Opening Day
What a miserable sight.
That was my first impression as I rattled into the Food Truck Zone in my clattering little vehicle.
It was a Thursday. Even allowing for a weekday, there was barely a soul around. The few people who did pass by showed no interest whatsoever. Years ago, when food trucks were still a fad, they might have at least drawn a glance. That fad had long since faded. A Food Truck Zone built more than five years earlier was, to passersby, nothing more than another ordinary piece of the everyday landscape.
Well, I more or less expected this.
The spot I had chosen was one of the many zones thrown up in a rush while food trucks were still trendy. Local governments had raced each other to open them, and doing real business here was always going to be an uphill fight.
Local government. Figures.
People only glanced at the trucks as they walked past.
Doesn't matter. First, just open for business and see.
I had already accounted for this. A man who had survived the apocalypse was not about to fall into despair over something so minor.
No wonder there were empty slots even for weekend reservations. This is a hard place to make a living.
I refused to despair and instead studied the passersby, sizing up potential customers and thinking through what else I needed to prepare. My hands stayed busy the whole time, clattering through the quick prep work a food truck demanded.
Prep complete.
"All right. Let's get started."
Prep was finished. Next came the actual opening. From everything I had prepared over the past three days, I took out the single item that had cost me the most money: the sidewalk sign. I plugged it in and set it upright.
Ramenkase
The powered signboard glittered to life.
Ramenkase. Put simply, it was omakase — the chef's choice — with ramen grafted onto the word. The name carried exactly the attitude I wanted: no matter who walked up, I would serve them whatever I decided. The main dish was ramen. The toppings were mine to choose. Menu and method were both completely straightforward.
My reason for picking this cuisine was simple.
Stick to what people actually eat.
Ramen was what I had eaten most often in this life, so I was used to it. In my previous life, it was the kind of factory-made food you could never get your hands on. Even years after the world turned into an apocalypse, the memory of how precious mass-produced food had become still hit hard. In a way, the choice itself had been forged by memory.
Anyway. That was how Ramenkase was decided.
The moment the sign went up, people started paying attention.
"Pfft. Ramenkase? What even is that?"
"Dude. Omakase's trendy these days, so now they're sticking it on ramen too."
"Kinda fun, though? Should we try it?"
It wasn't positive interest. But the fact that I had sparked any interest at all mattered to me.
One person. Just one person has to come and taste it, and that's enough.
I was confident. Whoever it was, once they ate, I could turn that skepticism into belief.
"Come on, let's go. Ramen? Seriously. You step into the next alley and it's wall-to-wall good restaurants."
"Yeah?"
"Let's not fill up on junk."
"Right. Let's go."
"What should we eat, though?"
"Hey, wait. Looking at the ramen actually made me crave some."
"Ramen? Now that you mention it… snack-bar food, then?"
"Eh, not really. How about that Japanese ramen place over there?"
"Oh… ramen? Yeah, that works!"
Unfortunately, the opportunity slipped away. Not ramen — ramen, the Japanese kind. All I got was a pile of provocation.
Kids. Support local, would you?
This isn't working.
I sat in the food truck staring blankly for about thirty minutes. Plenty of attention — and not a single customer. Flies and empty seats. It was a strange experience for me. In the apocalypse, this never happened. Survivors swarmed before I even finished cooking. When people were about to starve to death, nobody had the luxury of being picky. Hand them anything that resembled food and they would wolf it down.
Now the situation was completely different. This wasn't the apocalypse. This was an age of abundance. That was the reality. Catching eyes alone clearly wasn't enough.
I took this too lightly. This isn't the apocalypse, but to me this place is still a hunting ground. I have to do it properly.
In my past life, the hungry came running even if I sat still. Here, even if my food was the best in the world, someone first had to eat it. I needed a way to draw people in. If this were a battle, I hadn't even managed to start one. I couldn't just lose and walk away empty-handed.
Do I have a way to pull customers? I've got skills for cooking and gathering ingredients, sure, but… hmm.
I turned it over in my head for a long time. The passersby who kept shooting me sidelong glances were prey — no, potential customers.
How did I draw prey in? Draw them in… wait.
Draw them in. That was the answer. Luckily, I already had an excellent hunting tool — or rather, an excellent way to bait customers.
"Activate Trap skill."
Activating skill: Trap
In the apocalypse, ingredients had to be gathered by hand. The Trap skill had been built for that — a skill for catching the monsters that would become cooking ingredients. I had used traps constantly. There were countless kinds: binding types to restrain savage enemies, lethal types designed to kill, and sustained types that stimulated the senses to keep drawing enemies in. From those, I built a sustained trap that targeted the sense of smell.
Nobody can resist a smell.
The trap activated at once. A thick aroma of ramen began to billow outward from the food truck, rich and insistent. That sharp, spicy ramen scent punched straight into the nose. The effect showed immediately.
"Sniff, sniff… what is that smell?"
"Huh?"
The closer people got to the truck, the more their noses twitched. One by one, they tracked the source of the scent.
"There! It's coming from that food truck!"
"Ramenkase?"
"What kind of ramen are they making that it smells like that?"
"Hey, should we try it?"
"We already said we were going over there."
"It's not like we made a reservation. Come on."
"Well… yeah. The smell is really good. Let's try it."
Welcome, one and all. People started flocking in.
Kang Jin-woo was one of any number of twenty-six-year-old job seekers. Unlike his usual self, he walked with his head hanging low. The whole way, his parents' voices from that morning kept ringing in his ears.
Jin-woo, it'll work out. Don't take it too hard.
Hang in there. You can do this. Whose son are you? Dad believes in you.
That was what he had heard after the rejection notice from a company that had actually given him an interview. Those words felt heavy. If they had piled on the usual nagging instead, he could at least have pushed back a little. Genuine encouragement only stacked the pressure higher and higher.
"Haa…"
He knew. Even this sighing was the complaint of someone who'd been lucky. This wasn't anything to make a fuss over — just one of those ordinary stories everyone had to live through at some point. He understood that better than anyone. Or so he had thought.
It's hard. No wonder my brother just kept sighing around this age… now I get it.
Being the one in the middle of it made his head spin. The path ahead felt blank. Still, he had to keep walking. Even if he couldn't land an interview right away, another certification would help — and the academy fees for those certifications…
Aah. Stop digging. Why am I like this? Kang Jin-woo, you're not that kind of guy.
If he just kept digging this hole, he would get nowhere. He needed a change of air. On purpose, he drew a deep breath to clear his head.
And then —
"Huh…? What is that?"
A dense fragrance flooded his nostrils so thickly it almost tingled. Before he knew it, the scent filled his nose completely. It was a familiar smell.
Ramen?
Was there a ramen place right next door? No. The aroma was coming from a food truck farther off.
What did they do to make the smell this strong?
He caught himself swallowing, and Kang Jin-woo let out a short laugh.
"Ah, whatever."
As if drawn by a spell, he half-ran toward the food truck.
Ramenkase
Ramenkase? Okay, the name alone passes. I'm actually looking forward to this.
The truck's name hit his particular taste dead-on. In front of it sat four seats like a small bar counter and two folding tables. Luckily, every seat was still empty. He set his bag on a bar stool and stepped up.
"Hello."
At the greeting, he lifted his head and found a clean-cut young man standing there. Around his own age, with a bright, easy smile that felt friendly. Just looking at him made a good impression.
"Hi. Don't places like this usually do the whole irasshaimase thing?"
"Ah, that's for ramen shops. As you can see, here—"
The owner pointed to stacks of instant ramen packets. The kind you saw in any supermarket — five varieties. Mild, spicy, and fire-chicken flavor seemed to be the main ones.
"Oh! Because it's a ramen place?"
"That's right. These are our base options."
"Ahh. Then I'll have… wait, what?"
Under the pile of ramen, a price was written: 5,000 won. Seeing it, Kang Jin-woo froze without meaning to.
What? It's just ordinary instant ramen. And it's five thousand won? That's expensive.
Prices had gone up everywhere, but this was still uncommon. A few hundred meters away at a convenience store, a cup ramen plus a triangle kimbap wouldn't even cost that much.
Maybe I should just eat somewhere else.
Backing out still felt strangely disappointing, as if the scent that had filled his nose was holding his feet in place. Even so…
A job seeker, and I'm thinking of splurging?
Five thousand won hit differently now than it had in his student days. He needed to save. Would eating this even change anything? He started to step back — and then a serious voice stopped him.
"Give it a try. If you don't like it, I'll refund you on the spot."
"No, even if it tastes bad, asking for a refund after eating is a little…"
"You're the first customer, so I'll take payment after. How about it?"
"Ah…"
More than the refund promise, it was the words first customer that snagged him. Looking around, no one else had sat down yet. The place looked like it had been set up in earnest for a real opening. At this rate, the whole day might go empty.
Ahem. He said I'm the first…
The guy looked about his age. Someone in a similar situation, trying to make something work. As a little show of support, this much was fine, wasn't it? Five thousand won for ramen was steep, but as a show of support, it wasn't bad money.
Yeah. Let's eat.
"All right, I'll try it. For toppings, green onions—"
"Ah, I choose the toppings. As you can see, this is Ramenkase."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
"Then go all out."
"Order received!"
It was a little odd, but the owner's hands never hesitated. He poured already-boiling water into a wide pot, and as the ramen came quickly to a rolling boil he dropped in the noodles and soup packet and asked,
"Is there anything you need right now?"
"Huh? Need something from ramen? Haha…"
Need. As if saying it out loud would change anything. He tried to brush it off, but the owner was surprisingly persistent.
"Ah, you just look a little worn out. Something that gives you strength would be good, right?"
"Well… strength would be nice, yeah?"
"Haha. Perfect. Eat this and you'll feel stronger."
And it was strange. Could eating ramen actually fill what you needed? It would fill the stomach a little, sure. But that was about it. He hadn't been expecting much to begin with.
If that was just a sales line… I think it already failed.
This guy might not be much of a businessman. Watching him, even ordinary conversation seemed a little awkward, and the atmosphere around him was oddly off — like someone who had spent a few years alone on an island and only just come back. Still, as the noodles softened, the rising aroma was genuinely good.
Then, just as it finished, he added several more toppings.
"What's that?"
"You're the first customer, so a few extra toppings on the house."
"Ah, thank you."
"Go ahead and try it."
The bowl he received was fairly unusual. A heavy scatter of green onions, and on top of that several cloves of what looked like braised garlic.
…Braised garlic? That's a little weird. Almost like a weird food challenge.
Jin-woo knew garlic was famous for restoring energy. Still, putting braised cloves on ramen felt off. Even as he thought it strange, he picked up his chopsticks.
I think I walked into something weird. Ugh. Eat fast and get out of here.
He scooped up a big bite of noodles and shoved them into his mouth.
Slurp—
In that instant.
"Oof…?"
Fireworks went off inside Jin-woo's head.