'What even is chuno?'
Zephyros, the Demon King's adjutant, narrowed his eyes. Then he looked over at his lord, who was squatting next to the compost patch.
'You're making something called "chuno" with wild potatoes for test tasting?'
Chuno.
It was a name he had never heard before.
He didn't even know what it looked like.
From the way his lord was talking, he could guess it was some sort of food.
'…Does such a thing actually… exist…?'
Doubt crept in.
It wasn't something easy to believe.
But then again, these days, everything his lord did had become like that.
'He's become so kind. The complete opposite of the days when he ruled everything through terror. Sure, his face and aura are still terrifying as ever… but still…'
He had grown gentle.
At least in how he treated Zephyros.
Even more so when dealing with the low-ranking-ranking demons.
If it were the old Credos?
Even just the sight of low-ranking-ranking demons fidgeting before him would've been enough to have them ground up on the spot, turned into a puddle of blood. That was the Demon King. The one who reigned at the pinnacle of all demons. The rightful ruler of the Abandoned Lands, entitled to such authority.
But now, things are different.
The sight of the Demon King squatting down, laying out wild potatoes on the ground with care—that was something unimaginable in the past.
"......"
Zephyros turned his gaze to the side.
He could see the low-ranking demons, looking utterly bewildered by the unexpected "leading by example" behavior of the Demon King. Their unease was written all over their faces. They were probably scared the Demon King might suddenly lose it and rip them to pieces.
Or perhaps…
'Like me, they just don't believe in this "chuno" nonsense.'
Honestly, it was hard to believe.
Those wild tubers the lord called "wild potatoes"—those weren't food. They were inedible to begin with.
Swallowing just a few of them would bring excruciating pain, and sometimes, death. Just useless toxic weeds.
'But… will that really work?'
Zephyros watched his lord with even narrower eyes. Upon closer inspection, his lord wasn't just tossing the wild potatoes around carelessly. He was actually arranging them neatly, spacing them out so they wouldn't overlap or touch, paying close attention to detail.
Maybe that's why it happened.
Why Zephyros, without even realizing it, forgot his role of standing by his lord's side and recording all his actions and orders—and dared to ask a question outright.
"My lord, may I humbly ask what you are doing?"
"Oh, sure. You can see, can't you? I'm laying out potatoes."
Thankfully, his lord wasn't angry.
In fact, he replied like it was nothing, with a nonchalant look on his face.
"This way, the moisture comes out better."
"Moisture… you say?"
"Yeah, it's kind of complicated to explain, but basically, this gets rid of the poison."
"You mean the poison will be gone?"
"Mm. If you leave them like this long enough."
"....."
Zephyros was momentarily speechless.
But only for a moment.
He couldn't hold back and ended up asking again.
"My lord, are you saying you intend to dry them in the sun?"
"Yeah. Half right."
"But if you do that, won't they freeze at night?"
"Right again. There's the other half."
"Pardon?"
Zephyros's eyebrows twitched again.
"But my lord, if you dry them in the sun during the day, then they freeze at night, and then thaw again during the day… those potatoes, won't they just get ruined?"
"They will. They're gonna be a mess."
"....."
"That's the point."
"...."
"Do I seem weird to you?"
"Yes. You do, my lord."
"Good. I like that you don't lie."
"...."
In the end, Zephyros shut his mouth, and Kim Jangcheol simply wore a meaningful smile.
And then, days truly passed.
To be precise, five suns rose and five moons set. During that time, the wild potatoes repeatedly froze at night and thawed during the day, turning into a completely soggy, mushy mess.
Thanks to that, the expressions on Zephyros's and the low-ranking demons' faces also turned into a mess of frowns.
It was simply too hard to believe.
The idea of eating something like that felt utterly unreal. Almost like a deception.
"......"
But their lord remained as calm as ever.
Zephyros began to feel a tinge of anxiety.
A gut feeling that things were starting to spiral out of control.
He could sense the rising tide of discontent among the low-ranking demons with his whole body.
'…This is dangerous.'
Even if their lord was powerful.
Even if he held the title of Demon King.
If all the demons of the Abandoned Lands were to rise up?
That would be an entirely different matter.
'If the Four Heavenly Kings rally public sentiment and turn on him… then even he might be overwhelmed.'
Baal, who had recently shown unwavering loyalty, might be an exception.
But the other three?
If Asurat, Hartok, and Sirgi were to all rise in revolt? And the overwhelming majority of low-ranking demons threw their support behind them?
Even their lord would fall.
"......"
Please, let it not come to that. And yet, why does it feel like hope keeps slipping away?
As he looked at the utterly ruined, mushy wild potatoes, Zephyros let out a sigh without realizing it.
And deep inside, he hoped.
That his lord truly had a plan. That he would somehow make something spectacular out of those sorry-looking potatoes and put everyone's worries to rest.
…It was around that time.
"Baal is reporting as summoned by the Demon King!"
A booming voice suddenly pierced his eardrums.
Sure enough, when he turned, Baal's massive frame was bounding toward them.
"Good. Right on time."
His lord welcomed Baal.
Then, with a nod, he pointed to the mushy mess of potatoes.
"Baal, you see those?"
"I see them!"
"Great. Step on them."
"…Huh?"
"Step on them."
"…Baal doesn't want to step in poop!"
"Tch, it's not poop. It's potatoes."
"But it looks like the poop you left yesterday!"
"I don't poop like that!"
"Still gross!"
"Tch. It's not poop, it's potatoes. Food. And I even moved them onto clean rocks so you wouldn't get dirt on them when you stepped on them, right?"
"Baal doesn't care about rocks or whatever! Why does Baal have to step on them?!"
"Because if you do, they won't hurt and they'll taste good?"
"…Are you saying if Baal doesn't step on them, you'll hit Baal?"
"No, it's not that—"
"Baal doesn't get it!"
"Tch. Then listen."
Kim Jangcheol drew in a breath.
Smack smack—he licked his lips briefly.
Then his tongue hit full throttle.
"Wild potatoes contain an alkaloid glycoside called solanine. It's a natural biotoxin synthesized by the wild potatoes to protect themselves from predators. If a 70kg adult consumes just 210 to 420 milligrams of this, there's a 50% chance of death—in other words, a fifty-fifty chance of having a career counseling session with the Ruler of the Underworld. It's a lethal poison."
"…Wha?"
"So we need to get rid of the poison. But solanine is stored inside the vacuoles of the cells. So if we mash the potatoes properly by stepping on them, the cell walls break, and the solanine leaks out with the vacuolar fluid. Then we dry it out in the sun again? The toxicity evaporates completely. Got it?"
"…Baal's brain is breaking!"
"Wanna break it some more?"
"Baal's sorry!"
"Then shall I step on it?"
"Baal, stepping on it now!"
Thump, thump, thump!
Baal, looking just slightly pale, moved quickly. He began stomping on the wild potatoes in a flurry.
Boom! Squish!
A full-body stomping from Baal!
...Crushed under the force, the potatoes were pulverized down to the nano level. Their cell walls, vacuoles, everything ruptured, and the solanine poison oozed out in every direction.
And on Kim Jangcheol's lips, watching the scene?
A bright, beaming smile bloomed.
'Oh, excellent job!'
The more he watched, the more pleased he became.
And at the same time, he felt relieved.
'Thankfully, the climate around the Demon King's Castle is almost identical to that of the central Andes highlands.'
He was lucky.
Thanks to that, he could remove the toxins from the wild potatoes using the exact traditional methods the ancient Andean natives had once employed.
'The Titicaca region of the Andes highlands is notorious for its insane temperature swings. Freezing cold at night, but warm enough in the daytime to feel like early summer.'
So the potatoes froze at night.
Thawed gently during the day.
Just by laying them out and letting them go through that process, he could turn them into a complete mushy mess.
And when stomped on in that state?
The potato tissue would collapse easily, the cell walls breaking apart, and the solanine—leaving behind the sorrowful world—would evaporate into the heavens while performing the Seven-Star Eel Ascension Dance, as per tradition!
'Phew, long live potatoes.'
Kim Jangcheol gave the solanine purge an extra push. He had Baal stomp the crushed potatoes again after several more rounds of freezing, thawing, and drying. Then another freeze, another stomp, another thaw. And finally, a thorough drying.
And at last, it was complete.
"Right. This is the very first chuno of the Abandoned Lands."
"........"
"And now, I shall have you all taste this historic chuno."
"........"
One hundred pieces of chuno were laid out in front of Kim Jangcheol!
The low-ranking demons, staring at them, forced a faint grimace onto their faces.
It was inevitable.
The chuno looked… incredibly pathetic.
'He expects us… to eat that?'
'A taste test? Is this really a tasting?'
'It just looks… like dried poop.'
'I think my armpit would taste better than that…'
It didn't look edible at all, even at a glance. If they had to eat that, licking a pebble on the roadside like a candy would probably be way more pleasant.
And besides, everyone knew.
'That was made from a toxic plant, wasn't it?'
'So the poison must still be in it.'
'Plus, I saw it. Right before Baal stomped on that stuff… he ran straight through the compost patch.'
'So with those compost-covered feet, he stomped on that… Uugh… blurgh…'
'Still, if we don't eat it… he'll probably kill us, right?'
'But… I really don't want to eat it…'
'If I'm gonna suffer and die from poison and terrible taste, maybe… just maybe, getting killed instantly by an angry Demon King would be easier.'
Everyone's minds were in turmoil.
A look of conflict showed in their eyes.
A taste test, he said.
But no one wanted to do it.
Of course, Kim Jangcheol wasn't oblivious to the unease among the low-ranking demons.
'These little punks…'
But he didn't feel angry.
He simply looked at their faces—those faces staring at the unappealing food—and was reminded of a certain day from his childhood.
"..."
He must've been twelve years old then.
One day, he really wanted pizza.
All his friends had tried it. But he never had. He wanted to try it so badly.
So he threw a tantrum.
He pestered his grandmother.
The one who raised him all alone, she snapped. Said there was no way they could afford something like that. Told him to study hard, go to college, and then eat as much pizza as he wanted.
He cried when he heard that.
Curled up and hugged his pillow all night, sobbing.
But the next day.
His birthday.
When he got home from school, he found his grandmother waiting, having heated up a "pizza" she had made herself.
At first, he was thrilled.
Then… disappointed.
The pizza was weird.
What was on the plate looked nothing like what he imagined pizza to be.
Just some dough that looked like a pancake, with chopped scallions, egg yolk, and peppers sprinkled on top… who could even call that pizza?
He was stunned.
But then he realized.
When he saw the flyer, sitting by the table—crumpled and obviously picked up from somewhere—that pizza shop flyer.
'Back then… Grandma…'
She hadn't had any idea what pizza really was. But her grandson wanted it so badly. And it was his birthday. So she had tried to make something like pizza.
So she brought home the flyer, and tried to figure something out.
Based on what she understood.
Doing her best to make something even vaguely similar.
Just to bring a smile to the face of the grandson who had cried under the covers all night.
She probably even burned her fingers while pan-frying that "pizza," trying to make something that resembled the real thing.
"......"
Why was he suddenly thinking about that day?
Why did he suddenly remember that moment—smiling through tears and eating that not-so-tasty "Grandma Pizza" with joy?
'Yeah, you guys probably feel the same.'
That disappointment he felt as a child when the pizza wasn't what he expected.
That mix of confusion and letdown.
They were probably feeling the same now.
With a warm smile, Kim Jangcheol looked at the low-ranking demons. Then, as if quoting the words his grandmother had warmly said to him that birthday long ago, he spoke.
"There's not much, but enjoy it anyway."
"...!"
The low-ranking demons' pupils trembled. They felt chills run down their sixth vertebra.
And they understood.
'…"Enjoy it even if there's not much?"'
Which clearly meant…
'He doesn't care how we feel, isn't interested in our opinion, and if we don't enjoy it… something unimaginably horrible will happen to us, so we'd better act accordingly—yeah?'
That's exactly what it was.
Without a doubt.
That terrifying, satisfied smile the Demon King was wearing while watching them—it had to be that!
"...!"
Alarms started blaring in the minds of all the low-ranking demons.
From that moment on,
The primal fear for their survival overwhelmed their disgust toward the bizarre food. Everyone's hands moved at light speed. They grabbed the shriveled chuno pieces. Dipped them in salt, as Kim Jangcheol indicated with a glance. Brought them to their mouths.
They bit down.
Crunch?
"…Huh?"
In that moment, the low-ranking demons collectively felt it.
A sensation completely beyond their expectations—an avalanche of rich, salty-savory harmony, surging like a Nuvolari Grand Prix in their taste buds, a gourmet symposium of flavor that swept their tongues in a glorious crescendo of umami and delight.
And along with that…
…Ding-dong!
[Some members of your Demon King's Army are experiencing a powerful burst of taste bud-induced happiness.]
[First Happy Point has been earned!]
A most delightful message neatly filled Kim Jangcheol's view.