Blackie's Knuckle Sandwich and the Fang Bibimbap Nightmare
So that's what I gotta shove in there, huh? Pii-! Blackie stuck out its tongue and bolted like it was daring me to catch it. Seeing that sparked something inside me.
What? "Haa— "……You little shit, get back here?!"
What else? Rage, obviously. I chased after Blackie as it darted into the room. In this tiny apartment, there weren't many places to run. Provoking me here meant it was begging for a funeral today.
"Fine. I was gonna make some bibimbap anyway… you're done for."
I headed inside to hunt for Blackie. It had vanished into some crack or crevice. I didn't rush. Instead, I slowly approached the window.
"Manners maketh man—"
Click. I sealed off the only escape route in this place. And then.
Pip, pii-?
I spotted Blackie peeking through the half-open storage cabinet door. What a pathetic hiding spot.
"Suuup… where'd it go?"
I pretended not to notice. In horror scenes like this, you always miss the obvious once—it's the rule. From Blackie's perspective, anyway.
Pii—!
Thinking I'd really lost it, Blackie patted its chest in relief. Now was the moment.
Screeech— "Here's Johnny~?"
Pip, piii—?!
My face suddenly looming close made Blackie freak out and topple over. Pathetic. I reached into the open cabinet and scooped up the fallen slime.
"Alright, Blackie, repeat after me. Thou— sand—"
Pip, pip?
Aigoo, it couldn't even mimic something this simple. Poor thing. I flashed a kind smile and hoisted Blackie high.
And then. "Try again! Thou— sand—!!!"
Bonk— Piiik-!
I knuckle-rapped its forehead hard— not full power, but enough to sting. …Hmm, maybe a bit too hard? Nah, it'll be fine.
"Did you do good or not?"
Piiiing!! Haha, Blackie must be tired; it's not getting it. But that's okay. The ammo's always loaded.
Bonk— Pip— "Answer me."
After the second knuckle-rap, Blackie finally bowed its head. Pip… See? Adults are never wrong. Spankings work best on disobedient kids.
I set down the drooping Blackie and petted it. Classic carrot-and-stick.
"No more of that next time, got it?"
Blackie nodded. Seeing it obey so well was soothing. I figured it'd resist to the end, but it had a soft side after all.
With both of them calmed(?) down, I returned to the kitchen.
"Uh… what was I doing again?"
I made it back, but chasing those two had fried my brain—I forgot my original plan. Multitasking was never my strong suit anyway.
I rubbed my chin, pondering. That's when it hit me: a creepy sensation, like my wallet was bleeding out. I turned toward it.
My bag caught my eye.
"Oh… right, fuck, the spring onions!"
I bolted to the bag. Nearly tripped and rolled, but for the gold onions, that was nothing.
I ripped open the bag like Dornröschen's gaze. Zippers rasped, and Moses parted the contents.
"Kkh— sorry, goldie… this mo—mom? Dad? Whatever, I won't leave you alone next time—"
Whew, just a bit later and it would've been over. Luckily—thank fuck—the spring onions hadn't rotted. The temp difference between gate outside and inside had kept the ice pack viable.
I pulled them out before more delay. Checked again—no spoilage. Relief.
"Lemme see the recipe…"
I set the spring onions in the sink and pulled up the recipe window.
Centipede Fang Spring Onion Bibimbap
1. Wash the spring onions, chop into bite-sized pieces, and lightly marinate with sesame oil, minced garlic, chili powder, and a pinch of salt or soy sauce.
2. Mix in the centipede fangs to the prepared spring onion banchan.
3. Pile the "spring onion banchan with centipede fangs" over rice and mix well.
4. Finally, sprinkle 60g mana stone powder (essential) and sesame seeds (optional).
I grabbed the stored fangs and prepped rice. Seasonings were leftovers from home.
"Ugh, I really don't wanna make this, tsk—"
Ingredients ready, but god, I hated it. The mental image was already turning my stomach—no way my hands would move.
But no choice. Rewards were breathing down my neck like a knife to the throat.
I scanned the recipe again for anything missing. Inner grumbling persisted, but I swallowed it. Grabbed a basin from the bathroom.
Swish— Disinfected it with Cleansing and Holy Endowment.
Unwrapped and washed the spring onions. Fresh and green—good buy.
"Where's the knife?"
My main one broke ages ago. Rifled the shelf for the spare.
But what greeted me wasn't a kitchen knife.
"…Adorable as fuck."
A tiny paring knife.
"I swear I left the spare here?"
Where'd the backup go? It didn't grow legs and walk out.
"Haa…."
Sighing at the paring knife. "Gotta buy a new one later."
Daiso rose knife or whatever. For now, chopped the washed onions into bites. Dumped them in the basin.
Perfect mouthful size. Took time with the tiny knife, but satisfied.
After dumping:
"Sesame oil…"
Found it deep in the shelf. Other seasonings in the sink cabinet.
Glug-glug— Poured in the sauces.
Looking decent now. I mixed with mild satisfaction—when.
Pii…?
"…What?"
While prepping the banchan, a white blob was climbing onto the sink. Whitey.
"What're you doing up here?"
Why the sudden sink invasion? I eyed it questioningly; curious eyes stared back.
"Oh yeah, I haven't cooked once since you two joined, huh?"
Pii…?
True—zero cooking memories post-slimes. Made sense now.
"Wanna taste?"
Pii-!
"…And what're you?"
The question for Whitey got answered from elsewhere. Turned to see Blackie, eyes sparkling even brighter.
"You want some too?"
Blackie nodded furiously.
"Not bad for free tasters."
No fangs yet—perfect for rating plain spring onions. Picked decent chunks and split for them.
Pip…! Pii—?
They clutched the pieces neatly. Inspecting like kids with new toys. Cute.
Crunch—
As I watched fondly, Whitey chomped big.
Piiik…?!
Its eyes bulged fish-like. Then.
Piiiiii…!!!
Mouth agape, it dashed around the sink.
"What's with you?"
No warning, just panic-running. Watched closely: fanning its mouth, teary face.
"You spicy-sensitive?"
Classic spice reaction. But I didn't make it that hot? Slimes weak to spice maybe.
But nah—
Munch-munch— Piing?
Blackie devoured it fine.
"Aha— Whitey, you're the spice wimp, huh?"
Meaning: Whitey was spice-intolerant.
My words halted its sprint. Pip, pii…! Defiant face, like "No I'm not."
Crunch— "Ooh—"
Proving it, big bite. Result: same.
Pip, piiiiing…!
Tears and snot everywhere.
"Aigoo, drink water."
Pip…
Whitey gulped the water desperately. Finally looked alive. Blackie laughed at it, like "Can't handle that?"
"Hey, quit it—you'll fight again."
They'd grab hair soon. No more of that; I stopped Blackie and pointed to the room.
Pip…. Don't pout, idiot. Moderation in fights.
Confirmed they went inside, then back to onions. Success—they didn't spit it out. Bit spicy, but.
Gazing at the finished banchan, a thought hit.
"Whoa— fuck! Now gotta add the fangs!!"
Really fucking hated this. Ruining my work with my own hands? The incoming hell-scape already had me thrilled.