Hell Inn: Rebirth - I Became a Chef in Hell

Chapter 78 He still can't forget the Golden Age

To be frank, it feels strange to think in front of Alastor.

At this moment, the Eastern Sinner stood at the door of the room, expressionless, watching Alastor, who was looking around the room with curiosity.

After entering your room, Alastor didn't rush to ask you what was wrong.

Your room is quite special in the hotel because it's only accessible by invitation. And currently, only the girls and Angel have access to your room.

Alastor isn't exactly the type to be interested in a room with the opposite sex, but if that "opposite sex" is you, things might be a little different.

The male demon, entering your room for the first time, scanned everything around you, his interest evident on his face.

Since the light in hell doesn't really matter, you always tend to draw the curtains and let other things in your room provide the lighting.

For example, your "bed".

Due to its unique design, the most eye-catching thing in your room is your bed – the "Jade Tree on Jade Branches".

Your horns and tail make it difficult for you to fall asleep on normal bedding, so the thing standing right in the middle of your room... is exactly what it sounds like.

It was a giant tree that emitted a faint white light and seemed to be breathing.

You will sleep in the middle of the tree's thick trunk, while your tail and horns will find their own home on the tree.

In addition, the giant tree is surrounded by a pool with a radius of two meters. You will dangle your tail into the water while you sleep to avoid waking up as a dried-up ribbonfish.

The snow-white giant tree standing in the center of the pool is like a piece of jade.

Its trunk is thick and its leaves are lush.

After you and Alastor entered the room, the giant tree seemed to tremble gently in welcome.

The lush green leaves rustled against each other, and a few leaves drifted down with the movement of the giant tree, creating two faint ripples on the water's surface.

"Hmph... Your room certainly has a lot of interesting sights, darling."

The lazy-looking broadcast demon gave a concise and clear assessment of your room.

His gaze swept over the bookshelves embedded in the walls of your room and the astonishing number of books, the small garden in the corner enclosed by fences and growing lush green vegetables, the table you use to write on—and the old-fashioned radio you placed on it, which was obviously extremely expensive.

Upon seeing the radio that you actually cherish, you noticed a clear look of surprise on Alastor's face.

He didn't seem to expect to see a radio in your room.

"Don't be so surprised, Mr. Radio Devil. Besides radios, I also have record players, typewriters, floor-standing cassette players, and other such things."

After seeing the other person's expression, you put your hands behind your back and looked indifferently at Alastor, who was standing by the pool.

In fact, you even use an old-fashioned emerald green pull-out lamp for your desk lamp, and one wall in your room is covered with clippings, notes, and magazine clippings from different eras.

If you didn't really like things from the old era, you wouldn't be able to chat with Alastor, who has such a sharp and sarcastic tongue.

"Ah...these are such nostalgic words."

The voice sounded like some old-fashioned radio. The sinner lord seemed more suited to the room than you. He reached out and plucked a glowing leaf, then gently touched the radio you had placed on the table.

"Miss ■■■'s unparalleled aesthetic sense even gives me the illusion of being transported back to that era—"

"That was truly a wonderful but short-lived period, don't you think?"

Faced with the old gentleman's genuine regret, you didn't know how to respond. You could only stand there watching him lower his eyes and stroke the grain of your wooden table.

Alastor's red always carries a playful yet unapproachable aggressiveness.

But at this moment, the bright, even somewhat aggressive red of Wendigo is softened by the warm yellow light emanating from your desk lamp.

After his sharp fingertips lightly brushed against the radio, a cheerful jazz tune suddenly started playing, accompanied by a series of chaotic frequency-switching sounds.

Playful, elegant...

ambiguous.

You know that's the power of the broadcasting demon itself; he used your radio to play one of his favorite songs.

Seeing the other person's ambiguous actions, you stood still and unconsciously took a deep breath.

Unlike the rest of the Hell Inn, your room, after you've cleaned it, always exudes a cool, old-fashioned woody scent.

A bookshelf crammed with books that were almost worn out from being read so many times, a giant tree, a pond, and old objects.

Different things in your room may be clearly distinct, but at this moment, they embrace each other and create a new atmosphere in your room.

"...What a work of art this place is, my dear, just like this exquisitely crafted Grundig 5010."

Seemingly unconcerned about your reply, Alastor twirled his cane around, then affectionately tapped the knob on the radio with his fingertip.

He began to mutter to himself in a voice that sounded more like a broadcaster than ever before, enunciating each word clearly.

"Oh, I still remember those days when everyone, young and old, would sit in front of a radio waiting for their own program: soap operas, cooking shows, music programs, children's stories... and most importantly, the news!"

"New things always fill people with enthusiasm! Don't they?"

"And most importantly, those were glorious moments that could only be played on a single radio."

The radio demon, who was filled with nostalgia and longing for that golden age, spoke in a tone that sounded like he was reciting some kind of epic.

As the jazz melody gradually quickens, Wendigo appears as a shadow, swiftly moving to your side and then placing a hand on your shoulder.

"I can still remember the smell of the recording studio, and the interesting tragedies that happened that day while wearing a headset and reporting to those eager souls... Ah! I have to say, I even miss the way the staff on set yelled at me."

After Alastor finished speaking with a slightly playful tone, you were about to put his hand down when you suddenly heard a dangerous murmur coming from his throat.

"But now... all of this has been ruined by something that just posts colorful pictures—maybe I shouldn't have had too many expectations of the tasteless, stupid souls in hell."

Alastor, with antlers growing on its head, faces you with its huge, smiling, bluish-gray face.

At this very moment, both of his hands are on your shoulders. And if he so desires, his eight sharp, devilish fingers could pierce your shoulders right now.

As the capricious eyes of the broadcasting demon transformed into the pointer of an old-fashioned radio, the originally light and melodious jazz music was suddenly replaced by a scream that seemed to originate from some deep space.

A chilling power distorted the face of the broadcasting demon, and you could clearly sense the immense rage that Alastor was exposing at that moment.

You're probably a little surprised that Alastor could have such emotional moments.

But in the end you didn't say anything. You just stood there quietly, waiting for Alastor to finish his sudden emotional outburst.

"What an unbelievable era! Fragmented information, meaningless color picture programs, and annoyingly arrogant audiences! No wonder the golden age was killed; stupidity can kill anything! Isn't that so?"

"What a utterly disappointing era."

With his emotions flowing freely, Alastor opened and closed his eyes, and everything returned to normal.

The elegant old gentleman kept his distance from you as if nothing had happened, then lazily straightened his bow tie with his eyelids drooping.

"Of course! Perhaps those tasteless viewers are only fit to scream on my radio show... Ah! That's how they can demonstrate their value. After all, not every demon can be as tasteful as Miss ■■■."

you:"……"

You find it hard to take the radio demon's praise, which may or may not be superficial, to heart, but you feel that you might be able to understand some of his mentality.

The once-glorious gentleman fell from his throne seven years later, and when he returned, everything had changed. Although people still respected and feared him, he could never return to his golden age of glory.

As a clever man, Alastor was adept at displaying a dangerous, enigmatic smile. So, you might guess he had decent control over his emotions... But after falling from the throne, even someone like Alastor couldn't control his emotions—isn't this a testament to the difficulty of transitioning from luxury to simplicity?

You can understand Alastor's obsession because you have it too.

Because of our shared circumstances, you feel a mix of emotions when you gaze at the slender gentleman before you.

"But now, the pathetic souls of sinners are controlled by a mere clown, all show and no substance, arrogant and insecure! Perhaps we'll soon witness the birth of the funniest joke in history! Who knows?"

Even without looking, it's obvious that Alastor, who has a particularly bad relationship with a certain president, added this sentence in a gloating tone.

When commenting on Vox, the animated broadcaster closed his eyes, exaggeratedly shrugged his shoulders, and waved his hand, trying to express his contempt to the extreme.

In fact, you haven't said a word since Alastor started expressing his opinions as if no one else was around.

After venting his emotions, Alastor placed his hands on his cane, tilted his head and looked at you, saying, "I guess Miss ■■■ has a unique charm that makes demons feel comfortable revealing their emotions... but I think I should apologize for my rudeness?"

The broadcasting demon, with his slightly curved eyes, looked at the quiet Eastern sinner before him, and his smile gradually widened.

Because ■■■ is never afraid, never interrupts, and never makes biased comments about other people's speeches, Alastor didn't even realize that he was losing control of his emotions in front of her.

But why?

Was it because ■■■, like a statue that only listens, gave him enough respect and the pleasure of speaking? Was it because of her rare and exquisitely tasteful Grundig 5010? Or was it because of the smell and environment in her room that resembled a library from that era?

Maybe none of this matters, but he'll figure it out someday.

For a broadcaster with extremely high standards, at the very least, the chef at Hell Inn would be a perfect listener who would give him enough respect.

He would even be willing to take time out of his busy schedule to write a reply to this sophisticated woman—if she would write to him as a fan.

...Perhaps he would prefer and appreciate this type of statue to those noisy souls!

Thinking this, the crimson Wendigo looked at the female demon staring at him, and a faint, ambiguous "rustling" sound unconsciously escaped his throat.

……

...Tch, Alastor won't apologize, and even if he did, it probably wouldn't be sincere.

You silently muttered this to yourself, not knowing what Alastor was thinking.

Since the female demon didn't speak, the demon, who intended to steer the conversation back to the initial broadcast, didn't become impatient with her silence.

The Western gentleman in deep red, with a look of mockery and curiosity, asked with great enthusiasm:

"Well then, perhaps my silent chef can tell me now... what kind of fun is it that's worth you coming to me alone to discuss? But I hope it's not something too boring, my dear."

Wendigo narrows his eyes in front of you, his smile unchanged.

The broadcast demon's exposed fangs and red eyes remind you of a carnivore about to pounce on its prey.

Confident and at ease—

It's just a pity that you're not some fool he could hunt down.

"..."

"I do want to make a deal with you, broadcast the demon."

"...Perhaps you're interested in taking down 3V?"

……

……

Alastor: "...?"