Yokai Come to the Countryside Café

Chapter 6: The Second Guest Is a Raccoon Dog (3)

“Waaaah! You tricked me! You said I’d get to eat tonkatsu, but you tricked me!”

“I'm sorry. But you are still going to eat tonkatsu.”

“Waaaah! I haven’t eaten it yet!”

“I’ll eat it soon, really soon. I’ll make it right away.”

On the way back, I comforted the sobbing raccoon dog so much I don’t even remember how I drove home.

To make matters worse, there were no tonkatsu shops open in the morning, so I reluctantly went to the supermarket and bought refrigerated tonkatsu and cooking oil.

I hadn’t slept a wink last night and ended up frying tonkatsu from the moment morning broke—I was the one ready to cry.

“Here, sit and watch this while I make it.”

I seated the sniffling raccoon dog at the window table and played a video.

Just as the sunlight streamed through, warming my favorite spot, the raccoon dog, tears forgotten, became completely absorbed in the video.

rustle rustle –

One by one, the tonkatsu ingredients I grabbed in a hurry from the plastic bag were brought up onto the kitchen stage.

A pack of raw pork loin tonkatsu without any morning discount tag,

cabbage and dressing and cooking oil,

and, with a guilty conscience, I splurged on high‑end tonkatsu sauce.

Considering I’d dashed around the supermarket grabbing whatever I could, it was a respectable haul.

I even considered waiting until lunchtime when the tonkatsu shops opened and ordering delivery.

But that was never going to happen. In this remote area, the only place that delivered was the jokbal shop. It’s so isolated, administrative districts feel irrelevant.

Besides, hearing such pitiful sobbing, I didn’t have the courage to ask them to wait until lunch.

In the end, I even took the day off and started cooking this extravagant breakfast.

Of course, I’m a model tenant who normally has no interest in cooking. At most I’d cook instant noodles or ham over a gas flame, and even then I’d eat out most of the time because washing dishes is a hassle.

But it’s okay now.

In this wonderful era, you can learn to make tonkatsu in no time with a YouTube video... Ah!

(Today’s special large‑sized tonkatsu mukbang~ Let’s get started~)

I forgot one thing.

My phone, which I’d intended to use to watch the YouTube video, was already occupied calming the raccoon dog’s mood.

“Is it ready?”

“No, you’d go faster if you helped. Want to help?”

“But I’ve never made food before…”

“It’ll be fine since we’re doing it together.”

That nicely packaged statement, “I’m in the same boat as you,” slipped out effortlessly.

“Then I’ll help!”

‑tap‑

The raccoon dog’s dangling leg lightly tapped the floor.

Its plump foot, with claws trimmed just as round, made an adorably cute sound with every step.

“We’ll follow what’s shown on screen. So hold it up where I can see it well. Got it?”

“I’ll hold it so it’s visible!”

I naturally switched the YouTube video to the tonkatsu cooking one and gave it to it again.

(First, we’ll introduce the tonkatsu ingredients! First is cooking oil and pork loin for tonkatsu...)

“This way I can see well!”

“That’s it.”

Its front paws raised high like it was standing at attention were so cute I absent‑mindedly petted its head a few times, then we began preparing our slightly late breakfast.

“They said to use a lot of cooking oil!”

“Shall we pour it generously then?”

Because it had caused me some guilt and was so helpful, the assistant’s advice was absolute.

While I took out a pot and unwrapped the tonkatsu from the plastic, it repeated the parts I missed like a parrot, preventing a few major mistakes.

Thinking it’s just tonkatsu, I could have splashed some oil and fried it carelessly. But after tricking me and even making me take an injection, such a mediocre tonkatsu wouldn’t cut it.

The pot filled with oil that would never be reused today. And when I could feel the right amount of heat on my hand, I carefully slid the patties into the pot.

‑sizzle –

“Ooh! That’s the scene we were just watching!”

“Careful, don’t get too close.”

Drawn by the savory smell of cooking meat, the raccoon dog kept inching toward the pot. I stopped it with one hand and flipped the patty again and again, and before long, a perfectly golden‑brown tonkatsu was taking shape.

“Elder, they’ll be arriving soon.”

“I know.”

The gukmiho answered indifferently when I softly said that, just in case the elder had fallen asleep.

“Will the café owner really give in? He might just get annoyed and sell the building again, don’t you think?”

“It’s a free‑obtained building; I doubt he’d do that.”

“But it was bought much cheaper than market value, so I’m not entirely sure. If he sold and left now, he’d still have 100 to 200 million won leftover.”

‘If that happens, it’d all be for nothing.’

Among the few high‑ranking officials in the National Intelligence Service, Director Baek Mahyeon was one. And the gukmiho, who respectfully called him “Elder,” was a divine being who had lived through the Three Kingdoms era and for countless centuries beyond.

Not only that, but a grateful deity who had lent miraculous power multiple times to prevent cursed nations from falling.

You couldn’t dare question whether such an Elder’s plan could fail.

If the café owner really ended up selling the house as he feared, then they would face endless harassment under the excuse that the coffee wasn’t right.

Not just him, who wouldn't bow to any ordinary bureaucrat unless they were a minister-level official, but even the staff under him.

But unfortunately, the scene inside the café they confirmed after parking far away seemed to be unfolding in a completely unexpected direction.

Thanks to the café's semi-open kitchen, the image of the café owner and the raccoon dog happily making something together was reflected in the window.

It didn’t match the scenario the gumiho had so confidently claimed.

“The café owner doesn’t seem troubled at all. It looks like your plan has failed, Elder.”

“What? Let me see!”

“Elder, don’t you see well even without something like that?”

“You think a guy who’s left Shinan lives in such a naive place? If I use divine power wrong in front of him, I might get exposed instead.”

The gumiho snatched the binoculars from Baek Mahyeon, who had just pulled them from his coat, and adjusted the lens back and forth, peering into the café before lowering them gently.

Was it the close-up from the binoculars? Or was it because he had kept his eyes closed for a long time on the way here?

The gumiho’s vision blurred.

And through that hazy view, a long-buried memory floated up.

A mountain village at the break of dawn.

Even in the rugged mountain range where no one would think people lived, a small thatched-roof house stood alone.

Thin smoke like a mirage rose through the gaps of the roughly woven straw roof, signaling it was mealtime.

– creeaak.

With a creaking hinge, a young woman opened the door from the kitchen where the smoke came out.

She looked around restlessly as if searching for someone and then cupped her hands to her mouth, calling out loudly.

“Geum-ah! Geum-ah! Ugh, it’s mealtime, where did you go this early? Geum-ah!”

How far did her voice echo into the deep valley?

Soon, from the dense forest, a youthful voice with clumsy pronunciation returned.

“Mom!”

It must have been the child called Geum.

But something seemed off for a child.

The child wore ill-fitting, loose clothes due to poverty, but the arms, legs, and face exposed through the oversized fabric were covered in golden fur.

Something non-human awkwardly dressed like a person.

Yet the child called Geum walked precariously along the mountainside on two feet, not four, balancing a water jar as big as themselves on their head.

“You’ll hurt yourself, brat! Put that jar down!”

“It’s okay. I’m… ngh, almost there.”

– thud thump.

The child fell just a few steps short of their destination.

“Aigoo, I told you you’d get hurt. Now you’re soaked.”

“Waaah! I was so close!”

The water carefully drawn from the stream had spilled entirely, and the child sobbed with heartbreak.

The woman forcibly pulled the child up.

Their already ragged clothes were now soaked and dirtied further from tumbling on the ground.

But the child, instead of brushing off the dirt, only stared at the spilled jar and cried miserably.

“Stop it!”

“Stop…”

“What did mom tell you?”

“Boys, sniffle, shouldn’t cry.”

“That’s right. Shall we go in now? It’s still cold, so wrap yourself tightly in the blanket.”

At her words, while wiping the child’s body roughly with her skirt hem, the child shook his head fiercely.

It was meant as a firm refusal, but it looked more like a wet puppy shaking off water—drops like morning dew dotted the woman’s clothes and face.

“Are you going to go draw more water again? That’s enough. Your father will bring some back while gathering firewood. Come on, mom has to cook, so go inside now.”

She patted the child’s butt and nudged him toward the room.

But the child, with a runny nose and dripping wet, clung to her skirt and wouldn’t let go.

“Then I’ll help too! I’ll make barley rice, season greens, and…”

“All right, all right. Goodness, who did you take after to be this stubborn?”

“Mom! Hehehe.”

But they weren’t alike.

The woman looked like any ordinary housewife you’d see at a village laundry spot, while the golden-furred child with pointy ears and a long snout looked nothing like her.

They didn’t share blood—there was a clear difference in species.

Yet the way they smiled at each other mirrored the same kind of affection.

The woman stroked the child’s head and went back into the kitchen, sticking closely to the child who carried an armful of unused ladles and fire pokers.

“Elder?”

“Hm?”

The gumiho opened his faintly closed eyes in response to Baek Mahyeon’s repeated call.

“Geez, when you live long, you’re supposed to die, but memories like this always come flooding back.”

It seemed the long-forgotten memory, buried deep in the ages, had suddenly returned with vivid clarity as if it were yesterday.

“What will you do?”

Baek Mahyeon skipped the customary question, “What are you talking about?”

Because he saw clear tear streaks on the Elder’s face, something he had never seen while serving him all these years.

An awkward silence.

Afraid the gumiho might sniffle and reveal his emotions, he opened the door first and stepped out of the car.

“Let’s go in. If he’s making food for that raccoon dog, he’ll at least make me a cup of coffee. You come too. I’ll be staying a while today.”

“I have an afternoon schedule, so I’ll be leaving soon.”

“You rascal! You always said you could handle everything with calls and the internet, yet now you’re suddenly busy? No excuses, just follow me.”

“I’m not only busy now, Elder. I’m always busy.”

The two bickered as they made their way toward the café, which now smelled deliciously of oil.

The gumiho’s steps toward the café, filled with fond memories, somehow looked lighter than usual.

But Baek Mahyeon told himself it must have been his imagination and quietly followed behind.