Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Rising Ratings
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Kim Haneul was a regular viewer of the Sky and Kite channel. He'd first come across it through a Stam ad.
Living alone, the only way he knew to cook Stam was to fry it up in a pan. But even that got old after a couple of times—firing it up every meal just wasn't sustainable.
Desperate to make Stam tasty somehow, Kim Haneul scoured YouTube and stumbled on Sky and Kite's ad collab.
After trying the recipe from that Stam video, he picked up a new hobby: recreating the dishes from their videos.
"Wonder what they're cooking today. Would love some more Japanese food."
He opened the YouTube channel. Oddly, the usually quiet Community tab had a fresh post.
"Feedback? Meh. Just upload a cooking video already."
Kim Haneul felt a pang of disappointment, like his daily highlight had vanished. But curiosity tugged at him too.
Kim Haneul was a talented chef. The short clips and food pics on Star Star were all top-tier quality—mouthwatering enough to make your mouth water just watching.
But Kim Haneul could only watch; he couldn't taste it.
Why? YouTubers' food isn't something you can just eat whenever you want.
If it were a famous chef, maybe there'd be a chance at a restaurant. But Kim Haneul didn't sell his cooking, so outsiders like him were stuck clumsily imitating with amateur skills.
This time, though, he might actually get to try a dish touched by those hands—even if it wasn't made by Kim Haneul himself.
"Video up yet?"
He waited about an hour. Right on the usual weekly slot, it dropped.
[This Isn't Pizza]
"Pizza? Pizza's always good."
A reliably delicious choice.
A whopping 30 minutes long—double the usual Sky and Kite runtime of around 15.
It kicked off mildly with feedback, Kim Haneul's tone softer than usual, acknowledging the owner's hard work.
Surprising. But on the second visit, he was sharp. The third, gentle. The fourth, cutting again.
"What's the deal? Why the switch?"
Kim Haneul rewound, puzzled. Turns out, footage shot by the editor showed a kinder side, while self-shot clips were merciless.
The owner, Kim Haeyeon, even looked relieved when the editor arrived in the later parts—hilarious enough to spark tons of comments.
Gurgle.
Kim Haneul's stomach rumbled. Skipping dinner to watch cooking vids had fired up his appetite.
"Looks great. Worth a visit?"
He searched for "Pizza Standard" from the video. Shockingly, it was right nearby.
"A spot like this near me? I've tried pretty much every pizza joint around."
Living solo meant lots of delivery. Just in the past year, he'd ordered from over seven pizza places.
Kim Haneul tilted his head and checked the delivery app, scrolling reviews.
"Found it. Oh, here."
Rang a bell.
Pizza's usually tasty enough to finish, but this place? He'd never cleaned the plate.
"Yeah, this one."
Recalling the taste, Kim Haneul got why Kim Haneul had roasted it.
After a moment's thought, he grabbed his jacket and headed out. Delivery was paused for quality reasons, no choice.
"Around here, right? Anyone home?"
No line—lucky. He stepped in and took an empty seat.
"Welcome! What can I get started for you?"
Kim Haeyeon appeared. Seeing someone from YouTube in person felt surreal, even for a regular.
"What's the best?"
"Just Hawaiian, bulgogi, and pepperoni right now. If Hawaiian's not your thing, go bulgogi or pepperoni."
Kim Haneul pondered briefly and ordered the bulgogi.
Cooking kicked off right away. As a fragrant aroma wafted, seats started filling.
-This the YouTube spot? Interiors are pretty basic.
-Who cares, as long as it tastes good.
-Tastes good? Heard the ratings suck.
Chatter about Kim Haneul's YouTube popped up everywhere.
The power of a 200K-sub YouTuber was no joke.
Soon, the bulgogi pizza arrived.
"Here's your pizza."
"Thanks."
Crispy crust, golden cheese, hefty bulgogi chunks studded throughout, glossy like sugar-coated.
"Not just the looks—the smell's insane."
Gulp.
Saliva flooded his mouth. Others murmured, but Kim Haneul tuned them out.
He sliced a piece.
Cheese stretched long. He topped the end with a fallen bulgogi bit and bit in.
Crunch.
Crispy texture and chewy cheese enveloped his tongue. The bulgogi's smoky, mildly spicy char cut through the richness.
Layers exploded in harmony.
Like a circus: cheese's nuttiness faded into smoke, bulgogi's heft balanced by tangy tomato sauce.
Perfect synergy covering every flaw.
"This is seriously good."
Not quite pro-chef level, but the best bulgogi pizza from any casual spot he'd had.
Kim Haneul devoured it.
Mid-bite, a question hit him.
'How the hell did Kim Haneul pull this off?'
The gap from his old bulgogi pizza to this was massive—hard to believe same chef.
Hell, the old one barely seemed human-made.
He wasn't alone.
"Hey, boss. Pack up a Hawaiian to go, please."
The post in the neighborhood eats cafe—usually for sharing food tips—sparked a flurry of question marks.
Food explorers had already hit Pizza Standard, naturally rating it rock-bottom.
Sudden claims of deliciousness and lines? Bewildering.
Skeptics tried it after reading replies, left satisfied, and piled on the praise. Pattern repeated.
The delivery app's stagnant 3-point rating climbed live to the 4s in under a week.
"Where you off to?"
"Dumping trash. Look at all these pizza boxes."
We chuckled at the wall stacked with pizza boxes—two weeks' worth from our project.
I crumpled them tight and tossed downstairs.
Washed up, flopped on the bed. Sister crawled over like a turtle, nuzzling my stomach.
"Views are solid—glad it worked."
"Yeah. But no more feedback content for a while. Way too draining."
"Agreed. Toughest two weeks since starting YouTube."
Not just from eating the same food.
Handing full trust to an unrelated third party. Their effort decided if we got praise or flak.
For a recurring series, the first had to nail it.
So we visited often, stuck to pizza talk even in chit-chat.
What bugged me most? Dates.
We aim for one a week. But pizza derailed them—if we went out, it'd loop nearby and end at the shop.
Even with above-average views, we're shelving it for now.
The video's impact exceeded expectations. Emails flooded in from businesses chasing that trickle-down glow-up.
I sorted them all.
"I'm upset. So upset."
"What? Why? Something happen?"
"Nah. Just a few hate comments."
Mostly positives, but a rare few hates slipped in. Sister sighed repeatedly at them.
"We knew some would come."
"Yeah. But seeing 'em still stings."
Can't fix that for her. I stroked her hair to cheer her up.
Sorting emails, one in a foreign language caught my eye.