This World is too Cruel to Men – Chapter 209

Is it because of the subject at hand?

In just a single moment, my mind became a tangled mess.

It felt like a ball of yarn had been thrown in front of me, completely knotted together.

And there I was, stuck in a situation where I had to untangle it somehow.

But the knots were so severe that I had no idea where to even start, or where the end or beginning was.

If only I could just cut it all off cleanly, I would feel much better… but this was a metaphorical mess, and it wasn’t something I could just slice away.

Thus, I had no choice but to wrestle with my thoughts, which is why my hands, previously in motion to chop the ingredients for the soup, suddenly came to a standstill.

With my mind in disarray, handling a knife seemed absurd.

It would be a relief if everything turned out alright, but in a worst-case scenario, I could easily end up cutting a finger off.

I was merely pausing for that reason, but Bora, sitting behind me and watching, seemed to think my behavior was a bit strange.

“What’s wrong? Is there a problem?”

The voice coming from right behind me abruptly jolted my muddled thoughts back to reality.

“Huh? What did you say?”

“I just noticed that you suddenly stopped, and I wondered if something was wrong.”

“Oh… no. I was just… thinking about what to make.”

I was already struggling with a chaotic brain, and now here was Bora, the very definition of a troublesome character, stepping in?

If that happened, it wasn’t just a joke; my head might really overload and explode.

So, trying to brush her off, I thought about sending Bora back to her original spot, but…

“Can I try that too?”

Before I could say anything, Bora’s cautious voice unexpectedly floated out.

“This?”

By the way she referred to it, I had no clue what she was talking about.

Caught off guard by the context shift, it seemed like Bora could read my confusion, and she softly added,

“I’m talking about making rice.”

“Oh…”

Well, strictly speaking, there was no reason for her not to.

Honestly, I also enjoyed having meals prepared by others.

After all, it’s overwhelmingly convenient to sit at a table set by someone else than to make it yourself.

Of course, the most crucial aspect of food is its taste; if it’s neither convenient nor tasty, that could lead to a disaster… but I could easily pitch in as a taste tester.

“Are you sure? Then?”

Anyway, I had no reason to refuse, so I quickly set the knife aside and stepped aside.

Just then, Bora, who had been waiting, took my place as if she had been hanging on my every move… and as soon as I saw her holding the knife at the cutting board, I felt a thrill.

No, to be precise, I felt admiration.

It was hard to believe that simply standing there with the knife could look so awkward and dangerously silly.

‘If she gets this right…’

Could she maybe surpass Yoonseo?

I had thought Yoonseo was the top of the line in this realm, but who knew there could be someone who could outshine her?

Yoonseo, despite her clumsiness, had seen and done enough to at least handle basic cutting, but this…

No, everything else aside, why on earth was she holding the knife like that?

Was she trying to crush garlic or something?

That definitely wasn’t the stance of someone trying to cut something.

I had expected her to be awkward, but I never thought it would be to this degree.

Had she really never made anything herself in her life?

I felt a bit dizzy at the thought, and it suddenly seemed plausible.

According to Chae-rim’s explanation, Bora had basically been under the Association’s care since she was very young.

Plus, what was her nickname within the Association?

Not just “young lady,” but “Princess.”

So, it wouldn’t be surprising if she had never cooked or made something herself.

Anyway, as they say, reality often surpasses imagination, and Bora’s stance before me was just that.

So, I had no choice but to put aside everything and adjust her grip on the knife first.

“Don’t hold it like that; grip it like you’re shaking hands.”

“Like this?”

At least one thing I could say was fortunate was that she seemed to follow my instructions well.

It was a bit strange to have to explain what I thought would be common knowledge, but Bora’s attitude was cooperative.

“Yes, grip it like that. Oh, and you know to use the ‘cat paw’ with the other hand, right?”

“‘Cat paw’…? Like this…?”

“No, that’s more like a tiger’s paw, though…”

I definitely asked for ‘cat paw,’ so why was a paw fit for a tiger about to pounce on prey coming out?

When someone says ‘cat paw,’ don’t you usually picture fingers curled in with a cute ‘nyang♡’?

But why was she…?

‘Does she hate cats or something?’

So much so that I ended up wondering that.

Anyway, there were a few unexpected hurdles along the way, but I managed to help Bora with her stance on the knife.

And perhaps my efforts didn’t go to waste.

“Now, can I start cutting?”

“Yes, just be careful.”

Bora’s cutting began without any major issues.

Results were crooked and uneven, typical of a beginner, but once it was in the stomach, it was all the same, right?

Only not slicing a finger off was a win in my book.

What surprised me was Bora’s reaction.

I don’t know where she found that level of fun, but as she successfully demolished the half-radish I had set aside for the soup, her cheeks flushed a bright red.

“Can I… do more?”

With that eager twinkle in her eyes, how could I possibly say no?

So from then on, I remained right beside Bora.

And one thing I learned was that her dexterity was much better than I had expected.

What began with her being totally clueless escalated to a much better level over time.

As she got used to cutting, I suppose her curiosity expanded to other parts as well.

“So what are we making now?”

After having successfully felled all the ingredients I had lined up for cooking, Bora turned to me with an expectant look.

So it seemed I was going to have to leave the next step to her as well.

“Um… I was thinking of making dried pollack soup…”

“Dried pollack soup?”

“Oh, is that not good?”

When she tilted her head at hearing the menu, I initially thought she just didn’t like it.

After all, when it comes to hangover soup, dried pollack soup is the classic choice, but plenty of people don’t care for the texture of dried pollock.

To be honest, I was one of them when I was younger.

So, preparing to change lanes to something like beef soup if necessary, her answer surprised me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”

“…Really?”

At first, I couldn’t believe that was possible, but then again, I didn’t know her past 10 years, so what could I say?

For now, I was okay with simply accepting that.

“Should we just pick another menu?”

“No, I think we should stick to the original plan. I’m curious to see how it tastes.”

Thus, the making of the dried pollack soup began.

And as Bora encountered dried pollack for the first time in her life, her impression was simple.

“It looks just like the snacks that puppies eat.”

There were a few hitches here and there, but the soup-making itself wrapped up without trouble.

Dried pollack soup isn’t exactly a challenging dish to make after all.

Simply soak the dried pollack in water, sauté it with radish in sesame oil, pour in some broth from the fridge, and then add minced garlic, green onions, and tofu. Just boil it up, and it’s done.

And once you season it with soy sauce and finish it off with egg wash?

‘That’s it.’

What were just regular steps for me felt completely novel to Bora, who was doing it for the first time.

When the soup was finally finished, Bora seemed to be staring at the contents of the pot with a gaze full of wonder.

“Do you want to try some?”

I asked Bora, because it looked like she could stay like that forever otherwise.

Luckily, it seemed Bora was just as curious about the finished product.

With a nod, she scooped some with the spoon I handed her from the pot.

Then she blew on it a couple of times before bringing it to her mouth and gulping it down…

“How is it? Do you think it turned out okay?”

Before I could even finish asking, she made a slight frown, and I wondered if it was seasoned poorly.

“Why? Is it bad?”

Or maybe dried pollack soup just wasn’t to her taste.

As I asked, Bora took a spoonful of the soup and offered it to me.

Was that a hint to eat it myself?

It seemed like it, so without thinking, I took it and—

‘…That’s not bad.’

“Is this an indirect kiss?”

Just as that thought sprang into my mind, Bora blurted out something that could leave anyone flustered.

“If that’s the case… we’ve just had two kisses now.”

I nearly choked at that.

“By the way, it tastes good. This… dried pollack soup.”

As I leaned a bit forward, coughing multiple times, Bora’s voice continued.

“I like it. So…”

And what followed that statement was…

“I think I’m going to like it.”