The Effect of the Visit
The background music cut out cold.
All that remained was the sound of noodles being swallowed.
Slurp— slurp—
Nothing else. Not a single other sound.
“……”
“……”
But that was enough.
Appetite rose on its own.
I already know how it tastes, and I still want another bite.
Even I, the one who’d cooked it, found myself craving the food under that kind of editing.
Then the video’s rhythm suddenly accelerated.
It was war.
“Ah……!”
The elegant empress was gone.
Im Ha-yun inhaled noodles like she hadn’t eaten in days.
Soni—who’d sworn she was dieting, that nothing was going to satisfy her—licked the sauce clean off the plate.
Every emptied dish, every mountain of stacked bowls that kept climbing higher!
The footage tore forward without mercy, blockbuster-fast.
And then, the end.
“Whoa…….”
Im Ha-yun collapsing over the table was caught in slow motion.
—I’m done! I surrender!
The video closed on her raising the white flag.
Factory Restaurant — Challenge Failed. No: Total Defeat.
Barely an hour after the upload, the view count was rocketing skyward.
Maybe because two major YouTubers were involved. Or maybe—
Maybe the concept was just that good.
The comment section had detonated.
In only a few hours, the comments had already blown past ten thousand. At this rate, tens of thousands wouldn’t take long.
The reaction wasn’t just hot—it was scorching.
It had long since left “looks delicious” behind.
The story of arrogant YouTubers getting thoroughly schooled by pure cooking skill. The visuals of food that matched that narrative. People were losing their minds over it.
And then the overwhelming cooking performance on top of everything!
Momentum. Once momentum caught, the frenzy erupted.
“Whoa, hyung, look at this.”
“What now? Focus on the customers.”
“Come on, just look.”
Jinwoo held out his phone. Something I hadn’t expected was sitting on the screen.
My face was hanging on the YouTube main page. Front and center, enormous.
“Huh?”
“This is insane…… it’s number one on Trending! How am I supposed to stay calm about this?!”
Harang couldn’t close her mouth either, like she couldn’t believe it.
“Woooow…….”
“Boss, the views…… they’re almost at a million. And it hasn’t even been half a day since it went up…….”
“Yeah. That’s a lot.”
“‘That’s a lot’? That’s not how this conversation ends! Wow, this is really—!”
I calmly wiped down a table with a dishcloth.
Numbers were just numbers.
What mattered to me was tomorrow morning.
It’s only episode one, and the hype has already exploded past anything I expected.
Anyone who watched that video would pour in like a tidal wave. That wasn’t exaggeration.
Your renown has risen dramatically.
Alluring Chef
Countless gourmets are beginning to take notice of you.
As if to prove the expectation true, system messages were floating right in front of my eyes.
This board was about to tip past any hope of control.
Even more people than before were going to come pouring in.
Good.
I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of my mouth.
People watching my cooking and going wild over it. Drooling. Climbing the walls because they wanted to eat it.
As a chef, what could be better than that?
“Jinwoo. If any of your friends have free time tomorrow, make sure they come in.”
“Burning Time, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Got it. I’ll round them all up.”
“Good. And Harang—later, let’s hit the market one more time.”
“We just went yesterday. Shouldn’t we be fine?”
“No. At this rate we need to prep at least three times the usual amount.”
“Three times? That much?”
“She’s right, noona. Even that might be cutting it close.”
Jinwoo jumped in with the assessment, and I confirmed it.
“What Jinwoo said. Even three times might not be enough.”
We might need even more.
Alright. Come on, then. All of you.
“Now this is cooking.”
I muttered it while spinning the wok without pause.
The festival’s aftereffects hadn’t fully worn off yet. The so-called festival boost was still hanging around—and now YouTube had been piled on top.
The shop had become a battlefield.
The impact of Hyun-sung’s video defied imagination. Opening-time rushes were baseline. The waiting line stretched all the way outside the factory.
And what they all wanted to eat inevitably boiled down to two dishes.
“Ugh, what do I do? I want the jjamppong and the rice bowl.”
“Right? Ordering both is way too much food.”
“So what do I pick…… damn…….”
Hellfire Seafood Jjamppong or Black Pork Cutlet Rice Bowl.
Between the two that Im Ha-yun and Soni had demolished so deliciously, people were stuck in agonizing indecision. A dead heat—no clear winner.
Of course they want both.
After seeing the overwhelming visuals of Im Ha-yun and Soni polishing those plates clean, craving both was only natural. But my portions were generous by default. Cleaning two bowls alone was a tall order.
It was the classic dilemma. Jjajang or jjamppong.
Do I really need to leave customers stuck like that?
I already had the answer ready.
“Jinwoo! Promote the Half-and-Half Bombardment Set!”
“Yes, sir!”
The answer was simple. Split it.
Why else had Chinese restaurants invented the revolutionary split-bowl—jjajang on one side, jjamppong on the other? Time to use that principle.
I pulled out the bowls I’d prepared in advance: special vessels with a divider right down the middle.
“Can’t decide? Go for the Half-and-Half Bombardment Set! Both dishes you’re torn between—in one bowl!”
“Huh?”
“Woooow……!”
“Half-and-half?!”
The reaction exploded. I didn’t even need to hear it to know—people were going to swarm the half-and-half set.
Time to move.
I dove straight into cooking. Jjamppong on the left burner, pork cutlets spinning in the fryer on the right. Simultaneous cook.
Tap. Tappity-tap. Tap.
Beside me, Harang’s knife worked the remaining ingredients at matching speed.
Nice backup rhythm!
Whoosh!
A beautiful knife sound, and flames surged from the wok, searing vegetables and seafood together.
Sizzle!
In the oil pot, thick cuts of black pork tenderloin fried to a golden shine.
Ingredient Strengthening
Heat Control (Lv. Max)
Two dishes at once. I finished both without a single shortfall, on perfect timing.
Into the left half of the bowl went Hellfire Seafood Jjamppong—a blazing red broth. Half the usual portion, but the seafood was piled on without restraint.
Alright. Right side.
On the right: fluffy rice, a crisp black pork cutlet laid over it, special sauce and a soft-boiled egg on top.
Spicy broth and savory fried cutlet. Fiery heat and mellow richness. Perfect balance between the two.
Just right.
I set the steaming bowl on the counter.
“Order up—Half-and-Half Bombardment Set!”
“One here too!”
“Coming right up!”
As if they’d been waiting for it, Jinwoo and his friends ferried the sets out. Customers’ eyes went round at the sight of the big divided bowls.
“Whoa! That visual is insane!”
“Man. Genius idea. Both of them in one bowl?”
“Insane. Gotta get a photo of this.”
The response was explosive. Customers who’d been stuck deliberating until the last second all raised their hands at once.
“I’ll take that too!”
“Half-and-half over here—add one!”
The combination of the two was devastatingly good.
Slurp the jjamppong until it got too spicy? Shift your chopsticks to the crispy cutlet and cool down. Cutlet starting to stick in your throat? The jjamppong’s fiery broth punched it clear.
Spoons never got a rest.
Customer satisfaction is rising explosively.
Customer enthusiasm is rising explosively.
Of course. The end of all tuning is stock. And the end of choice paralysis is half-and-half.
Perfect.
I watched the empty bowls stack higher and smiled with satisfaction. Running out of ingredients today was only a matter of time.
Keep eating. You’ll be craving it again tonight.
“Ha……. Unbelievable.”
Jang On-gyu slammed his tablet onto the table.
On the screen, a red caption still blazed.
The full cut that had gone up after the edited version. Full versions usually struggled to pull high view counts—yet this one had already blown past two million.
The comments were pure worship.
Some nobody who’d been boiling instant noodles on a beat-up food truck was shaking the whole scene.
That bastard’s luck is sickening.
Put up a fence, and he used the fence. Send YouTubers, and he converted them. Step on him all you wanted—he kept coming back up. Even weeds weren’t this stubborn. The harder you crushed him, the tougher he seemed to grow.
The fact that some cheap sideshow he’d staged without spending a single won was getting more buzz than the Shinsigaji festival Jang had poured hundreds of millions into—that was what turned his stomach inside out.
Just when you thought you’d forgotten him, there he was again. Impossible to keep calm.
“Over a lousy YouTube video!”
Jang On-gyu forced himself to dismiss its value. Flash popularity always burned out. Real power came from capital and systems in the end.
But the sour taste in his gut wouldn’t leave.
He needed a reverse card. A massive flood of water that would snuff out that irritating spark in a single stroke.
Knock knock. At that moment, the office door carefully opened. Secretary Park.
“Sir, a guest has arrived.”
“A guest? I don’t have anyone scheduled.”
Jang On-gyu furrowed his brow. In this mood, he was in no state to meet anyone. The secretary should have known that. Why was he being bothered with this?
“Send them away. I’m tired.”
“It’s just… I think you should see them.”
“Who is it?”
“Producer Ga.”