Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: The Weighing Ceremony
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Time passed, and after all the children had finished their meals.
A large scale was placed in the center of the competition venue.
Next to it, tubs containing the leftover food from the children were lined up in a row, and staff members were using brushes and ladles to scrape every last bit from the corners to assist with precise weighing.
"Alright, we will now weigh the leftovers from each team."
The rule was simple.
Subtract the weight of the remaining tubs from the total weight of the food initially prepared.
If that ratio didn't exceed 80%—meaning leftovers were more than 20%—they would be eliminated without mercy.
The participants swallowed dryly as they stared at the tubs that had held their food.
Naturally, the first tub to go on the scale was from Meylin's team.
"...0.8%! Pass!"
At that shout, Samuel, Joel, and Meylin hugged each other and jumped for joy.
It was a given result.
The children had even used bread to wipe up the sauce stuck to the tubs.
It was a perfect success, no need to even check the scale again.
The weigh-ins for the other teams followed.
The visually stunning roasted meat log, juicy meatballs, sweet pancakes, and soft tiramisu.
The popular dishes that had received many children's votes passed smoothly.
But not every team could smile.
Apricot pie: 38%. Eliminated.
Fried meat: 27.2%. Eliminated.
The children's tastes were brutally honest.
Dry fried food, overcooked noodles, pies that were too sweet and cloying—they were mercilessly abandoned.
As the eliminations piled up one after another, the atmosphere in the venue grew heavy.
And finally, it was Dave's team's turn.
"Ugh... please..."
Jackson and Emily squeezed their eyes shut and clasped their hands in desperate prayer.
Dave pretended to be nonchalant, but his hands were trembling faintly.
Because inside the tub... there were quite a few small, dark, and rock-hard burnt cookies left.
The tray was placed on the scale, and the needle wavered uncertainly.
An ambiguous amount that made it impossible to tell by eye whether it was a pass or fail.
All eyes from the participants fixed on the needle tip.
The tension was so thick you could hear someone gulping.
And where the wavering needle finally stopped...
"...19.3%! Pass!"
"Gasp...!"
Dave's legs buckled as if they had given out.
Jackson and Emily finally exhaled the breath they'd been holding and patted their chests.
It was truly a razor-thin survival.
I spun the crystal orb while analyzing Dave's survival secret, then chuckled.
'Clever. Still... it's a strategy nonetheless.'
When serving, Dave had placed the well-baked, appetizing cookies on the top of the trays and hidden the hastily baked, hard little ones at the bottom.
The children grabbed the tasty ones from the top, shouted "Yummy!", and unsuspectingly scooped handfuls from the bottom too.
Of course, many took a bite after and spat them out with "Ugh, too hard." But they counted as taken anyway.
Thanks to that, he disposed of a good number of the failed cookies from the latter half, barely scraping over the cutoff line.
"Ha, haha... See? I told you we'd pass if you did as I said."
Dave, drenched in cold sweat, bragged with a laugh, but his teammates' expressions were icy.
Thanks to Dave's stubbornness, they'd been one step from the gates of hell and barely lived.
Thus, the results of the grueling main round 2 were out.
Out of 15 teams, only 6 survived.
27 participants packed their bags and left, while only 18 advanced to the next round.
While the venue was a mess of cheers for survival and tears for elimination.
I headed to the tent behind the stage where the children were gathered.
"Hi, kids. Did you enjoy the meal?"
"Yes! Are you the one who gave us the yummy food, big bro?"
"Yeah, that's me. Wanna chat with me for a bit?"
I conducted short interviews with about a dozen kids I'd picked out in advance.
What food was the tastiest, what they usually ate.
The children glanced curiously at the crystal orb filming them but answered steadily.
And finally, today's star.
Leo sat in the chair.
"What's your name?"
"...Leo."
Leo's eyes were still red-rimmed.
I asked carefully, as gently as possible, avoiding his wounds.
"Can I ask why you cried while eating the pie earlier?"
Leo, eyes still red, haltingly shared his story.
Losing his family to the plague.
The loneliness of being left alone.
And the nostalgic taste he felt in the Cottage Pie.
"...It tasted exactly like what Mom made. So... I missed her..."
Finishing, Leo wiped his tears with his tiny hand.
Sadness is a contagious emotion.
Lucia turned her head away sobbing, and even the burly lighting staff sniffled occasionally.
But I didn't cry.
Instead, I subtly lifted the corner of my mouth and spoke softly to Leo.
"Leo. Starting today, your life is going to change a lot."
"...Huh?"
"You can look forward to it. I promise."
I patted Leo's head and ended the interview.
"How can you be so heartless?"
After the kids left and while cleaning up, Lucia glared at me reproachfully.
"Don't you feel sorry for those poor kids? Hearing stories like that, and all you think is how to use it for footage? And what do you mean 'look forward to it'? You're just giving the kid false hope."
Her eyes were full of disappointment.
But I shrugged nonchalantly.
"I'm sad too. Their stories aren't without pity."
"Liar. You were smiling earlier. Grinning at the thought of making a video out of it..."
"I smiled because I was sure my video would actually help the kids."
Who do you take me for, some cold-blooded monster?
I'm a sensitive guy with a hot heart too.
I just have clear priorities.
"Lucia. Do you think pitying him changes Leo's life? Will a few tears from us here fill the temple kids' bellies?"
"...No, but."
I spoke firmly to Lucia.
"It's way better to actually help once than to pity and cry along a hundred times."
"Help? You?"
"Yeah. I've got plans."
Public service ads from my past life flashed through my mind.
Those that popped up while watching Nutube.
[Your sponsorship saves this child's life.]
Sad background music, close-up of a child's clear eyes, heartfelt narration.
A capitalist system of charity that tugged at guilt and sympathy to open wallets—I planned to spread it in this world.
"People will watch the video and feel sad. They'll think, 'I want to do something for those poor kids.' At that peak emotion, offer an easy, simple path... just a bit of money to become a good person."
I gestured in the air, sketching my plan.
"Mix the kids' stories well into the latter half of the video... then set up donation boxes at stores and theaters."
Even I, a poor grad student, had been made to donate 30,000 won a month by those videos. What effect would they have here?
"No need for huge amounts. Even a fairy or two from many people adds up big. The temple would get flooded with donations. Kids eat tastier meals, wear warm clothes. Temple finances plump up."
I grinned at Lucia.
"That should be plenty as appearance fees for the kids and temple."
Her face went completely blank.
The look of someone hearing an unimaginable plan.
Well, it's an early concept for this world... but spreading good deeds is good, right?
"Just watch. I'll make those kids the most loved in the kingdom."
At my explanation, Lucia's mouth dropped open.
Logic she wanted to refute but couldn't.
She wiggled her lips for a while as if to speak, then burst out laughing and shook her head.
"Ha... seriously, you... I have no idea what kind of person you are."
"Don't fall for me. I'm too busy for romance right now."
"What the heck! Don't say crazy stuff!"
Seeing Lucia recoil, I smiled faintly.
Kids eat their fill, temple gets funds, I get ratings and image, viewers get pleasure and satisfaction from good deeds.
Perfect win-win for everyone, right?
But... something keeps nagging me.
Like I forgot something important.
Just my imagination?
"......"
Del BlackStone, the Court Count, stood in the middle of the venue.
Staring at the empty food tubs.
'All... eaten?'
His son had clearly said so.
That he'd let the participants taste the freshly made dishes.
Especially that Cottage Pie or whatever—its smell was so heavenly that supervising had him drooling like mad.
'Not even a bite left?'
The children were ruthless.
They scraped delicious food clean to the bottom, leaving no share for the overseer.
Plus, the leftovers were packed up generously to be reheated at the temple, so practically nothing edible remained.
"Court Count, sir? Shall we go now? The competition's over."
At the tactless staffer's words, Del BlackStone swallowed his urge to cry and turned away forlornly.
A pathetic gurgle echoed from his stomach.
A few days later, the edited video was released to theaters and taverns across the capital.
The reaction?
What to say.
It exploded.
As expected, I'd anticipated the huge response and expanded temporary theaters in advance, extended screening times so plenty could watch—no issues there.
But I never imagined this video would spark fire in unexpected places.
Well... not my fault, right?