The Heavenly Demon Came to Visit (4)
From Baek Hwaryeong's perspective, this was nothing short of a shock. She was hardly the leader of some insignificant little group. No matter how isolated the Heavenly Demon Cult kept itself from the outside world, its scale rivaled that of any major faction. Even though she never indulged in luxury, her position had inevitably exposed her to the finest delicacies. She had once tasted every precious dish prepared by a chef who had served in the imperial palace itself, and she took pride in possessing an exceptionally discerning palate. That was precisely why she had looked so reluctant when the suggestion to go out for food was made. She had assumed there was no chance she could be satisfied by mere street fare. None of the dishes she had tried during her previous excursions into the Murim had pleased her, so how could a mere decade or so have changed anything? But that was Baek Hwaryeong's misconception. Ten years was an immense stretch of time—long enough for dozens of new sects to rise and fall. It was more than enough to completely overturn everything she had once taken for common sense.
“Ara, dear. Standing there blocks the way.”
Only after hearing those words did Baek Hwaryeong snap back to her senses. She allowed herself to be led by the hand to a chair before speaking again.
“What exactly happened in the Murim over these past ten-plus years?”
To an outsider, the question would have sounded as grave as if she were asking whether the entire Murim had been destroyed. In truth, it was simply asking why the food had advanced so dramatically.
“What a foolish question. If there is one thing capable of bringing change to the Murim, is there anything else it could be?”
Perhaps amused by the pathetic sight of the country bumpkin version of Baek Hwaryeong, Baru—who had done nothing but complain about her existence until now—spoke to her directly for the first time.
“...Outsiders. Yes. Those fellows were strangely obsessed with food culture.”
As the leader of the Heavenly Demon Cult, Baek Hwaryeong had absorbed information about worldly trends whether she wanted to or not. Among that information were reports about the outsiders who had suddenly appeared in their world. They showed an unusual degree of interest in securing food ingredients. They scoured every corner of the land for ingredients, contracted farms to cultivate them, and eventually opened restaurants everywhere to sell the dishes they created.
But the Heavenly Demon Cult had paid them no mind. Their concerns had been limited to the movements of the various Murim factions and how to further elevate the prestige of their own order. Besides, no matter how hard the outsiders tried to advance food culture, there was no way dishes made by people with neither foundation nor proper backing could possibly surpass the Cult’s own cuisine. Or so they had arrogantly assumed. The outsiders’ knowledge of food had far exceeded anything the Cult had anticipated. Enough to achieve this level of development in merely a decade.
“Did the Cult’s closed nature hinder its progress?”
“Save those worries for later and just pick what you want to eat.”
Baek Hwaryeong accepted the menu Baru handed over with oddly high spirits and felt a wave of bewilderment at the dozen or so items listed. Just how many varieties were there?
Yubu sushi. Fried yubu. Braised yubu. Yubu. Yubu. Yubu.
“You want me to choose just one of these?”
With no detailed descriptions, guessing from the names alone was an arduous task for Baek Hwaryeong. Still, judging from the taste of the yubu she had just eaten, every item listed here promised to be exceptional.
“Order anything that catches your eye.”
She had been studying the menu as intently as if deciphering a difficult martial arts manual. At those words, Baek Hwaryeong’s head shot up.
“Is that truly permitted?”
“It is.”
“Then let us order everything written here.”
A bright, innocent smile spread across her face—one far too pure for someone called the Heavenly Demon, a title that struck fear into the hearts of all who walked the Murim.
After the server took her order—which spanned every item from top to bottom—Baek Hwaryeong rested her chin on her hand with a faint, pleased smile, as if she were thoroughly enjoying the wait. The way her fingers tapped rhythmically against the table revealed just how much she was savoring this moment.
This kid Hwaryeong was even more thoroughly drained of her former venom than I had imagined. The version of me from that era would never have been this soft. Was it the fundamental difference in our natures? Or had her disciple, Han Seo-woo, brought about that much change? Either way, it was pleasant to see. If she had kept a sullen expression and puffed away on a pipe no matter how enjoyable things were, like I used to, I would have had no desire to buy her food.
“Ara.”
At Baru’s call, I glanced over.
“What is it?”
“The price will likely be considerable. Did you bring sufficient funds?”
“Of course.”
After all, I had received compensation related to the Murim Alliance’s recent attack. Regardless of how things had progressed internally, on the surface we had been the victims of the Alliance’s underhanded assault. In other words, we held the advantage in justification. On top of that, I had personally crushed the Murim Alliance last time, proving our superiority in raw power as well. In the Murim, once you hold the upper hand in both strength and justification, it is common sense that you can demand whatever you wish.
Well. I was not so ruthless as to strip them completely bare, so I had observed a reasonable line. Still, I had taken quite a hefty sum. Thanks to that, even after allocating half to Mount Hua’s operating costs and repaying the debt I owed Harin, a considerable amount still remained in my wallet. Ordering food at a place like this posed no problem whatsoever.
“You always claimed you had no money. So you have finally escaped poverty.”
“What do you mean, what did I do? I simply set limits when choosing the menu at restaurants.”
Until recently I had done nothing but fight, never earning money in any proper sense. With nothing to my name, it was only natural that my spending had limits.
“Now I won’t have to hear ‘this isn’t allowed’ or ‘that isn’t allowed.’”
As Baru spoke with the air of reminiscing about past poverty, the chat exploded.
“Who are you calling mom? Who?”
I have never had a daughter like that. Besides, Baru had lived many times longer than I had. How could she possibly be my daughter? By age, I should be neither her mother nor even her granddaughter, but rather her great-granddaughter or something of the sort. I protested, but the viewers paid me no mind. Well, at least they weren’t calling me grandma. That was something.
Just as I began to feel the urge to light my pipe, a server approached our table carrying a tray. She said she had brought the quickest items first and set down yubu sushi, fried yubu, and various side dishes before leaving.
The moment the server departed, both Baru and Baek Hwaryeong picked up their chopsticks and reached for the food. They both went for the fried yubu at the exact same time. After popping the pieces into their mouths almost simultaneously, they chewed once, eyes widening, then immediately reached for more.
What? Was it really that good? It was just tofu stuffed with filling and then fried. I tilted my head, picked up a piece with my chopsticks, and took a bite. Only then did I understand their reaction.
Beyond the crisp outer layer, the soft yubu gave way to a savory filling. Bulgogi? If I had to compare it to any dish I knew, that would be the closest. A soy-based seasoning, rich smoky aroma, meat with a satisfying chew, and various vegetables that added texture. All of it harmonized perfectly in my mouth, and before I knew it my eyes had widened.
Indeed. It was an astonishing flavor.
Anonymous has donated 1,000 won.
Stop just savoring it and explain already!
“Ah, my apologies. I was lost in thought for a moment. This is, well—”
“Are you kidding me right now?!”
The shout came from somewhere across the restaurant just as I was about to explain to the viewers. How uncultured. There were many people here enjoying their meals.
Wondering what the commotion was about, I turned my gaze and saw what appeared to be a martial artist yelling at someone across from him.
“You can’t just refuse to pay now!”
“Didn’t your group fail the mission? That’s a fact, isn’t it?”
“Fail? Fail?! You’re the one who canceled the request right before we completed it!”
From what I could gather, it was a common dispute in the Murim: one party refusing to pay and the other demanding proper compensation for work completed. This place lacked the strict legal enforcement of the modern world. When the Orthodox factions had controlled this city, they might have mediated, but now there was no one to deliver judgment.
“Hah. Fine, I’ll be generous. I’ll give you half of what was promised.”
“When even the full amount would be insufficient, you think half makes sense?!”
“Then what do you want me to do?”
“This bastard is unbelievable!”
The man who seemed to be the leader of the martial artist group stood up, and the others drew their weapons in unison.
“Hand over the money. Or else!”
“Or else what?”
The moment the merchant spoke, a man who had been sitting behind him rose as if he had been waiting. The fellow, who looked to be around the Peak Realm, stood beside the merchant and shouted at the martial artists.
“Get lost, you trash.”
“You’re Seol Do from the Black Cloud Sect!”
“If you know my name, then you understand the situation, don’t you?”
“People of the Evil Faction have no sense of justice!”
“That’s why we’re the Evil Faction.”
It would be nice if they took their childish games outside. I had no desire to get involved, but if I left them alone, blades would surely be drawn. Then the kitchen staff wouldn’t be able to focus on the food. The restaurant might even close for the day. Perhaps I should step in and chase them off moderately.
Just as I thought that and began to rise, one of the martial artists hurled a liquor bottle at his opponent. The motion was so obvious that the man simply tilted his head to dodge it. The bottle, now off course, flew straight toward us.
“How utterly lacking in manners.”
The flying bottle was sucked into Baek Hwaryeong’s grasp as if drawn by a magnet.
“Even a dog shows proper etiquette while others are eating.”
The loose, carefree smile she had worn just moments ago had completely vanished, replaced by a hardened expression.