A War of Nerves

I headed out to the Food Truck Zone at first light to get ready for business.

If I wanted to open and close at the same time every day, I had to be diligent. That was the foundation of running a shop.

"Ingredients look good…"

I carefully arranged everything I'd prepped. I've got quite a spread now.

Over time, I'd added all sorts of toppings for Ramenkase. Getting ready took longer than it used to, but it made me happy. It meant I could serve that many more people. I could earn more, and be happier, too.

Ingredients ready.

Next came setting up the tables. It had been two weeks since the original two tables had grown to four.

I should start adding more tables soon. If I'm going to expand, it'd be nice to do it together with the coffee truck owner. Maybe I should talk to her about it?

There was still plenty of room to set out more tables. Plenty of space left in the Food Truck Zone.

Clack. Clack. Thud.

Thinking about how to fill the remaining space, I went on setting up tables. Around the third one, I felt a presence nearby.

Jinwoo? He's early today.

Figuring it was Jinwoo, who never missed the first-customer seat, I turned my head.

"Jinwoo, you—"

It wasn't him.

Standing in front of me was a big, heavily muscled man I'd never seen before. Both arms were covered in tattoos, and every strand of his hair was slicked straight back. The whole package radiated pure intimidation.

He raised one arm in a stiff, rigid gesture and said,

"Hey. You can't just go setting up tables however you please!"

"Excuse me?"

What he was pointing at was my section of the Food Truck Zone—specifically, the white line drawn to mark the boundaries. A line so faint it looked ready to disappear entirely.

"You only set up in the permitted area. Don't you see this line?"

"I see it, yes?"

"You see it? Then why are you setting up like that? Looking at it now, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you've way overstepped the line."

Overstepped the line?

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠checked, and he wasn't wrong. Expanding to four tables and spreading them out a bit had pushed me slightly past the boundary.

I went a few centimeters over.

About five or six centimeters.

"You've got to stick to the designated spots. You think it's fine to just go over like that?"

"…I'm sorry."

However minor, I was in the wrong. Until now, everyone had just let it slide. Crossing this faint little line didn't really hurt anyone. But rules were still meant to be followed.

There was never a time when rules mattered more than during the Apocalypse.

You couldn't think, Just me is fine. Once one person after another started breaking the rules, everything fell apart in no time. The chaos those people created had put us through hell more times than I could count. So keeping the rules was one of the principles I lived by.

Though if the other side crosses a line, I cross it right back.

Either way, I decided he had a point and apologized without a fuss. The big guy, who'd been working himself into a lather, suddenly changed his expression—like he'd thought he had me, then realized this wasn't how it was supposed to go. A flicker of disappointment showed through.

"Tch… You seem like someone who ought to know better. Do it right, yeah? Stick to the assigned spots."

"Yes. I'll do that."

"Good. I'll be watching from over there. Follow the Food Truck Zone rules, and… what's it… don't go acting too unprincipled, either."

"Unprincipled?"

Out of nowhere?

"Yeah, unprincipled. Look… ah, forget it."

"Hmm…"

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's nothing."

"Honestly. What a dud."

The big guy cut himself off mid-sentence.

This guy… there's something going on here.

Call it instinct. Looking closer, my crossing the line wasn't the real reason he was irritated. He never said the actual root of his anger. He'd come to settle that, and then I'd admitted fault so easily that he couldn't find anything to pick at. There was too much that didn't add up for it to be just my imagination.

Thinking about it, it is strange.

There was definitely a rule in the Food Truck Zone about not crossing the designated lines. But most people didn't know about it. More precisely, almost nobody knew the Food Truck Zone rules.

Who memorizes those if they don't actually run a truck here?

And that wasn't all. The looks he kept throwing my way were anything but ordinary. It was a look I knew well.

That's the look people give when they're fighting over hunting grounds.

The kind of energy that says the second something sticks, they're going to pick it apart. He'd only lost that edge because I'd admitted fault so readily and left him with nothing else to latch onto.

"…Anyway, do it right."

"Yes. I will."

The big man glared at me a while longer, then left.

For now, I'd let it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠go. Because I was intimidated by his size? As if. I already had a way to deal with this—using the very rules he'd thrown at me.

The timing's just about right, anyway.

The next day.

This should do it.

I came out even earlier than usual.

Clack. Clack.

I set the tables up right away. Not four this time—seven. Three went beside me, and I started setting the remaining four a little farther out.

That would have been impossible before. But not now.

Now it works.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I'd done it properly, by the book. There was a way.

As I was finishing the setup, I felt a presence. Figuring it was him, I steeled myself and turned around.

"Huh? It's you?"

"Hyung, 'it's you'? That stings a little. Am I not a customer?"

Jinwoo. Not the big guy.

Aw, I was looking forward to this.

I'd been ready to hit him with rules of my own, fair and square. This took a bit of the wind out of my sails.

Jinwoo, for the record, was sharp.

"But is something going on? The look you gave me just now was way scarier than usual."

"Different how?"

"Come on, something's up, right?"

"Nothing's up."

He was a good kid, but there was no need to tell him about that. Like he'd said, he was a customer.

Listening to a customer's troubles is fine. Dumping my own on them is not. It just puts a burden on them.

Talking about bad things with customers wasn't right. I wanted this place to bring people nothing but happiness. I didn't want to be the one loading them down. That was one of my principles.

I smoothly changed the subject.

"I'm just tense because I went bigger than usual today."

"Oh…! Yeah, I see that. Tables—one, two… seven? Whoa, that's a lot. You're really going all out, huh?"

"I felt bad making people stand in line."

"Man. You're a real boss now!"

Jinwoo stuck his thumb up. Thankfully, he'd bought it.

Business that day was fun, too.

Gotta feed him well.

Jinwoo. The first customer was always special. For him, I plated a special ramen topped with simmered garlic and green onion strips made from scallions I'd grown myself.

"Ahh… that's refreshing. This is the taste!"

Another clean plate. Jinwoo scraped up every last bit of seasoning left in the broth, then headed out.

Not long after, lunch hour hit.

"The tables multiplied?"

"Oh! We don't have to line up right away? Lucky-bucky!"

"Dude. Bucky is the fighting-game protagonist!"

"Shut up! Let's just go eat. I'm going first!"

People poured in. Taking payments, I directed them to their seats.

"Please take seat number seven. That's the first outer table over there."

"Got it!"

It was a different system from a regular restaurant, but it was the best way to fill every seat efficiently. The customers seemed to enjoy the assigned seating, too—like a little bit of food-truck romance.

Nice.

That gave me energy as I worked the register and boiled up ramen to match each person.

A particularly special customer came by as well—a regular.

"Welcome!"

"Ugh… one bowl today, too."

The office worker who'd become a regular after Jinwoo. This customer never missed a day, and every time he showed up he wore the face of a two-faced Janus—eager for the ramen on one side, and on the other, thinking he really shouldn't… That expression. So I privately nicknamed him the Two-Faced Janus Customer.

That face. It's something else.

Wearing two expressions at once. It was practically a magic trick. Not that I didn't understand. My ramen was special—I guaranteed that once you tasted it, you couldn't walk away. The one downside was the calories. With so many toppings piled on, it was a high-calorie dish by nature. Meaning every time he finished a special ramen, he put on a little more weight. By my eye, about two kilograms so far. And that clearly bothered him.

"Payment received. Today I'll make you a special ramen, just for you."

"A special ramen? Ugh… then that means more…!"

"Haha. Just wait a moment and I'll call you."

"Ugh… okay!"

Janus Regular's expression deepened further. A special! He looked more excited and, at the same time, more nervous. Clearly drowning in mixed feelings.

What to do about that.

I don't have a hobby of tormenting my customers.

I planned to meet that expectation in a different way—in a direction that would crack that Janus face right open. I'd already prepared a ramen that would lift both his anticipation and his worries in one go.

Just you wait.

Glug-glug—

I filled two pots with water, and in one of them I scattered the soup base first so the heat would come up faster. Up to that point, it was no different from any other ramen.

The most important part is different.

I put a real point of focus into this special ramen.

"Huh? Hyung, I've never seen that noodle before."

"You noticed?"

"I saw it when I was putting the bowls down."

Sharp-eyed Jinwoo. Setting dishes on the return counter, he'd spotted my secret ingredient first.

"What is that?"

"Konjac noodles."

"Huh? You can make noodles out of konjac?"

"Turns out you can. Weird, right?"

"Yeah. That's actually amazing?!"

Konjac noodles—noodles made from konjac, exactly as the name said. Using them cut the noodle calories down to nearly a tenth. Meaning you could eat your fill and the calories still dropped!

I still don't get it, personally.

For someone who'd lived with constant hunger in the Apocalypse, it was an ingredient that made no sense. But serving customers the best possible dish was my job. So I'd prepared konjac noodles.

Brrr—

The konjac noodles spread through the pot and began to cook. They loosened quickly and finished in no time.

"Ugh. But doesn't konjac have kind of a weird texture?"

"You already ate. Why are you still here?"

"Aww, this hyung is telling a customer to leave. Anyway, I'm right, aren't I?"

"There's a way around that."

Jinwoo had a point. Konjac noodles had a different texture from regular ones. The fix was simpler than you'd think.

I didn't put the noodles straight into the pot with the soup base.

"Watch this."

"Huh? Looking at it now, you were boiling them in two pots?"

"That's right."

The konjac noodles boiling in the other pot—that pot held the answer. What was in there wasn't plain water. It was salted water. I blanched the konjac noodles in that brine.

"Whoa, that looks hot."

"Still have to do it."

Sizzle—

I transferred the blanched konjac noodles into a prepared bowl of cold water and stirred. That killed the distinctive mushy konjac texture and brought out a springy firmness. Half the problem with konjac noodles, solved.

"Is that it?"

"Please. Like that would be enough."

I drained the rinsed noodles and put them into the pot with the soup base already in it.

Brrr—

The noodles mixed with the boiling soup water. One problem still remained.

Konjac noodles don't absorb well. So it's hard to get the broth flavor into them.

Unlike regular noodles, konjac didn't soak up liquid. Meaning the flavor didn't stick. And I couldn't just simmer them forever, either.

Then the noodles would bloat.

I couldn't serve a customer a bowl of fully swollen, overcooked ramen.

The solution for that?

This.

I ground in a generous amount of black pepper. Not ordinary pepper, either. This was pepper I'd enhanced with a skill so its distinctive heat would come through fully. What it gave me was a strong aroma and a sharp kick—using that bold seasoning to cover the flavor the noodles wouldn't take on, and finding balance that way!

Once that delicately balanced ramen was cooked through—

Ta-da—

A new dish complete. Just eating it would activate stamina that burned through a fair amount of calories.

A dish that makes you lose weight while you eat, basically.

Sounded absurd, sure. But if the calories it contained were less than the calories needed to digest it, that was exactly what happened. Ten calories come in, twenty get used digesting them—that's minus ten. This ramen worked the same way. The Vitality Enhancement and Stamina Regeneration woven into the cooking would naturally make the body burn a lot of energy. The vitality would keep you active without tiring out, and that alone would torch a good number of calories.

And the taste wasn't lacking in the slightest. I'd already confirmed both the fragrant aroma of the new ramen and its outstanding flavor.

I ate myself full on it yesterday, after all.

I called out with confidence.

"Ramen's up!"

"Whoa! What is this?"

"I used konjac noodles to drop the calories way down. You'll feel more energized after eating it, too. Dig in without worry."

"Thank you!"

The expression on Janus Regular's face, as he took the dish, lit up bright. He was already in a good mood before he'd even tasted it. The hangdog look was gone, replaced by pure anticipation.

Slurp—

He took a big, decisive bite.

"It's good! Wow… how do you get this kind of flavor out of konjac noodles?!"

A smile had settled on the regular's face. Watching from a distance, I thought,

This is the best.

That these moments of bringing joy to my customers were the happiest ones of all.

And so I wrapped up the day's business perfectly. Maybe it was the extra tables, but I'd sold more than twice the usual amount.

A new record!