Hell Inn: Rebirth - I Became a Chef in Hell

Chapter 11 is handed over to the professional broadcasting demon.

"Oh...hahahaha...first of all, Miss ■■■, even if you go to hell, there will never be enough pleasant things in life, just like how stupid humans can never earn enough money."

Seeing that you suddenly spoke up to help, Alastor chuckled softly, narrowed his eyes, and then gently pressed his cane against your chin.

"As for our entertainment industry, I think your suggestions are fair enough."

The broadcasting devil still had that same effortless yet infuriatingly smug smile.

Although it wasn't obvious, you could still tell from his eyes and his slightly raised eyebrows that he was disappointed that the farce was over.

And you noticed that Alastor used the word "us" in relation to the "entertainment industry".

Suddenly realizing that the other person had figured out what kind of person you really were, your face immediately fell.

You really don't like people who are too smart, leaving them with no privacy at all.

"However, since our dear chef has spoken, I hope you can tell that hot-tempered young lady—"

Before he began to speak, you could see that Alastor's usually smiling face was now tinged with a rather obvious sense of disgust.

"Of course I can do what you ask, and you'll never again need me to deal with all that boring and stupid stuff related to television technology..."

The sinner lord, with his clear needs, raised his head, withdrew his cane, and then lightly tapped the pointed end against the floor.

"Or, we could simply continue this farce."

"You can keep letting the cook keep fighting with her pitiful lines until Shirley comes back and finds that nothing has been done."

The choice is yours.

The broadcast demon pronounced the words "the choice is yours" in a very flippant manner, and he even turned his head to glance back at Vicky with an indifferent look.

But you and Vicky both know that, in reality, Alastor is the winner of this deal, no matter which side you're on.

He could either get rid of the thing he hated most in the entire inn forever, or he could continue to enjoy his favorite fun. Either way, Vicky wouldn't lose out.

The person who had to make the choice was gripped by the name of one person.

You glanced at Vicky, who was completely defeated, and wondered whether you should go and comfort her.

Alastor is a smart man; even when he takes the initiative, he manages to secure a winning situation.

Although you admire the radio demon in front of you, you, who have always been on Shirley's side, simply stand quietly with your hands behind your back and your posture upright in front of him.

You already knew what choice Vicky would make.

If it's not a soul-for-soul deal, it wouldn't be a bad thing if Alastor were willing to help.

It's a win-win situation for both of you.

"...Fine, whatever you want."

After the white-haired sinner uttered those words while holding his forehead, you immediately understood and used your tail to hook the strangely shaped camera on the ground and hand it to Alastor.

"very good."

The broadcasting demon, quite satisfied with the current situation, took the thing you were carrying with your tail and snapped his fingers in a cheerful mood.

His movements were followed by the appearance of other sinners in the inn who were unaware of what had happened.

A sudden green light spreads upwards from your feet, and you watch as a bunch of filming props suddenly appear around you, and everyone who is easy to accept is changed into different clothes by Alastor's snap of his fingers.

"Damn, you really are a professional. As for my clothes, forget about them, I..."

You can actually change things too, but your level of expertise is probably far inferior to Alastor's, and your expression changes.

You try to stop the other person from changing your clothes as well.

After all, your white oriental robe and jade pendant are family heirlooms, and besides, you're not ready to wear hellish clothes yet!

...This specifically refers to those outfits on the street that are either red or pink.

"No, no, no, Miss Chef."

Seeing your resistance, Alastor immediately rejected your request with three different "no"s.

He walked up to you and snapped his fingers at you without any mercy. "You said I'm a professional, so how could I let any discordant elements ruin everything? I think you're past the age of rebellion, aren't you?"

He tilted his head back and met your direct gaze with his classic smile.

I'm speechless. Even praising someone's expertise can sound like a boomerang.

Your lips twitched.

You've always dressed in black and white, with maybe a few gold threads outlining some patterns. But now, your robe, so full of oriental flair, has been replaced without your consent by someone you can hardly judge.

Once he lowered his hand, a classic, fitted, backless European-style dress, with a color scheme not much different from Alastor's, clung perfectly to your body after the green light disappeared.

At the same time, you also feel pressure on your head and feet.

Because Alastor gave you a new hairstyle, and that huge European-style sun hat has a veil, not to mention you're wearing sky-high heels.

……

Although Alastor's aesthetic sense is amazing, you really hate foreigners.

Okay, okay, you admit you're a feudal remnant that wasn't completely eradicated, is that enough? This kind of fitted evening gown that doesn't actually reveal much is quite beautiful, but you just can't wear any of it.

You, who had never worn such an outfit even to your college prom, lifted the hem of your skirt, which was now completely dragging on the ground.

The high-quality fabric floated along the curve of your calf, revealing a section of your excessively pale leg. You used your tail to curl up your long hair that was dragging on the ground, and your expression became even more unpleasant.

"What's wrong? Can't you walk anymore, my beautiful lady?"

The broadcasting demon, always eager for drama, strolled gracefully to your side, giving you a wistful glance at you, who hadn't moved an inch since the beginning.

"...Great expert, chefs don't wear clothes like this to cook, or am I actually attending some kind of aristocratic party?"

Knowing that the other person was just there to mock you, you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"Go ahead and switch, who can replace you..."

You muttered unhappily in your familiar Mandarin.

Even though everyone in hell wears ridiculously high heels that leave a hole in every step, you still insist on wearing your metal-toed soft flat boots.

You think you can kick a hole in someone with your own shoes, so there's no need to torture your perfectly human feet with high heels.

The high heels Alastor gave you are absolutely the ultimate weapon. You think if you want to walk, you'll have to rely on your tail for help. Is this guy just trying to make a fool of you?

"Ha, I can't agree with that."

The broadcast demon laughed twice as if he had heard something particularly funny. He tilted his head, hooked your tail with his cane, and led you over.

"If becoming a chef means living a life devoid of joy, why would there be chefs in real life?"

Alastor twirled his slender, sharp four fingers in the air before clenching them, then squinted at you, who was steadying himself with his tail, his expression clearly very pleased.

"Think flexibly! Be passionate! Forge ahead! My dear!"

When he said this, both the broadcasting demon himself and his staff were speaking.

In addition, for some reason, he spoke very loudly, and you, standing next to him, were so shocked that your head was buzzing.

"...At least for now, you can torture someone else. I'm begging you."

You, with a forced smile, bent over, your expression almost ruined by the torment of wearing high heels.

Although you have the ability to enhance your height, you are already tall, and wearing these sky-high stilettos, which you might only wear once or twice in your life, is practically like being born to fight with angels.

You feel that if you embarrassingly sprain your ankle, you might even sprain your shinbone.