An Eye for an Eye
"What are you talking about?"
I already knew what he was going to say. Still, I opened my eyes wide and looked at him as if I hadn't the faintest idea.
The big guy slapped his own chest in frustration.
"I told you not to cross the line!"
He jabbed a finger at the white painted stripe. His hand was trembling with heat.
"Don't you know the truck zone rules? The rules?"
"I followed the rules."
"No—you didn't just cross the line, you took over the next stall completely. You think that's fine?"
"Yes. It is."
"What? How is that fine?"
But I had followed the rules.
"That stall over there. I rented it. By the book."
"…Huh?"
"There's no law saying you can only rent one spot in the Food Truck Zone, is there? The other stalls were empty, and I paid for that one fair and square."
He clearly hadn't understood, so I explained it for him. His face went blank as the words sank in—then flushed red and purple by turns.
People like him always fell back on the same move when things didn't go their way.
Bluster.
He came at me arguing like the whole thing was absurd.
"Th-that doesn't make any sense! One guy taking over this whole stretch… huh? You're saying that fits the rules?"
"It does."
"Says who?"
"I called the district office and asked before I rented anything. Want to see the reply?"
"…The district office?"
"Yes. I paid and rented it properly. Oh, and those tables? See them? Not a single one over the line."
I pointed. Not one table crossed the stripe—I'd arranged them that way on purpose. The big guy's mouth worked open and shut. He wanted to talk, but he had nothing left to say.
"I've got a lot of tables to set thanks to you, so I'll be going."
"R-right."
I left him standing there, dazed. Still, there was one thing I couldn't let slide. This was one thing he needed to hear.
"Ah—and one more thing."
"Hm?"
A little injection of manners.
"Don't talk down to me. Mind your manners while I'm still being polite about it."
"Y-you…!"
"If you can't speak properly, leave. I'm busy."
He stepped in close, ready to pick a fight—then our eyes met.
"Ahem…"
He took a step back. For a second, pure fear and confusion flashed across his face.
Wh-what kind of eyes were those…
Bang Sung-min. Backed by money from home, he'd become a young shop owner in his thirties and feared nothing under the sun. He'd timed the market well with his ramen business, and the place had thrived. Word spread that it was the local favorite. He'd even hired eight employees on the strength of it.
I've got eight people working under me… and this guy has zero!
The logic was a little warped, sure. But between his bulk and his connections in the merchants' association, nobody messed with him. No ordinary ramen shops even opened nearby. A monopoly, basically. Life had been smooth, nothing to sour his mood.
On the surface, at least, he was a successful boss. Up until recently.
Customers had started dropping off out of nowhere, and he'd been wondering why—until he heard it.
"Wasn't that ramen incredible?"
"Seriously insane! The broth was just…!"
"Should we go again?"
"The line's probably already out the door today. Tomorrow. Let's go tomorrow!"
Apparently a ramen place had popped up in the Food Truck Zone nobody ever looked at. At first he'd scoffed at the fuss.
Ramen's still just ramen no matter how good it is. Mine has real depth…!
…Never mind that most of his ingredients came from a Japanese food wholesaler. In Bang's mind, assembly was a craft too.
Opening-day hype. A few days and it'll fizzle. Keeping a restaurant on top is hard work—you'll see.
Time crawled by.
"Irasshai—oh! Boss, you're here?"
"No customers again today?"
"Yeah. As you can see. Nobody."
"Hah."
Time moved. Nothing else did. The tables stayed empty. Only the regulars remained—and even they looked shaky. The satisfaction on their faces seemed lower than usual. Was he imagining that?
Th-this can't keep going…
Thump. Thump. His heart hammered. The sense of crisis hit him like a wave.
Some two-bit food truck…!
So he'd gone out first thing in the morning and found the guy setting up tables. Of course. Just as expected—no business ethics at all, pushing tables past his own territory.
"Hey!"
He'd shouted right at him. After the first yell and the first table vanishing, he'd thought it was working. But the customers still didn't come. His shop wasn't recovering.
He closed up and went over—and what he saw was a spectacle.
There are more tables?
He'd confronted the man on the spot, only to be told everything was permitted and there was no problem. And… there wasn't a problem.
I'm the problem!
At this rate, he wouldn't be able to keep the shop running. He couldn't just let this stand.
So what if he's following the rules? Huh? Damn it…
Blood up, he'd stormed in close. An old high-school habit surfaced. With a frame like his, nobody had ever stood their ground when he closed the distance.
That was how it was supposed to go. It should have been.
…Oh.
The moment their eyes locked, his mind went blank. There was a beast in those eyes. A predator that ate herbivores for breakfast. Bang Sung-min froze like one.
"If you can't speak properly, leave. I'm busy."
Only when the other man spoke did Bang feel his locked body loosen.
"Ahem…"
Instinct told him this approach wouldn't work. That didn't mean he was ready to give up. Losing a staring contest left a sour taste that twisted into pure spite. The heat in him boiled higher.
For a long time he stared at the ramen shop owner's back, ready to tear into him. He couldn't say anything to his face…
But Bang Sung-min still managed to glare daggers as he walked away.
Damn it! Just you wait…!
What a joke.
People talk about presence. This guy had been running on bulk alone. How was he supposed to take the killing intent left over from the apocalypse?
No chance.
Embarrassed at having stepped back, he kept glaring for a while but never came any closer. I hadn't even shown him the real thing, and that was his reaction.
What a waste of a frame.
Anyway. After that, business went smoothly.
"Special pepper ramen again today?"
"You know it's up to the owner, right?"
"I know it's Ramenkase. I know, I know. Still!"
"I'll make you the special pepper ramen."
"Yes! One bowl, please."
The gloomy regular had evolved into a bright one. Lately he even came by for dinner now and then, saying the meal gave him strength for overtime.
I should push it toward stress relief. Dice the green onions fine and pack in a clean, sharp brightness.
Bright regulars were fine, but the one who showed up morning and night without fail was still that kid.
"Hyung! I'm here!"
"You again? Didn't you already eat lunch here?"
"Hey, is that any way for a boss to treat a customer…?"
"Ahem. I see you every day, that's all."
Jin-woo never took a day off. Eating here, he claimed, made both studying and part-time work go better. From what I heard, his grades had climbed quite a bit. Every day he wore the face of someone whose luck was turning, smiling nonstop.
That kid's constitution seems unusually compatible with my cooking.
His body took to my food well. At this rate, in a month his stamina would jump by at least one point—not a temporary boost, but for life. In other words, his very constitution would change. With higher stamina, his whole life would shift. He'd tire less no matter what he did, and recover faster. It was basically a blessing.
And he ordered without a clue, bold as anything.
"That's how much I love the ramen. But today I'll take the special pepper ramen too, please!"
"Why? Don't you like the confit garlic best?"
"I feel like I've been overdoing that one a bit…"
"Heh. Fine. I'll make it."
"Yes!"
Anyway, it was nice having such a bright kid around.
He used to look half-dead when I first met him.
Now he was charged full of energy. Watching him bubble over, the regulars nearby wore fond little smiles.
"Hoho. Look at that boy. Full of life, isn't he?"
"He's a fun one. I was just like that when I was young."
"You were. But I like the way you are now even better."
"Is that so? Haha. What's there to like about an old man with no steam left?"
"So what if you've lost a little steam? We get to stay together longer than before. Isn't that wonderful?"
"Haha. True. You're right. You're right."
A lovely old couple. For about a week now they'd been dropping by now and then, and they seemed to draw strength from the place too—always wearing those contented smiles.
They look good together.
Watching them, I felt strength come back to me as well. Warmth, maybe. Two people who'd spent long years side by side carried a weight that young couples simply didn't have. The phrasing was a little rough, but it was a love that had aged beautifully.
Will I meet someone like that someday too?
They looked that fine. We were still just a food truck. Even with care taken, the ramen I served wasn't the easiest thing for older folks to eat. Someday I wanted to put a special dish in front of them that truly suited them. Until that special dish was ready, I hoped I could keep seeing them like this.
I'll do my best and make it delicious for them.
Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. While I drew out a deep broth, I slipped in a little radish—its compounds would help with digestion. And to finish, after everything had boiled, the bean sprouts. Even with ramen, their stomachs would feel settled afterward.
"Here you are. Your ramen."
"Oh! Something special again today?"
The old gentleman had excellent manners. He always spoke to me with formal respect.
"I just hoped it would sit a little easier."
"Haha. Thank you. Lately I live for the taste of this."
"I'm grateful just to hear you say that."
His face lit up as he took the two bowls. Hearing the talk of ramen, the old lady already seated broke into applause and beamed. She was wonderfully expressive with her feelings.
Looking past the two of them, I spotted a catlike child behind them.
Huh…? She's here again.
Long hair, bright sharp eyes. Maybe around ten. She'd been coming by since the early days of the shop. From the look of it she attended one of the nearby academy district cram schools, because she passed this way every day. A kid who took ramen seriously. Every time she walked by the food truck, I caught her swallowing hard.
"…"
She seemed embarrassed by it—whenever our eyes met she'd duck her head and scamper off into the distance.
Cute, though.
A little kitten of a child. If she came and ordered, I had a bowl ready for her. Unfortunately, she didn't come over today either.
Not today either? She hasn't been eating much lately.
Then again, a kid's pocket money was what it was. Even an occasional bowl might take real resolve. Part of me wanted to quietly hand her one.
The timing never works out, though.
I couldn't just leave the shop mid-rush to go fetch her. In the meantime, the little kitten-child had already gone far. A shame, but today wasn't the day either.
On the other end of the spectrum, there was the bulldog type.
Him again.
The big guy walked past the front once more, glaring at the place for a long stretch. Unable to find anything to pick at, he huffed and stomped off—that had become the daily routine. Then our eyes met. Normally he'd duck his head and keep going, but today he went by with a scornful snort.
Hmm? Different reaction today.
There was a scheming look in his eyes. I was still watching him carefully when Jin-woo, face buried in his broth, suddenly flinched.
"Huh?"
"What is it?"
"Um… nothing. It's nothing."
He said it was nothing, but his eyes were locked on the big guy. He wore the face of someone who'd done something that made him feel guilty. I looked back and forth between the big guy and Kang Jin-woo for a while. Then it clicked.
Ah… that.
Jin-woo came here for two reasons: the academy and his part-time job. If he saw someone from the academy, there was no way he'd pretend not to know them. Even if an instructor walked by, he'd grin and walk right up, thick-skinned as he was. That left the part-time job. The guilty look made the answer simple.
That big guy—he's the owner of the ramen shop where Jin-woo works part-time?
I had the big guy's identity. Once I knew, the whole situation fell into place. All the talk about rules, the reason he kept walking past—it came to me easily.
He wanted to eliminate a competitor.
So the big guy's business was doing well enough that he wanted to interfere with mine.
With the picture clear, a dry laugh slipped out. With a livelihood on the line, I could understand the anger. But his methods were childish. He'd be better off focusing on his own food than trying to get in my way. Interference like that had fewer options than he thought.
What could he even do to me?
There was something, as it turned out.
I'd assumed there wouldn't be much. But there was a childish way to get in my way that was easier than I'd expected.