out.
Cooking Throw
Tteokbokki: Enemies afflicted with Bleeding status. (Bleeding: HP drains gradually.)
“Push!”
“Yes!”
He shoved it into the ones behind, knocking them down. Then he quickly scooped the remaining tteokbokki onto the frying pan and hurled it at the confused foes clogging the path.
“Cooking Throw!”
Cooking Throw
Tteokbokki: Enemies afflicted with Bleeding status. (Bleeding: HP drains gradually.)
“Good! Run again!”
“Yes!”
Glancing back while fleeing, the enemies were still chasing, covered in tteokbokki. If anything, faster now.
“...Not much effect?”
“Seems that way.”
“Plan B then. Taeyang!”
“Yes, Master. Your orders.”
He checked Geum Taeyang's condition.
“You're still good on stamina?”
“Of course.”
“Keep running then. I'll stealth and pick off the stragglers one by one.”
“Understood.”
Geum Taeyang nodded reliably.
“Stealth.”
Activating the ring's skill, he split off from Taeyang and headed for the limping one at the rear. But something was off with their eyes. Static crackled, and they turned red.
“Huh?”
They stared straight at his stealthed form. His hair stood on end, chills running down his spine.
“No way…”
Screech! Thud! Thud! Clack!
They ignored Taeyang, turning toward him.
“Heyyy! That's too much!!”
The chase resumed. But with his stamina already drained, he soon collapsed, gasping.
“Hieeek—hieeek—”
His breath whistled, lungs burning. Thud! Thud! They pounded Geum Taeyang's shield.
“Master! You okay?!”
“Heeek—heeeek—”
No strength to speak. They were quickly surrounded. Geum Taeyang blocked confidently.
“Don't worry, Master. I'll handle th—”
Screech—clank—thud!
“Urk.”
A blow pierced the defense, dropping Taeyang limply.
“You bastard!”
Geum Taeyang sprang up.
“Momentary lapse. No big—”
Clack—screech—ching—thud!
“Urk.”
He fell again, and they mobbed him like they had done to the others. Ignoring Hura, they focused on Taeyang.
“Huff—huff—you jerks! Back off!”
He staggered up, swinging the frying pan, but they ignored him.
“Urk. Urk.”
Taeyang curled fetal, enduring.
What now? What to do? Then, a chime in his ear.
You can now summon a new Cooking Summon.
His eyes lit up. What cooking did he have left? He checked his inventory quickly. No kimchi fried rice—all shared. But some tteokbokki remained. He scooped it onto the frying pan and hurled it over the mob beating Taeyang.
“Cooking Summon!”
Cooking Summon: 'Tteokbokki' summoned.
Fwaaah—a pure white glow burst in the air. A soft voice echoed from within.
“Spiciness level, stage 0. Mild.”
The light faded, and a woman descended gracefully from midair. Pure white all over. Snow-white hair like eyes, pristine white suit. Unlike Taeyang, even her skin was ghostly pale. In her hand, a thin white thread.
While the machines were dazed by the white light, Taeyang shoved them off, raised his shield high, and she landed lightly atop the fried egg shield.
She murmured again.
“Spiciness level, stage 1. Mildly spicy.”
Then she began to redden. Her white hair tips turned red first, the suit's hems and sleeves followed. The thin thread gained a red hue, and her pale eyes bled into crimson like spilled paint.
With eyes spreading red aura, she stared straight at him.
“Master. Step back.”
“Uh, yeah! Got it!”
Guessing her intent, he dove backward. Now patchy red, she spun like a top on the upheld shield—like dancing, ballet, a figure skater's triple axel. Elegantly. Proudly, like a swan.
Swish—the red thread flashed, and the machines trampling Taeyang froze.
An unexpected silence fell.
“...What?”
Then—
Slice—crash—clang—boom!
They collapsed, cross-sections neatly severed.
“Whoa…”
Incredible power, impossibly elegant dance. But she, atop the shield, closed her eyes as if it were nothing.
“Spiciness level, stage 0. Mild.”
The red aura vanished like mist, reverting her to snow-white princess. Like a ballerina after a performance.
Clap clap clap—he applauded, and she bowed gracefully like Dahyun had, but far more elegantly. Sorry, Dahyun, but this was leagues better.
She hopped down from the shield—graceful as a swan even in descent—
“Eek.”
Thud!—until she tripped on machine debris, tumbling comically.
“……”
Why do they all have one screw loose? He approached, offering a hand.
“...You okay?”
She looked up.
“Master.”
“Yeah.”
“Sprained my ankle.”
“……”
* * *
She ended up piggybacked on Taeyang. He watched the pair fondly.
They match perfectly. One has zero attack but tanky as hell, the other glass cannon with killer offense but trips on landings.
As the trio wandered searching for the entrance, she spoke.
“Master.”
“Yeah?”
“What's my name?”
Name the summon 'Tteokbokki'.
Right, name time. About to toss out something casual—
Geum Taeyang grinned at his junior.
“Master has a heavenly talent for naming. A god of nomenclature, really.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Expect great things.”
“……”
They stared expectantly.
“Ahem... uh, well... give me a sec to think—”
“Master probably has the perfect name ready. He's always carried you around, after all.”
“Gasp. Really, Master?”
She clasped her chest, moved.
“...Y-yeah, obviously…”
“An honor, Master. As your second summon, to know you kept me in mind. I'll serve you with my life.”
“...Sure.”
Whatever now.
“So, what is it?”
Sparkly eyes. Sparkly eyes. That pressure from Geum Taeyang's hype.
He swallowed.
“You're…”
“Yes! I'm ready!”
“You're... you're, uh…”
“Listening, Master!”
“You're... Tteoksoon-i.”
“……”
“………”
“Or Reddie?”
“...Tteoksoon-i it is.”
Summon 'Tteoksoon-i (Tteokbokki)' registered.
-Current summonable dishes: 'Geum Taeyang (Fried Egg)', 'Tteoksoon-i (Tteokbokki)'.
-Raise skill level for more summons.
“……”
That disappointed look stung.
“Ahh! Time flies?”
He faked checking his bare wrist dramatically.
“Haha, already this late. See you later.”
He logged out, fleeing.
* * *
Early morning. The sun shyly peeked out. Sera, baseball cap pulled low, looked up at a villa.
“Hmm... sunny enough? Not south-facing…”
Truth was, Sera and their parents were secretly running the 'Hura Independence Project'—aka 'Hura New Man Project.' It aimed to shake off his laziness, reflect on the past, and stride toward the future self-driven.
To Sera, Hura was just her adorable little bro. But parents fretted: no drive, no passions, no interests, wasting time.
Sera offered to support him, but got scolded. You're too soft—that's why!
“I've got money... just live with me. I could get way better than this dump…”
Sera grumbled at the rundown villa. Since Hura's independence, she saw him less. For the project, she didn't even know his address.
She made do with occasional calls, but dropped everything when he visited home.
“Stupid project.”
Parents launched it 'for his sake,' roping her in. Nitpicking to force independence, with rent and deposit as controls. But Hura paid the deposit early—emergency!
Sera was dispatched to investigate.
Slide—the villa door opened.
“Gah—”
Sera ducked behind a pillar. The figure hurried off somewhere.
That gait. Familiar.
Peeking out, she tracked him. Back view only, but instant recognition.
Hura! Her one and only brother. Nearly rushed him, but pinched her thigh, holding back.
No. Endure. For Hura.
Sera readjusted her cap and tailed quietly.