translator: xiin
editor: kara
After the entertainment game, the closing ceremony ended in a lively and hilarious manner. This segment of the provincial competition was finally officially over. The contestants packed their bags and prepared to go back home to find their respective mothers.
That evening, Tyron went into the A-League offices to finish the paperwork and pick up his virtual name card that symbolized his qualification for the national competition before quickly returning home.
Victor was making food, and it was a rare occasion where he had rolled up his sleeves and made a major event of it.
The smooth microwave stove held a pot that was simmering soup, and dessert was being baked in the oven. Victor worked on both sides, and the AI housekeeper, Athena, reminded him on what needed to be done at any time so that he didn’t have to worry about the recipes, leaving Victor free to absently think about what he’d seen in the provincial competition.
When he thought of how Tyron had proposed on the spot after winning the championship, Victor happily hummed two phrases of a tune, almost dancing where he stood while holding a spatula, before asking Athena to help him prepare black bone chicken soup.
After a while, Victor thought about how the old antique now had many more CPs after the competition, and his face became long. He found another pan to make ribs and watermelon in.
After a while longer, Victor thought of the entertainment match again and how the great demon king had actually been scared away by five of ‘him’. He was overjoyed and sniggered to himself with his hands on the chopping block, happily asking Athena to make potatoes in the oven in the old antique’s favorite style.
––The things that the old antique liked were very old indeed. Tyron always treated potatoes as the staple food. Although he wasn’t picky about what he ate, he didn’t cover up his living habits, and he had a little tendency that was similar to that of the Westerners in the Middle Ages; he stuffed potatoes with all kinds of things and baked them. Sometimes he used beans; sometimes it was bacon; sometimes it was turkey breast.
As Victor thought about Tyron, he kept thinking that he was really, really cute.
A while after that, he thought about how the great demon king had used his wings to ‘pull’ the female broadcaster close, and his face turned dark again, so he made braised popcorn.
When Tyron came back from outside, he tossed the qualification card for the national championships that countless people couldn’t even touch into a craft wooden cup in the middle of the table, where it shook two times and ended up at an angle.
Tyron went into the kitchen, where he saw Victor wearing a small apron. This was a very rare thing. He moved left and right to see more of it and wanted to go up and hug him.
However, Victor wriggled away and dodged.
After a while, it was time for the braised popcorn to come out––Victor felt endlessly guilty about it and waved the spatula to drive Tyron away, “Don’t watch, go sit over there. I’ll feed you later.”
Tyron was expressionless, but he couldn’t help reaching out to stroke his waist before turning away.
A moment later, the master assassin sat down in his exclusive seat and listened to the sounds in the kitchen. He felt something that he hadn’t felt for a long time––the goal of being a ’plain, ordinary man at home’ had been realized, and he was very satisfied as he opened up the communicator to go online and play.
This was the so-called ‘from thrift to luxury was easy, but going from luxury to thrift was hard’. The old antique had now learned to surf the internet and play with all kinds of media.
Lf olgra ibbxfv ja atf cfkr jybea atf qgbnlcmlji mbwqfalalbc, fcafgajlcwfca wjamtfr, jcv cjalbcji mtjwqlbcrtlqr: Qtlmt mtjwqlbc afjw tjv gec boo ab qijs UNS jcv tjv yffc rmbivfv ys atf lcrajcmf mbwwjcvfg, ktlmt mbcafrajca tjv kbgc j wjrx, mijlwlcu atja atflg ubji kjr ab yfmbwf atf ugfja vfwbc xlcu, Yvlc, jcv yf xcbkc jr ‘Olaaif Yvlc’, jcv atfgf kjr jirb cfkr jybea Njcalmb yibklcu eq lc jcufg jujlc…
There was no need to mention the extremely perceptive netizens from the interstellar era, even Tyron could tell that every time Old Friend was beaten, suffered losses, or lost the game, Vantico would explode. Every time someone bullied Old Friend, Vantico would jump up and pick on them, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d gotten even.
In the previous entertainment match, Old Friend was the first to die, and Tyron had really given the other side no consideration at all. As expected, Vantico became so mad that he kept issuing challenges for the next three days.
Tyron didn’t even bother to forward his message. He instead casually updated a status message of his own: [Have you jumped around enough? The real chapter will begin at the National Championships.]
The netizens: “Hahahahaha! The great demon king finally replied to his provocation. Vantico’s ego must have gotten bigger over these past two days!”
“I actually saw a little bit of evil doting in Odin’s words!! What should I do!?”
“What should you do? Don’t worry! Join our ‘Four Vantico’ cult!”
Tyron: “……”
When Tyron saw this, he looked back towards the kitchen and thought about how Victor was still cooking for him. He felt that he needed to do something; at the very least, he had to suppress the arrogance of these shameless cults.
So, he flipped through the super, super long list of messages and saw something that a fan had sent over, forwarding it.
[ Odin: Oh // DailyUpdate6000WordShorts: Developed two new cocktails today. I call them ‘Great Demon King’ and ‘Little Representative’, everyone’s welcome to give them a try! [Photo of two cocktails] ]
Boom! The fans exploded!
This was the first time that Odin had ever forwarded a blog from a fan!
The poster himself felt like he’d finally seen the Emperor’s little daughter after being in the palace for 36 years; he’d suddenly gotten lucky one day! How should he describe this feeling? It was like the sky was spinning, and the earth was turning. Double coolness!
That night, he excitedly sent a few more messages out to express his shivering excitement but was then horrified to discover that his mediocre shop was now flooded with a huge amount of orders, enough for three hundred years of hard work.
The people who felt even more awesome were those who believed in the Lord Four x Representative-kun CP. They’d been caught off guard and even caught a whiff of immortal air––
In the past, when they supported their CP, it had been blood and corpses everywhere. Yet ever since Odin had personally carried them into becoming the official CP, they could wave the War God’s big banner and were invincible. It was also an invincible addiction.
Tyron tossed his communicator to the side and felt that he was worthy of any reward that Victor might give him.
He was just thinking about it when Victor called him over for dinner.
Today’s dishes: Black chicken soup, ribs stewed with watermelon, potato pie, and braised popcorn.
Tyron: “……”
He stared at these dishes and pondered for a while. He suspected that he might be too much of an old antique to understand these interstellar people’s trends.
Victor was sweating internally from guilt when he saw Tyron stretch out his chopsticks and pick up a piece of watermelon, eating it as though nothing was amiss.
Victor: “……”
Then, he saw Tyron’s eyes turn distracted for a moment before refocusing again two seconds later. He nodded and said, “The flavor is very special.”
Victor said, “Ha, haha, it’s home cooking. Not many people have experienced it, and I… just casually made it. If it doesn’t taste good, don’t eat it.”
After two bites of chicken soup, Tyron recovered and tried the braised popcorn, eating it calmly.
Victor: “……”
Tyron fell into a brief daze, then shoved a piece of potato into his mouth before coming back to life. His face was the same as usual, “Not bad.”
God knows he was already playing out a master assassin’s peak level of acting skills: He had to integrate! Integrate into interstellar society! This was their normal home cooking! He couldn’t show strange expressions or habits!!
“……”
Victor was struck dumb with awe. He wondered to himself if he’d actually accidentally figured out a new kind of dish?
In the evening, after the two had finished eating, Tyron leaned against the bed headboard and read a book.
The old antique used to read in the morning and exercise in the evening. This was because in the early ancient times, candles were more precious and also provided lighting that was too dark, making it easy to damage one’s eyesight, so they usually didn’t do any unnecessary reading after dark. Later, after he came into this world, Tyron realized that the interstellar people only exercised in the morning, and he quietly switched his reading and exercise time.
Reading paper books itself was quite an unusual habit, but it was an activity done at home in any case, and others wouldn’t suspect anything, so Tyron had kept the habit.
He was very quiet when he read books. Victor liked to lie beside him in bed while reading emails and dealing with matters.
After a while, Victor suddenly realized that the slight sound of turning the page had disappeared. He looked up and saw that the old antique had his head tilted back and his eyes closed, seemingly asleep.
Victor thought to himself: He’d won the entertainment game beautifully, but taking down ten with one wasn’t as simple as just saying it, and it must have been very tiring to plan and play at the same time…
Victor collected his book for him, turned off the lights, and leaned on his pillow to watch Tyron sleep.
Oh, how handsome.
.
Victor slowly propped himself up, knelt on the bed, and reached out towards Tyron’s thin lips.
Tyron frowned a little but didn’t move.
Victor became a little more daring, using his index and middle finger to slip in between those lips. He’d just felt a little moisture when Victor suddenly felt his back being pinched.
Tyron had extended his hand and wrapped it around Victor’s waist. His eyelids lifted lazily, then closed again indifferently.
Victor waited for a while and discovered that the other was only half-asleep and half-awake––and, that look of his just now was simply a look of encouragement!
Victor was suddenly aroused and completely unable to restrain himself. He leaned up to kiss Tyron’s open lips.
Tyron raised his eyelids again, his half-closed eyes looking at him as his hands lazily roamed his back, the way one would casually stroke an obedient domestic cat.
Victor kissed his small fangs, and they were so cute that he couldn’t extricate himself. The tip of his tongue rubbed against the sharp little tips, back and forth––when he felt that it was too itchy, he would press more heavily, and when it hurt, he would shrink back in grievance.
Alas, he hadn’t thought about how those little fangs would feel.
Those little fangs belonged to the devil, and the devil only wanted to bite down on this soft piece of meat and bully him until he cried.
Tyron listened to his impulse and actually bit down on him, but his right hand that was stroking Victor’s back slowed down, moved downwards, and pinched the lower part of his tailbone.
Victor was caught off guard, calling out in a low voice. Then, his own heart thumped: It’s over.
The devil narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.
……
There was a big orange on the bedroom table.
A really big orange.
An orange.
translator: xiin
editor: kara
After the entertainment game, the closing ceremony ended in a lively and hilarious manner. This segment of the provincial competition was finally officially over. The contestants packed their bags and prepared to go back home to find their respective mothers.
That evening, Tyron went into the A-League offices to finish the paperwork and pick up his virtual name card that symbolized his qualification for the national competition before quickly returning home.
Victor was making food, and it was a rare occasion where he had rolled up his sleeves and made a major event of it.
The smooth microwave stove held a pot that was simmering soup, and dessert was being baked in the oven. Victor worked on both sides, and the AI housekeeper, Athena, reminded him on what needed to be done at any time so that he didn’t have to worry about the recipes, leaving Victor free to absently think about what he’d seen in the provincial competition.
When he thought of how Tyron had proposed on the spot after winning the championship, Victor happily hummed two phrases of a tune, almost dancing where he stood while holding a spatula, before asking Athena to help him prepare black bone chicken soup.
After a while, Victor thought about how the old antique now had many more CPs after the competition, and his face became long. He found another pan to make ribs and watermelon in.
After a while longer, Victor thought of the entertainment match again and how the great demon king had actually been scared away by five of ‘him’. He was overjoyed and sniggered to himself with his hands on the chopping block, happily asking Athena to make potatoes in the oven in the old antique’s favorite style.
––The things that the old antique liked were very old indeed. Tyron always treated potatoes as the staple food. Although he wasn’t picky about what he ate, he didn’t cover up his living habits, and he had a little tendency that was similar to that of the Westerners in the Middle Ages; he stuffed potatoes with all kinds of things and baked them. Sometimes he used beans; sometimes it was bacon; sometimes it was turkey breast.
As Victor thought about Tyron, he kept thinking that he was really, really cute.
A while after that, he thought about how the great demon king had used his wings to ‘pull’ the female broadcaster close, and his face turned dark again, so he made braised popcorn.
When Tyron came back from outside, he tossed the qualification card for the national championships that countless people couldn’t even touch into a craft wooden cup in the middle of the table, where it shook two times and ended up at an angle.
Tyron went into the kitchen, where he saw Victor wearing a small apron. This was a very rare thing. He moved left and right to see more of it and wanted to go up and hug him.
However, Victor wriggled away and dodged.
After a while, it was time for the braised popcorn to come out––Victor felt endlessly guilty about it and waved the spatula to drive Tyron away, “Don’t watch, go sit over there. I’ll feed you later.”
Tyron was expressionless, but he couldn’t help reaching out to stroke his waist before turning away.
A moment later, the master assassin sat down in his exclusive seat and listened to the sounds in the kitchen. He felt something that he hadn’t felt for a long time––the goal of being a ’plain, ordinary man at home’ had been realized, and he was very satisfied as he opened up the communicator to go online and play.
This was the so-called ‘from thrift to luxury was easy, but going from luxury to thrift was hard’. The old antique had now learned to surf the internet and play with all kinds of media.
Lf olgra ibbxfv ja atf cfkr jybea atf qgbnlcmlji mbwqfalalbc, fcafgajlcwfca wjamtfr, jcv cjalbcji mtjwqlbcrtlqr: Qtlmt mtjwqlbc afjw tjv gec boo ab qijs UNS jcv tjv yffc rmbivfv ys atf lcrajcmf mbwwjcvfg, ktlmt mbcafrajca tjv kbgc j wjrx, mijlwlcu atja atflg ubji kjr ab yfmbwf atf ugfja vfwbc xlcu, Yvlc, jcv yf xcbkc jr ‘Olaaif Yvlc’, jcv atfgf kjr jirb cfkr jybea Njcalmb yibklcu eq lc jcufg jujlc…
There was no need to mention the extremely perceptive netizens from the interstellar era, even Tyron could tell that every time Old Friend was beaten, suffered losses, or lost the game, Vantico would explode. Every time someone bullied Old Friend, Vantico would jump up and pick on them, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d gotten even.
In the previous entertainment match, Old Friend was the first to die, and Tyron had really given the other side no consideration at all. As expected, Vantico became so mad that he kept issuing challenges for the next three days.
Tyron didn’t even bother to forward his message. He instead casually updated a status message of his own: [Have you jumped around enough? The real chapter will begin at the National Championships.]
The netizens: “Hahahahaha! The great demon king finally replied to his provocation. Vantico’s ego must have gotten bigger over these past two days!”
“I actually saw a little bit of evil doting in Odin’s words!! What should I do!?”
“What should you do? Don’t worry! Join our ‘Four Vantico’ cult!”
Tyron: “……”
When Tyron saw this, he looked back towards the kitchen and thought about how Victor was still cooking for him. He felt that he needed to do something; at the very least, he had to suppress the arrogance of these shameless cults.
So, he flipped through the super, super long list of messages and saw something that a fan had sent over, forwarding it.
[ Odin: Oh // DailyUpdate6000WordShorts: Developed two new cocktails today. I call them ‘Great Demon King’ and ‘Little Representative’, everyone’s welcome to give them a try! [Photo of two cocktails] ]
Boom! The fans exploded!
This was the first time that Odin had ever forwarded a blog from a fan!
The poster himself felt like he’d finally seen the Emperor’s little daughter after being in the palace for 36 years; he’d suddenly gotten lucky one day! How should he describe this feeling? It was like the sky was spinning, and the earth was turning. Double coolness!
That night, he excitedly sent a few more messages out to express his shivering excitement but was then horrified to discover that his mediocre shop was now flooded with a huge amount of orders, enough for three hundred years of hard work.
The people who felt even more awesome were those who believed in the Lord Four x Representative-kun CP. They’d been caught off guard and even caught a whiff of immortal air––
In the past, when they supported their CP, it had been blood and corpses everywhere. Yet ever since Odin had personally carried them into becoming the official CP, they could wave the War God’s big banner and were invincible. It was also an invincible addiction.
Tyron tossed his communicator to the side and felt that he was worthy of any reward that Victor might give him.
He was just thinking about it when Victor called him over for dinner.
Today’s dishes: Black chicken soup, ribs stewed with watermelon, potato pie, and braised popcorn.
Tyron: “……”
He stared at these dishes and pondered for a while. He suspected that he might be too much of an old antique to understand these interstellar people’s trends.
Victor was sweating internally from guilt when he saw Tyron stretch out his chopsticks and pick up a piece of watermelon, eating it as though nothing was amiss.
Victor: “……”
Then, he saw Tyron’s eyes turn distracted for a moment before refocusing again two seconds later. He nodded and said, “The flavor is very special.”
Victor said, “Ha, haha, it’s home cooking. Not many people have experienced it, and I… just casually made it. If it doesn’t taste good, don’t eat it.”
After two bites of chicken soup, Tyron recovered and tried the braised popcorn, eating it calmly.
Victor: “……”
Tyron fell into a brief daze, then shoved a piece of potato into his mouth before coming back to life. His face was the same as usual, “Not bad.”
God knows he was already playing out a master assassin’s peak level of acting skills: He had to integrate! Integrate into interstellar society! This was their normal home cooking! He couldn’t show strange expressions or habits!!
“……”
Victor was struck dumb with awe. He wondered to himself if he’d actually accidentally figured out a new kind of dish?
In the evening, after the two had finished eating, Tyron leaned against the bed headboard and read a book.
The old antique used to read in the morning and exercise in the evening. This was because in the early ancient times, candles were more precious and also provided lighting that was too dark, making it easy to damage one’s eyesight, so they usually didn’t do any unnecessary reading after dark. Later, after he came into this world, Tyron realized that the interstellar people only exercised in the morning, and he quietly switched his reading and exercise time.
Reading paper books itself was quite an unusual habit, but it was an activity done at home in any case, and others wouldn’t suspect anything, so Tyron had kept the habit.
He was very quiet when he read books. Victor liked to lie beside him in bed while reading emails and dealing with matters.
After a while, Victor suddenly realized that the slight sound of turning the page had disappeared. He looked up and saw that the old antique had his head tilted back and his eyes closed, seemingly asleep.
Victor thought to himself: He’d won the entertainment game beautifully, but taking down ten with one wasn’t as simple as just saying it, and it must have been very tiring to plan and play at the same time…
Victor collected his book for him, turned off the lights, and leaned on his pillow to watch Tyron sleep.
Oh, how handsome.
.
Victor slowly propped himself up, knelt on the bed, and reached out towards Tyron’s thin lips.
Tyron frowned a little but didn’t move.
Victor became a little more daring, using his index and middle finger to slip in between those lips. He’d just felt a little moisture when Victor suddenly felt his back being pinched.
Tyron had extended his hand and wrapped it around Victor’s waist. His eyelids lifted lazily, then closed again indifferently.
Victor waited for a while and discovered that the other was only half-asleep and half-awake––and, that look of his just now was simply a look of encouragement!
Victor was suddenly aroused and completely unable to restrain himself. He leaned up to kiss Tyron’s open lips.
Tyron raised his eyelids again, his half-closed eyes looking at him as his hands lazily roamed his back, the way one would casually stroke an obedient domestic cat.
Victor kissed his small fangs, and they were so cute that he couldn’t extricate himself. The tip of his tongue rubbed against the sharp little tips, back and forth––when he felt that it was too itchy, he would press more heavily, and when it hurt, he would shrink back in grievance.
Alas, he hadn’t thought about how those little fangs would feel.
Those little fangs belonged to the devil, and the devil only wanted to bite down on this soft piece of meat and bully him until he cried.
Tyron listened to his impulse and actually bit down on him, but his right hand that was stroking Victor’s back slowed down, moved downwards, and pinched the lower part of his tailbone.
Victor was caught off guard, calling out in a low voice. Then, his own heart thumped: It’s over.
The devil narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.
……
There was a big orange on the bedroom table.
A really big orange.
An orange.
