I'm Not Buying! Not Buying!
The festival was over, but the heat hadn't cooled one bit.
If anything, it was burning hotter than ever.
Nice.
Whether the night market buzz had spread or word of mouth had simply done its work, the shop was packed day after day.
"Boss! Those skewers I had at the night market last time—do you sell them here?"
"Ah, I was just helping out for a bit. When did you even see that, though?"
"You were putting on a whole fire show. How could anyone not see it?"
"Heh. Sounds like you got a good show, then."
"But are you planning to add the skewers to the menu?"
"Not yet. We've all got to eat and make a living together, you know."
"Aww, that's a shame. Those were seriously good."
"Instead, I've got some new chicken ready today that's absolutely killer. Give it a try."
Customers who'd made a point of coming back filled the place to bursting. Lunch hour had long since passed, and still the line showed no sign of thinning.
Inside the Factory Restaurant, it was a war zone.
"Table three—two ramen, two kimbap!"
"Table seven's black pepper konjac ramen going out!"
Jinwoo tore through the dining room dripping with sweat. Harang was out on the floor with him this time too, running food until she was spinning.
If I hadn't called in Jinwoo's friends just in case, we'd have been finished.
I was no better off in the kitchen. I spun the wok without pause and boiled noodles until my arms ached. My body was exhausted, but I couldn't complain.
The system messages just kept rolling in.
Cooking complete!
Customer satisfaction is rising.
The shop was full of that soft, steady slurp-slurp of noodles. To me, it was the sweetest sound in the world.
Among the crowd were a few familiar faces, too. Lee Hyun-sung, the YouTuber who'd once come for his "life-changing ramen," was tucked into a corner booth with his camera, working through a bowl with serious focus. It looked less like content and more like a man simply eating.
Does that guy ever get tired of this?
He hadn't missed a single day of the festival either. He was stamping his attendance card like clockwork.
Then again—once you're hooked on my cooking, there's no cure.
Even in the middle of the rush, the way he ate stood out. The kid definitely had a gift for mukbang. He always claimed he competed on quality, not quantity. From where I stood, that wasn't quite true.
Hyun-sung should really lean into volume.
Felt like he was wasting a talent, somehow. Well. His choice.
And so the days blurred past in a nonstop blur of heat and orders—until, before I knew it, it was three in the afternoon. We were knocking out the last tickets before break time when someone approached the bar.
"Um, Boss?"
I turned, expecting a customer. The look of him was off. His eyes, first of all. Those were not the eyes of a man who'd come for a meal. A company ID hung conspicuously around his neck, and he held a planner and a business-card case in his hands. Sharp jacket, hair slicked back hard with wax.
My gut spoke first.
This guy's not from our world. Now what?
For some reason, I had a strong feeling something annoying was about to happen.
"It's three o'clock. Lunch service is closed."
"Ah—I'm not here for that."
…Not for that?
"Hello. I'm Park Min-soo, assistant director with KBN Entertainment."
The man held out a business card. A confident smile. Park Min-soo. He was sure of himself.
Korea's top entertainment producer—PD Ga—had given the order.
Casting? Piece of cake.
Self-employed folks starving for airtime. Flash a card and they bow until their heads hit the floor. And this wasn't just any show. This was PD Ga's new project. There was no way anyone would refuse. No—they couldn't refuse.
"You look busy, so I'll keep it short. Boss—congratulations."
"Congratulations?"
"This time, well… look. I'm really not supposed to say this, okay?"
"Then don't. If you don't want to, don't."
What was with this guy? You were supposed to hear a Korean sentence through to the end.
Tch. Once he hears it, he'll change his tune.
Any second now, a full one-eighty. He just had to endure until then. Holding onto that expectation, Park Min-soo pressed on in his smoothest voice.
"Our network's flagship producer is launching a new real-variety show. We want you on it."
There was a deliberate swagger in his tone. He fully expected the other man to be too overwhelmed to speak. He had said "flagship producer," after all. At KBN, that could only mean PD Ga—no need to name names.
He only told me not to say it outright. Dropping a hint is fair game, right?
Even this much should flip the guy's whole posture on the spot.
"You realize what a massive opportunity this is, right? A new program with guaranteed ratings. Appear once, and becoming a nationwide star chef is only a matter of time."
He watched for a reaction as he kept going. Any second now. The response should be coming.
"Appearance fee? Top of the industry. Shop promotion? Don't even need to say it. One broadcast and your waitlist will wrap around the planet."
By any measure, it was a perfect offer. Money, fame, free advertising—a lifeline that handed over everything at once. By this point, people usually grabbed his pant leg and begged to be cast.
Already wearing a winner's smile, he flipped open his planner.
"About the filming schedule—let's see. You're free starting next week, right? You'll need to close the shop for a few days, but the appearance fee more than cov—"
"Not interested."
"…What?"
His hand stopped.
Did I mishear that?
He looked up. The man in the kitchen wasn't even looking at him. He was boiling noodles.
"Sorry, could you repeat that?"
"I said I'm not interested in TV."
"N-no, Boss, you haven't even heard the full terms. It's a broadcast program. There's no way it flops—"
"Whether it flops or thrives has nothing to do with me. Can't you see I'm busy running a shop?"
Sizzle!
Vegetables hit a screaming-hot wok. Flames leapt with a roar. Park Min-soo flinched and took a step back.
This isn't how it's supposed to go.
Normally this was where they started clinging. What was this?
"W-well, at least take a meeting. The producer wants to see you personally. If you could just spare some time—"
"As you can see, I don't have time. What free time does a day-to-day self-employed cook have?"
"No, I'm telling you the appearance fee will be more than generous. Even if you close the shop, you won't take a loss—"
He was getting sticky about it. I portioned the finished ramen into bowls and waved him off like a fly.
"Ah—I'm not going. Not going! Flagship producer or not, I'm not going!"
My voice rang through the whole shop. Diners' heads turned. Park Min-soo's face went tomato red. The idea that anyone would slam the door on a casting offer from the great KBN network—it was a scenario he'd never even imagined.
"Y-you'll really regret this…"
"I won't. Jinwoo! Table seven's ramen is up!"
"Yes, Boss!"
The man turned his back as if further conversation wasn't worth the oxygen. Park Min-soo stood there, blank-faced, then fled the shop under the weight of every customer's stare.
Once the commotion settled, break time finally arrived.
"Thanks for the meal!"
"Take care!"
After the last goodbyes, only one customer remained—Lee Hyun-sung, in the corner, draining the final drop of broth. He snickered as he drifted over to the register.
"Whoa, Boss. That was insane."
"What was."
"Was that for real just now? He was wearing a KBN badge."
"Yeah. Network guy."
"If he said flagship producer, that means PD Ga's people, right?"
"PD Ga? Sounds familiar, I guess. Too much trouble."
I wiped down a table without much interest. Hyun-sung clicked his tongue.
"Look at that attitude. But that really is a huge opportunity. If it's actually PD Ga, he's basically the president of variety television. One appearance and you'd be a landlord overnight."
"I'll buy my buildings with my own money. Cash other people earn for you never tastes right."
"Man. That's our Boss."
Hyun-sung gave me a thumbs-up. Then he scanned the room, leaned in, and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial murmur.
"But Boss—you should be careful."
"Of what?"
"I know these types. Network people are way more persistent than you'd think."
Persistent? How bad could they be compared to a monster that had caught the scent of blood? Still, Hyun-sung's face was serious.
"Especially that PD Ga guy. Once he locks on, he's famous for not letting go."
"That so?"
"You shut him down today, so he'll come back just out of spite. His pride is through the roof."
"Please. If he's going to get sticky, he should've come himself from the start."
"Guess his ego got in the way."
"Let him come if he wants. I'll even throw some salt on him."
Hyun-sung burst out laughing. Even after paying, he didn't leave—just propped himself against the counter. His eyes glittered. There was a scheme in them.
"But Boss."
"What now? Aren't you leaving?"
"Come on, Boss. I'm a customer. I haven't gone for coffee yet."
"There was a time I used to buy that line. But if the wallet comes out that slow, you're not a customer anymore."
"Harsh… Here's my card."
Hyun-sung made a show of looking wounded and handed it over. The payment terminal chirped, and he leaned in closer.
"You said you hate TV, right? Too much of a hassle."
"That's right."
"Then how about this?"
"What."
"Forget the network guys. Want to do something fun with me instead?"
"Hmm…"
Out of nowhere. I stopped wiping and looked at him. A YouTuber and a cook. Easy to guess. Collab with me, appear on my channel—something like that.
"YouTube appearance? That's a hassle too."
"Nah, nothing that obvious."
"Then what?"
"Just hear me out first."