Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: New Contents (1)
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"How many zeros is that? One, two, three..."
Sister counted the numbers on her phone with her fingers. As the digits grew, so did the trembling in her fingers and eyes. By the time she reached the last digit, she dropped the phone.
"I-Is this really 30 million won?!?"
"I told you. I was confident. Don't tell me you didn't believe me?"
"No... I mean. I did believe you. I believed you, but..."
I flicked her forehead as she stood there frozen in shock.
Finally, she let out an "Ow!" and rebooted.
"Stop spacing out and let's look for it."
"Look for what?"
"What we were just talking about. The place we're moving to."
From that day on, we started searching for a new home.
The place we were living in now was a semi-basement. Mold grew in the summer, and the musty smell that came with it lingered 24/7.
I'd lived in a huge mansion before regressing, so I suffered from that smell for a while after coming back.
Sister didn't seem opposed to moving either and searched diligently. She was much better at research than I was. And she found a great place.
An officetel perfect for two people. It was only 30 minutes from where we lived before, so the neighborhood felt familiar.
A week later, we called a moving company and relocated.
"Ugh, my back. No matter how we sort this, it never ends."
"Yeah. There's more stuff than I thought."
Sister sighed as she unpacked a box. We'd been sorting since morning, but it was lunchtime and we still weren't done. I figured living in a cramped place meant we wouldn't have much, but there was more than expected.
"Let's eat first. I'm hungry."
"Me too. How about jjajangmyeon?"
"Sounds good. Wait a sec. We might have some black bean sauce at home..."
As I got up to check the fridge, Sister grabbed my ankle and pointed outside.
"Let's go out to eat."
"What I make would taste better than eating out, though?"
"No thanks. You're not seriously thinking of cooking on moving day. Actually, should I make it?"
Sister rolled up her sleeves and stood. The thought of her cooking instead of me while I was tired was touching. My heart warmed—until old memories I'd forgotten resurfaced.
-The time she tried to cook fish and turned it into a lump of charcoal, the bout of enteritis from her noodles, the chipped tooth from her baguette, the spicy seaweed soup, and more.
Those memories flashed vividly.
Sister was good at everything else, but cooking? She was truly terrible.
As a chef, watching her cook was agonizing.
Back then, with my trash personality, I'd bluntly say stuff like "This tastes awful—don't ever set foot in a kitchen again." But not anymore.
Now, I'd have to smile through food on the level of what I ate in my previous life and say it was delicious. And I'd have to explain why she shouldn't enter the kitchen anymore.
I jumped up and stopped her.
"No, no. You've worked hard too—rest. Eating here feels off anyway, so let's go out."
"But your palate is picky. You don't like eating out much."
"That was before the army."
"Oh? Then let's go. There's a Chinese place right across the street—how about that?"
"Sure."
Crisis averted, for now. But as Sister said, I was worried if the Chinese place next door would suit my taste.
I love food, but I'm picky. In my previous life, I mostly cooked myself or ate at proven spots.
We threw on jackets and headed out. A cool autumn breeze led us to the first floor of a nearby commercial building. A Chinese restaurant called Taehwaru.
It was lunchtime, but empty. Maybe delivery-only? I checked the app—surprisingly, under 50 reviews, rated 3.4. Pretty low.
"No other Chinese places?"
"Nope. We'd have to drive, and the car's a mess right now."
"True. Let's head in."
Opening the door brought the greasy smell typical of Chinese joints.
'Business might be slow, but they're still cooking.'
We sat anywhere and rang the bell. A man in a headscarf emerged from the kitchen.
"Hello. Welcome to Taehwaru. Order...? Wait, aren't you Sky and Kite?"
Surprisingly, the chef recognized me. First time in this life—I was a bit flustered but nodded casually.
"Yes, that's me."
"Whoa, huge fan. Loved your Dongpo Pork video. It was so easy and tasty, even I could make it."
"Thanks. Can we order?"
"Right, sorry. Here's the menu."
He handed it over.
Jjajangmyeon, jjampong, tangsuyuk. And Dongpo Pork, newly added. Just four items.
"What do you want? Jjampong like usual?"
"Not craving spicy today. Just jjajang for me. You?"
"Jjajang for me too. Two jjajangmyeon, please."
"Got it!"
The chef jotted it down and dashed back to cook. Steady wok sounds followed.
Sister took a sip of water and said,
"Who knew someone here would recognize us. Guess 100k subs gives some recognition."
"It's a Chinese place. Cooking spots might know me."
"True. With your looks, you're not exactly common. Should we make autographs?"
I already had one—from my Michelin chef days. But I wouldn't use it anymore.
Now, I was Kim Haneul of Sky and Kite, not the Michelin chef.
I wanted my autograph to be ours.
"We can make one now. Any ideas?"
"Me? I'm the editor. If we're doing autographs, it's yours—so pick what you like."
"Nah, it's our channel. Can't do it alone. Let's make one for Sky and Kite."
Sister wasn't against it and started browsing designs. Something was shaping up. We could finalize at home.
"Oh, right. We're at 100k now. Gotta do a milestone video—what should it be?"
A week since ad revenue settled. Our channel exploded— from 90k to over 100k subs, views nearing 200k.
Stars almost hit 20k, thanks to Sister's shorts and posts exceeding expectations.
Comments flooded with milestone ideas.
"Mostly Q&A. Other YouTubers do that at 100k. Should we?"
"Hm... I want something else. Q&A's cliché. We're new anyway—save it for later."
I turned down the idea.
Q&A wasn't bad, but too many Sister-related questions. Answering one would lead to more, maybe even wiki pages. No thanks.
As we brainstormed other content, the food arrived.
Scrape.
"Two jjajangmyeon."
The chef served steaming bowls with pickled radish and onions. He hesitated, then made a request.
"I made Dongpo Pork from your channel. Could you taste and review it?"
"Not a common menu item here—you prepped it ahead?"
"We didn't before, but added it after your video. Good response, so I make it fresh every morning."
No lies—the color looked great. Fate brought us here, and he asked bravely. Couldn't refuse.
"Sure, I can review it."
"Thank you! Enjoy!"
Beaming, he returned to the kitchen.
"Let's eat."
I slurped the jjajangmyeon. Stickier than usual. First bite.
Chew chew.
Black bean flavor faded quick, drowned by artificial sugar overpowering ingredients. Oil didn't blend with the sauce.
I grimaced at the lingering sweetness. To cleanse my palate, I tried the Dongpo Pork.
Thankfully, it was decent. A fairy compared to the jjajang.
Slurp. How do I eat this?
Couldn't stomach more.
Sister, being normal, could manage. But my sensitive taste and smell rebelled.
I dumped in way too much chili powder and forced it down.
Without the Dongpo Pork breaks, I wouldn't have finished.
"Whew. Done."
"Heh. Tough one. Should've gotten drinks."
"Nah. Already sweet—drinks would've made it worse."
Greasy was one thing, but excess sugar ruined it.
"All done? Mind a quick review?"
The chef appeared with paper and pen.
"Dongpo Pork first: solid. Tasty enough for most. Well-seasoned, good cook. But star anise too strong. Adjust spices."
"Adjust spices. And the jjajangmyeon?"
His smiling face, diligent notes—clearly serious, not in it for quick cash.
Minding he was a fan and Sister was there, I softened my tone.
No curses. Polite phrasing instead of harsh.
After refining, I spoke.
"Onions not fried enough for natural sweetness—relying on sugar kills black bean flavor. Oil temp too low; ingredients separate. Too sweet and greasy."
"Ah... as expected. Thanks."
He sighed, noting it down. He knew the issues.
The sweet-greasy aftertaste lingered homeward, so we grabbed discounted ice cream nearby.
"Finally alive."
"Kinda sad—he's trying hard."
"Can't help it. Effort and success are different."
I believe basic restaurant taste comes from hard work. Tons of good recipes on YouTube now.
Follow them, and you're set.
Sister pondered, then clapped.
"Oh, right."
"Forget your wallet?"
"No. This could be content. What if subscribers request spots, we eat and give feedback? Fun, right?"