The Strongest, but the Genre Is Magical Girl

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“Ugh, huhuhu, hieeeek!”

After a while, the first monster could do nothing but scream and laugh nervously.

Well, it did last quite a while.

“It’s broken.”

The four words uttered indifferently, like a child’s toy being shattered.

Soon after, the gaze shifts to the next target.

The other monsters, who had their eyes tightly shut at the horrifying screams.

As I slowly move towards the second one, accusations burst out as if they had been waiting.

“Y-you bastards! Do you have no conscience?!”

“Conscience? Coming from you guys who came to steal someone else’s land.”

The word “conscience” is something you’d never expect to hear from a monster.

The usual goal of monsters: conquest.

Using that as an example, I indifferently retort, asking who’s talking about conscience to whom.

The monsters’ visible body parts twitch violently.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t know which monster came to conquer and which came just to evaluate.

“W-wait! That’s a misunderstanding! We’re just here to evaluate…!”

“Y-yeah! We have nothing to do with that activity…!”

Realizing their mistake, the monsters quickly try to explain.

In their haste, one of them fainted from the torture, spilling all the internal details.

Sorry, but we already know everything.

“Shut it.”

If they admit they know, there’s no way out.

As if there’s no need to hear more, three short words shut the monsters’ mouths.

If you want to blame someone, blame the suitability evaluation system or whatever.

“You share even a single bean with your friends, so you should share the pain too, right?”

“Ugh, huuu…!”

Quoting a proverb, I approach the second monster, now frozen stiff.

Realizing that words no longer work, the monster starts to sob, its face twisted in agony.

Don’t cry, we’re just doing our jobs.

If you guys go back with your limbs and minds intact and give us a disqualification, it’ll be troublesome for both sides.

Usually, the purpose of torture is interrogation to find out something.

If you say something, there’s at least a way out.

Whether it leads to a quick death or actual mercy in being released.

But the destination of pure torture is only destruction.

There’s no escape until you’re completely broken.

Grill and cool, grill and cool.

30 minutes pass amidst screams loud enough to deafen.

“Ugh, finally done.”

“Good job—”

Even though we tried to be quick, quite a bit of time has passed.

Letting out a deep sigh mixed with exhaustion, I trudge over to where Siyeon is waiting on the roadside.

Only after the situation is over does Gomteng pop out of the pocket.

“Is it over now?”

The ones who always hide in pockets or somewhere during battles.

Since they’re no help in a fight, they try not to get in the way in their own way.

“Yeah.”

I answer gruffly as the cub peeks out from the pocket.

With more monsters, the time doubled for the meticulous torture.

Rustling, I grab the bag with toast and milk, ready to head home.

The lukewarm droplets on the bag handle hint that the food was once hot.

Well, it’s been 30 minutes since it was made.

You can’t expect it to be in its best state fresh off the griddle.

“Eh, it’s gone cold.”

I make a disappointed face, adding a sigh.

Meanwhile, the ever-positive Siyeon holds the bag and smiles.

“At least it’ll be easy to eat.”

“Is that how it works? Ugh, let’s hurry back.”

Each grabbing a toast bag, we fly off, transforming near the park close to home.

Early in the morning, the park is mostly filled with a few diligent unemployed folks or bored grandparents.

With all the office workers excluded, the summer morning park has empty pavilions to sit in leisurely.

Grumble, the stomach screams at the late breakfast.

“Let’s eat quickly.”

Without waiting, we sit down casually, unwrap the packaging, and take a bite.

The sound of the packaging being pressed, the fluffy richness of the egg filling the mouth.

Not hot or warm, but lukewarm toast with a sip of lukewarm milk.

Even though it’s almost cold, the buttery flavor still makes its presence known, revitalizing the hungry stomach.

Two high schoolers sitting side by side in a park pavilion, munching on toast in the morning—what a strange sight.

People passing by glance curiously, wondering what their story is, but we pay no mind and keep eating the toast.

Nibbling away at the toast like little mice, when suddenly…

“What’s that taste?”

“This?”

A question from Siyeon.

Reflexively, I stare at my toast, inspecting the contents.

We had each ordered completely different menus.

One was the basic, and the other was… what was it again?

Looking at the bitten part, it’s just egg and sauce.

“Just seems like it’s only egg.”

“Wanna try?”

“Here.”

Without hesitation, I offer my toast to Siyeon.

Chomp, she bites off the center part.

Then, she slyly offers her toast to me.

Unlike mine with scrambled eggs, hers has something like a soft-boiled egg slice.

Seems like we’re sharing bites, so I take a bite too.

The moist texture of the boiled egg, the chewiness of the minced meat, and the rich sauce—luxurious flavors.

Is this the difference between 3,900 won and 6,500 won?

Next up, garlic bacon cheese and cheese French.

As if by agreement, we take bites of each other’s again.

My garlic bacon cheese has bacon that won’t break easily, so I end up giving a whole strip to Siyeon.

“Wow, this tastes like garlic bread!”

“This is pretty good.”

Siyeon’s eyes widen in admiration—today’s hidden gem is the garlic bread.

The garlic bread sauce stuck to the toast surface was unexpectedly delicious.

They say Western cuisine doesn’t use much garlic, but why do they use so little of this delicious stuff?

“Whew, that was good!”

“Yeah.”

After eating bite by bite, the toast disappears like a crab hiding in its shell.

Beside Siyeon’s exclamation of satisfaction, I nod while sipping the remaining milk through a straw.

Even though it was cold, it was a satisfying breakfast.

Crumpling up the trash as small as possible, I stuff it into the bag and silently get up.

No need to sit here anymore since we’re done eating, an unspoken agreement.

With the promised monster torture neatly handled, today’s tasks are done.

Feeling at ease, I remember the dried squid I couldn’t buy last time because it was too late, and point slightly off the way home.

“Should we stop by the market on the way back and grab something?”

“Sure!”

Without hesitation, Siyeon answers.

Since we’re already out, we might as well leisurely stop by the market, pick up the dried squid we missed last time, and grab some ingredients for lunch.

What should we get? Pork belly for grilling? Pork shoulder for stew? Sirloin for bulgogi? Seasoned ribs, four in a pack?

Thinking too much about meat, I consider fish, but at home, we only ever make stew or grill fish.

Grilling fish is a mess with all the oil splatter, so that leaves stew.

‘Summer radish is too bitter for stew though…’

Walking to the market, I ponder over various options, but…

‘Ah, forget it, let’s just get some meat and onions.’

After considering difficulty, seasonality, and other factors, I conclude that land meat and onions are the best.

Consistent flavor, easy to eat, already pre-cut, just throw it on the grill.

And onions. No matter what, onions are always right.

Whether grilled, stir-fried, boiled, pickled, or fried, onions always pair well with meat.

Though frying is too much hassle at home, so we rarely do it.

Anyway.

Walking through the densely packed market stalls, the smell of frying oil hits my nose.

“……”

In front of a no-brand market chicken shop, Siyeon’s gaze is fixed on the fryer inside.

We just had breakfast, so we’re not really hungry, trying to pass by quietly, but…

There’s a lingering, subtle longing in her eyes.

Finally, even with both hands full of black plastic bags, my steps halt.

“…Should we get some for lunch?”

“……”

Pointing at the shop and asking casually, she glances at me and stays silent for a moment.

Embarrassed but reluctantly agreeing, she slowly nods.

“…Yeah.”

 

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