The Foreigner on the Periphery

There is no such thing as a dragon with a bad flavor or texture.

It means a tasteless dragon does not exist.

Grilled, boiled, fried, sliced raw, kneaded into plant-based ingredients, dried and mashed before roasting, brewed into alcohol, double-boiled, eaten frozen, carbonated, fermented via parasitic infection, extracted into an essence using ultra-high-pressure processes, inhaled through the nasal membrane after crystallization, or even dissolved in Gelep-Chet or oil and coagulated—dragon is delicious.

Their quality might be lower when they are young, but flavor is a different matter. When it comes to taste, Ancient Dragons have their own strengths, and young dragons have theirs.

Chatting with a dragon not even a hundred years old, Minjun felt the flavors he had enjoyed in the distant past lingering on his tongue. Due to productivity issues—primarily dictated by Dragon Heart quality—it was common practice to wait until they reached a suitable age before slaughtering them, but there were occasional instances when a young dragon had to be taken. It was a rare delicacy.

'Not that I'm going to butcher and eat this guy right here and now, but still.'

The reason his appetite was suddenly stimulated, even though he had no such intention, was likely due to the current situation.

Namely, the situation of holding a Frying Pan (a cooking utensil) and showing off his skills (cooking) in front of a dragon (an ingredient). It was certainly the first time this had happened since he awakened his identity as a prisoner.

The words he had blurted out as a bluff had also served as an unexpected trigger. The moment he guaranteed his cooking skills, his mind reflexively filled with a vast array of dragon recipes and soaring pride.

If asked whether he had been terrible at cooking before recovering his memories, the answer was no. Even without mobilizing the Frying Pan—such as during the massive dog food stir-fry he fed the assemblymen—he had always known how to cook ordinary meals. As for his skill level, it was high enough that he felt genuine rage when Cathy asked, "Even if we assume you don't have the Frying Pan, aren't your cooking and mine about the same?"

However, it seemed he possessed talent far beyond that back in the days when he hunted dragons for a living. The memories swelling in his brain carved that fact into Minjun. He glanced at Kentius.

'I can't butcher him right now, but maybe just a little bit of tail meat...'

He barely suppressed the thought before it could take firmer root.

'No, I can't. I shouldn't.'

It was a situation similar to when he saw Rod's corpse. He suppressed the mindset of the past before it could sweep over him like a high tide.

In that brief moment, Minjun's gaze shifted several times.

Meanwhile, the young dragon watching him, Kentius, was seized by an unfamiliar sensation.

"...?!"

The dragon didn't know what to call this feeling.

It was similar to the ticklish feeling in one's mind when recognizing someone after a long time, only to find their name hazy and hard to recall.

Had Minjun heard of this psychological state, he would have defined it as 'a chilling sense of crisis and dread, similar to déjà vu in that it is not based on memory, but difficult to define accurately because it is rooted in instinct.' The dragon quickly shook the sensation off.

'Nonsense. Why would I!'

Why would a dragon cower before an alien holding a Frying Pan?

Despite his fierce internal denial, Kentius spoke without realizing it.

"Hmm, in that case, it might be better to call my personal chef who handles my meals in my Polymorph state..."

"Since we've joined hands, it's only right that I show you the greatest hospitality I can offer. Furthermore, I can't eat what others have made. My own outstanding skills have ruined my palate."

It was a bold-faced lie.

Minjun spoke in a dry tone, as if merely listing facts.

"As it happens, Earth is the seventh dimension I've been dispatched to."

The dragon wore a bewildered expression, wondering why the prisoner was suddenly bringing this up.

"During my previous assignments, in Dimension #91-002, I was tasked with escorting the crown prince of an empire that ruled over all intelligent life there."

This part was true.

"Whenever a security issue arose, instead of bringing in outside food, we had to isolate ourselves and manage our meals using the ingredients available there. The crown prince happened to taste my cooking once, and he appointed me as his personal chef after that. Until the dispatch period ended, he refused to touch anything I hadn't made. He even petitioned the Committee to let me stay on, though it was rejected."

"...You were the personal chef to a crown prince who ruled an entire dimension?"

He looked intrigued.

Of course, there were parts Minjun left unsaid.

'I went through quite a bit of trouble addicting that degenerate bastard behind the Royal Household Department's back.'

That crown prince had thrown a tantrum demanding that Minjun, his escort, teach him Dark Magic, which Minjun naturally ignored. When the crown prince arbitrarily cut his wages in response, Minjun was enraged. He was receiving Talent separately from the Committee, but aside from that, he couldn't tolerate the broken promise.

Afterward, Minjun dedicated himself to developing a Dark Magic drug that could take effect without the Royal Household Department noticing. Unlike the Happy Bug, which had immediate effects, this drug had to be taken long-term. In exchange for that drawback, he could addict someone without anyone knowing.

As a result, the crown prince became a docile sheep who followed whatever Minjun said, and the escort duty went smoothly until the very last day.

"The males of the Belbeb tribe die even faster than humans, but the females belong to a long-lived race, so there must still be many maids who remember those days. If it's hard to believe, you can verify it yourself."

As he spoke, a thought suddenly crossed his mind. Come to think of it, the extreme difference in lifespan between males and females was similar to the Ober spider. It was rare to see a species like this among intelligent beings.

"Ah, well... no need to go that far. Fine. Let's see your skills."

It went exactly as Minjun had expected.

This blockhead dragon wouldn't know where Dimension #91-002 was, nor how to contact it. He also wouldn't know that the species living there were akin to insects.

If he were of a different species, he might have worried that this was a plot to poison him, but Kentius, intoxicated by the superiority of dragons, couldn't even fathom such an idea.

Even if it wasn't poison, it would be natural to suspect that something was imbued within the Frying Pan or that the act of cooking itself was some kind of curse. However, Kentius had absolute faith in a dragon's ability to detect Magic. He was certain he would instantly notice any such signs.

In truth, setting everything else aside, he never imagined Minjun would harm him. It was obvious a backlash would follow according to the Dragonic Code.

Leaving him behind, Minjun pulled ingredients from the refrigerator. It was enough to feed more than a dozen people.

"Why did you buy so much? Were you planning to stay in New York for a long time?"

Minjun replied without changing his expression.

"...I stocked up heavily to entertain guests. People who come to see me rarely want to eat out."

"Are you really that good?"

"It's breathtaking."

Then, a mental wave flowed out that the dragon couldn't hear. It was a lament from the Frying Pan, filled with exasperation.

=Wow... Your conscience...=

*

Sizzle! Hiss!

Standing in the kitchen, Minjun's hands moved busily. Kentius sat at the dining table and waited at leisure, giving off a let's see what you can do attitude. He crossed his arms and dangled a leg.

His expression gradually changed. As the smell of cooking filled the residence's kitchen, his eyes grew clouded. He instinctively uncrossed his arms and lowered his leg. Then, he straightened his slanted posture, sitting with his back pressed firmly against the chair.

Minjun noticed the change as well. Unlike when he stir-fried dog food in Korea, he was cooking with genuine care. The menu was steak. The garnish was roasted vegetables. Instead of mixing everything together and frying it, he was grilling them separately in proper sequence. He felt he needed to be a bit cautious in front of a dragon—after all, form is temporary, but class is permanent. He worried that if the meal looked like dog food, it might break the immersion of the brainwashing.

"Here, it's ready."

As soon as the first plate was served, the dragon lunged at it frantically. It was an unbelievable action for a dragon who was supposed to maintain his dignity. Kentius was already in a state where he lacked even the awareness of how he looked.

But this was not enough.

The Frying Pan rang in his mind.

=To be safe, you should use all the prepared ingredients. If you want to see the desired effect.=

'I know.'

Minjun hadn't prepared an excessive amount of ingredients for nothing. A dragon was a dragon. It required a larger investment than feeding those assemblymen.

He focused on cooking again, placing each Frying Pan's worth on the table the moment it was done. Kentius devoured it frantically with bloodshot eyes. Watching him, Minjun felt a warmth in his chest and a swelling sense of pride. 'Yeah, eat up. When I saw you guys in Hong Kong, you were too skinny. So skinny I couldn't even sell you anywhere.'

After Kentius polished off dozens of steaks, his expression had completely changed.

Seeing that, the Frying Pan spoke confidently.

=Now, that dragon will place absolute trust in the Agent's words and show unconditional goodwill.=

It had decided to fix its title for Minjun as 'Agent', just as before. The reaction had been far too poor after its previous "Dad!" remark. Furthermore, the Frying Pan judged that provoking its creator's temper was unwise. If he could create it, he could likely do many other things as well.

'You mean he'll trust and follow me?'

=Yes. From now on, he'll believe you even if you point at shit and call it gold, and he'll clap even if you take a dump!=

'...No, why use that example of all things.'

Even though this was a meal prepared for brainwashing, hearing those words in front of it was unpleasant. It had always been a mental entity with bizarre tastes, but it seemed to have gotten a little weirder lately.

'Then, shall we test it?'

Minjun pulled out a chair and sat facing the dragon. At that, the one who had just chewed and swallowed the final steak begged.

"More! Please, give me more! I can't take it. Bring more! Please... more!"

Kentius's voice cracked roughly.

Staring at him, Minjun spoke firmly.

"Eating too much of this is bad for your body. Stop eating."

"...!"

The dragon's expression changed in a flash.

The expression he'd worn just a moment ago—the desperation of feeling like he'd die of thirst and hunger if he didn't tear into another piece of meat—vanished.

An almost unbelievable change.

Returning to a peaceful and placid face in an instant, Kentius said,

"Ah, is that so? If you say so, it must be right. I'll stop eating."

In truth, it was nonsense. A dragon could easily digest that amount even while in a Polymorph state.

But Kentius accepted it obediently. He even showed a reaction of submitting to Minjun's 'instructions'.

'It's quite useful, huh?'

Grinning, Minjun decided to run a few more tests.

"By the way, did you know?"

Minjun placed the Frying Pan he was holding onto the table. Anyone could see it had only one handle.

"This looks like a single-handled pan, right? It's not. If you look closely, there are two handles."

Kentius marveled.

"Really? I can't see the other handle at all. To think there is a transparent metal in the world that can fool a dragon's eyes!"

"And the meat you ate until now, you thought it was beef, but it's actually ghoul meat."

"What?! But wait, how does it not have even a hint of a rotting stench? You are truly an outstanding chef."

Whenever a discrepancy arose between his own senses and Minjun's words, he concluded that his senses were wrong. Minjun raised the intensity a bit. He even employed self-deprecating lies to create extreme situations.

"Let me make one more confession. I am a dragon."

"Red? Black? I knew it. No wonder you weren't nervous in front of me."

"You are actually a woman."

"I've never felt any confusion about my identity before... I should move out soon. My current Lair is too small for me to lay eggs myself."

"This world is the dream of the gods. They say all dimensions will be destroyed when they wake from their slumber."

"This is a disaster. Why are the Ancient Dragons just spectating this crisis? I must convene the Balaur Council immediately. A Dragon Heart isn't the problem right now! Shouldn't we take measures so they never wake up again?! There are still so many things I haven't acquired yet. What will I do if the world ends before then!"

"But there's no need to worry. There are people striving to keep them from waking."

"Ah! Is that so? What a relief. If you think it's fine, it really must be fine."

"..."

The dragon who had been terrified and startled just seconds ago calmed down as if by magic the moment Minjun told him to relax.

Minjun saw absolute trust and psychological dependence there.

It felt as though he had become a cult leader. Without self-reflective consideration, scientific evidence, worries about feasibility, or logical inquiry, the dragon blindly believed Minjun's words to be the absolute truth.

'That's enough experimenting.'

Minjun decided to drive the wedge in.

"From now on, answer everything I ask truthfully. It doesn't matter who you made what promise to beforehand. Even if you swore an oath in draconic, my questions take priority from this moment on. Do you understand?"

Minjun's instructions were interpreted in Kentius's mind as absolute discipline, morality, and truth.

The dragon nodded. Without a shred of doubt.

"I will do so."

Minjun asked.

"What is the method to evade the special gift tax? Who told you about it?"

"I don't know the method myself. Inais told me. She said there is a way."

Inais.

The answers to the questions Minjun had been wondering about were all out.

'That woman?'

Minjun recalled the dragon who arrived in Hong Kong latest among the bereaved family, weeping sorrowfully.

Inais was the live-in partner who had most recently laid Rod's child.

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