chapter 51
I could tell that my predecessors had worked hard. Surprisingly, within just a week of searching, I managed to find two more books left behind by Haetae.
But that wasn’t the real problem.
“Senior… which country are you even from…?”
If I couldn’t read the language, it was all useless!
I had assumed most of the predecessors would be from populous countries like India or China—that was my “logical” guess. But no.
The moment I saw words like “привіт” and “ดีใจที่ได้รู้จัก,” I realized something crucial.
Reincarnators don’t appear based on population ratio.
Regrettably, the nationalities of my Haetae seniors were incredibly diverse.
These days, I was constantly pulling my hair out.
One seemed to use Cyrillic script, so maybe Russian, Ukrainian, or Bulgarian.
The second had symbols that looked like pictures—probably Thai. Of course, I couldn’t read a single word. That was entirely my own ignorance.
Apparently, my frustration showed on my face, because Baek Juseon—who hadn’t visited in a while—suggested we develop a new snack together.
I immediately agreed. Sometimes, you just need that kind of mental refreshment.
“Do you remember the baekbingyu Hyeon invented before?”
“Of course.”
Baekbingyu—literally “white ice milk”—was basically ice cream.
With my past-life knowledge and Baek Juseon’s divine obsession with food, we had already created several culinary masterpieces:
Strawberry latte with extra ice, cheese tteokbokki, fresh cream, rice cakes filled with cream, pizza, and croissants inspired by pastries.
Ice cream was one of those successes.
Since we had already mastered making fresh cream, the next step—ice cream—had gone smoothly.
“Hyeon said mixing it with gwago (fruit paste boiled with sugar) would taste great, remember?”
“Yes. And green tea too. If you blend in finely ground green tea powder, it not only looks pretty but also balances sweetness with a pleasant bitterness.”
“I even cut up some honeycomb and placed it on top.”
“What—!”
Her creativity was no joke.
Sweet dairy and honey? A match made in heaven. Yet she still looked unsatisfied, as if she could taste a higher realm of flavor that we hadn’t reached.
“I just feel like there’s still a supreme flavor out there. I don’t want to stop here.”
“I think I know what you mean.”
“Right? What could be more important in life than the joy of good food?”
Moved by her passion, I found myself completely forgetting the stress from the camellia books. My head felt lighter, my shoulders relaxed.
“Magnificent! We could present this to His Majesty himself.”
“Really?”
“I’ve lived long, but I’ve never tasted something so absurdly delicious.”
My grandmother pointed with her spoon at the parfait—the result of today’s collaboration with Baek Juseon.
Honestly, using ice cream as a base wasn’t hard. You could eat it with crispy yakgwa (honey cookies), or serve it atop patbingsu (shaved ice dessert).
But Baek Juseon wasn’t satisfied with just that.
Impressed by her ambition, I introduced her to the eternal first love of desserts—the Parfait, the origin of indulgence itself.
The long, transparent glass—so essential to a parfait—was easy for us to make.
After all, we were both sorcerers. Together, we crafted elegant glass-like cups out of clear ice.
Pretty, durable, and the ice cream wouldn’t even melt—perfect.
Layer by layer, we stacked ice cream, crispy maejakgwa crumbs, and sweet fruit jam boiled with sugar for preservation, creating our masterpiece.
“You’re using magic… for this?”
Grandmother let out a helpless laugh.
I giggled and took a spoonful. Delicious.
I sent one each to Mom and Dad, Uncle and Aunt, and my cousins too. I wanted to make more, but the ingredients were scarce—dairy products like milk and cream were hard to come by here.
So instead, I made lots of fruit bingsu for everyone in the household, with tiny scoops of ice cream on top.
“Your face looks so much brighter now.”
Unconsciously, I touched my soft cheek.
“Don’t overwork yourself. Go out and get some fresh air sometimes.”
“Yes, Grandma.”
With her gentle pat on my shoulder, I happily finished the last spoonful of parfait from my ice cup.
The fourth Haetae book I found turned out to be a novel.
It was supposed to be a famous romance story, but when I looked closer, it was just Gone with the Wind with all the names changed to fit this world’s style.
Then I noticed the words embedded in the illustration-like symbols and almost spat out my drink.
“¡Hola, amigo!”
This time—it was Spanish.
Should I be glad I could at least read the greeting? Or mourn that it was the only thing I could read? I let out a half-mad laugh.
This was just cruel.
Seniors… we had English, the world’s universal language. Why are you all such passionate patriots?
“Uuuugh.”
I sighed deeply and flipped to the next book, not expecting much.
Some time later—
“…Se—”
With trembling hands, I quickly cast a barrier spell.
Once I confirmed the spell had worked properly, I shouted at the top of my lungs:
“Long live King Sejong!!”
Aaaaaaah!
“Hurray for Hangul! Hurray for Korean independence!”
I found it! At long last, I found it—the book left behind by a Korean Haetae senior!
I held the Hangul-covered book high in triumph.
As the words flowed smoothly before my eyes, I reflected.
The seniors were right. Forget English—patriotism was the way to go.
I was so happy I jumped around for a while before I finally calmed down enough to sit and read.
“Hoo… ha… hoo… ha…”
I couldn’t read it right away; my heart was pounding too fast.
I took a deep breath and started from the beginning.
The book was a cookbook.
As expected from the nation of delivery food and mukbang—the gourmet capital of the world.
Titled A Hundred Meat Dishes, the first page had a poem about camellias, and throughout the pages were patterns embedded with Hangul text. The more I read, the wider my mouth opened.
“Haetae juniors, listen well. If you collect all ten books in the Camellia series, you’ll learn the location of the Haetae Gathering Place.
If you haven’t thrown away the books, there should be colored paper at the front. Tear them out, stack them, and hold them up to sunlight—the spell will activate and reveal the location.”
Goosebumps rose all over my arms.
A gathering place? There was a gathering place?
But I only had five books so far. I needed five more.
“Also, keep the torn pages and bring them with you to the gathering place. We’ll add more sheets and release them to the world again.”
Reading that far, I finally understood why the Haetae had written their books in their native languages.
That way, the people of this world couldn’t read them—it was like a cipher. And anyone like me who kept collecting books just to find one they could read would naturally end up gathering all ten.
“Wow.”
As expected of the Haetae—a species second to none in intelligence.
The Korean Haetae senior was kind enough to answer many of the questions that had always bothered me.
Why did so many Haetae create merchant guilds using technologies or brands from their past lives—like ElXna or Xsung?
The reason was simple: to fight evil, you need power—and money is power.
You can’t just charge in blindly every time. To confront corrupt people in power, brute strength wasn’t enough.
This senior, who had been born poor, said it had been incredibly difficult to fight evil without wealth.
Because the world is cruel—it listens to those who have, not those who don’t.
In that sense, I was a very lucky puppy.
I was born as the precious daughter of the Hyun family, surrounded by good people.
Once my true identity was known, many worked to protect me and help me grow strong. Thanks to them, I survived the most dangerous period and even managed to capture villains.
In a way, I was like a Haetae who had won the lottery.
But most Haetae weren’t so fortunate. To fight those in power, they needed at least some wealth. So they formed guilds or used their knowledge from previous lives to make a living.
“I wasn’t from a STEM background, so it was hard. Never thought I’d say this, but… I’m sorry for being a liberal arts major, even in my next life.”
Ah… senior…
Judging by my sigh, I must have been a liberal arts student too in my past life.
When will the day come when we liberal arts folks can live without apologizing for it?
Sadly, the Korean Haetae who wrote that cookbook had tried to start a merchant guild but failed.
All the easy, low-investment businesses had already been taken by earlier Haetae, and without any special skills, he’d gone into the food trade instead.
By day, he ran a restaurant; by night, he hunted villains.
Occasionally, he’d visit the Haetae gathering place to plan major operations—his life story was more thrilling than any novel.
And then, the final page.
“If a young Haetae happens to find this—don’t ever wait for the villain to grow stronger before you act.”
I paused, eyes on the small Hangul text at the corner.
“Remember what we learned in our past lives: a small flame must be put out while it’s still small. Prevention is the best cure.”
Unlike the earlier factual tone, these words sounded like he was speaking directly to me.
“Never forget—we are Haetae, the ones who hunt down and devour the flames of evil,
not those who wait for fires to start.”
For some reason, that sentence burned itself into my mind like a brand.
