A Secret Even the Daughter-in-Law Doesn't Know
"Nice to meet you. I'm Kwak Il-sik."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Nam Young-hu."
Kwak Il-sik, stuffed into a suit that looked ready to burst at the seams, and Nam Young-hu, in a more comfortably tailored one, exchanged polite greetings, handshakes, and business cards. Both wore friendly smiles, but in truth, they were carefully sizing each other up. Meanwhile, Kang Seol-bin stood there with an awkward smile.
'I knew this was coming, but man, these situations are tough.'
The good news was they weren't dismissing her just because she was young and trying to steamroll her. They were treating her with genuine respect. At first, she thought it was thanks to Uncle Il-sik standing there like a steadfast pillar beside her, but after observing a bit longer, she realized it wasn't that. They truly saw her as an equal, without any condescension.
Like those kids from complicated families who were quick to pick up on such things—poor, in debt, messy home lives—Kang Seol-bin had a sharp eye for people's attitudes. The types who, upon learning her situation, shot her pitying looks while thinking, 'At least I'm better off than her!' to feel superior, or those who saw her as easy prey since she had no backing and figured they could walk all over her.
Of course, Seol-bin never put up with it. She'd always pushed back hard. From her experience, if you didn't show some spice upfront, they'd keep looking down on you, ignoring you, and trying to use you at their convenience.
'They seem like good people, at least.'
Once she sensed their politeness was sincere, not fake, her tension eased a little. But the atmosphere and situation itself were still daunting. This wasn't some small shop owner; she was about to sit across from the president of a major company and discuss a serious contract.
And on top of that—
'Haa... Seriously, that bastard gave our whole family trauma.'
The mere word "contract" made her recall her mother's face clouding over. 'Still, I'm glad I mustered the courage to ask Uncle Il-sik when I first met the CEO. If I'd come alone...'
After getting a call from Yeonghu Fishing Gear's CEO Son Gi-tae, she'd panicked and thought of Physics Fairy Kwak Il-sik. She figured his younger brother, the daily world news reporter, might help keep things in check too. With two successful people watching, Yeonghu wouldn't dare pull anything shady.
'He agreed right away last time and this time too.'
Mom couldn't come because, after confirming the meeting, the hospital called. Her brother's right arm was moving much better, so they'd scheduled a meeting with the attending doctor and physical therapist to discuss future rehab. Someone from the family had to stay by her brother's side.
Mom had stomped her feet, insisting she couldn't send Bin-i alone, so Seol-bin had quickly called Il-sik, ending up here with him.
'Lucky break.'
She knew how rare reliable adults were. She was truly grateful for this connection.
'Anyway, this might happen more often now. Gotta get used to it. Be honest. Fake personas don't last. I've seen plenty of those crash and burn.'
Things had been going smoothly lately, but she wasn't blindly dreaming of a rosy future. Still, with a contract on the horizon from a company exporting overseas, ambition stirred in her. She wanted to become an even bigger streamer, earn more money.
'Mom's suffered enough all these years.'
She wanted to treat Mom right, let her brother recover worry-free without family finances on his mind. She dreamed of the day when her fully healed brother bickered over chicken legs like old times, someone yelling "Loser cleans the bathroom!" and challenging to a race.
'Mom says she's fine running the restaurant since she's used to it. But I want her to do what she loves and rest. Yeah. To make that happen, gotta hustle! Kang Seol-bin! I'm the one who's gonna lift this family up!'
She'd always worked hard at streaming, but now her resolve hardened further, her eyes sparkling with determination.
'Whoa, look at those eyes shining.'
Nam Young-hu chuckled warmly at her enthusiasm.
"So, shall we eat first, or talk contract? Whatever's comfortable for you two."
Il-sik glanced at Seol-bin, who paused before saying, "Contract first, please."
"Straight to business. Good."
"Honestly, right now I'd probably taste food through my nose anyway. I heard this place has amazing food—if we eat nervous, it'd be a waste."
Blushing slightly with an embarrassed smile, Seol-bin earned grins from both men, like uncles doting on a niece.
* * *
With my permission, the death spirits entered relieved and joyful, spilling similar tales.
Like Jo Mal-ja's case: pleas to deal with those harming their children. Or Baek Chun-deok's: protect kids from injustice. Or scolding ungrateful offspring who neglected widowed parents. Or reconciling siblings estranged over inheritance, no longer speaking.
Buried but wandering as death spirits, anxious for surviving family, desperate to help.
As they'd whispered earlier, shamans and fortune-tellers ignored their screams—unable to see or hear true spirits. Frustrated to bursting.
Then hearing Jo Mal-ja and Baek Chun-deok's issues resolved cleanly, they rushed with gold, jewels, cash bundles, aged herbal brews as payment.
I listened to each story carefully, verifying compensation meticulously. No matter the tale, this was non-negotiable.
Amusingly, as treasures piled from death spirits, I found a perfect use for the old spirit-trap chest.
「Brought. Some.」
「Me. Too. Brought. Some.」
Hwa-jeong and Pung-jeong dug up offerings from original burial spots, diligently depositing them before the chest. A cautious hand emerged from the slightly ajar lid, grabbing and stowing them inside.
I'd planned to bury them in the hospital back hill, but the chest suggested, 'Can we keep them here?' Testing it worked—perfectly.
Invisible to ordinary eyes, intangible even waving hands through it. To normals, the chest "didn't exist" here.
Unless deeply trusted like me by the chest's spirit family, no one could touch it or contents. My perfect, untouchable vault!
Super useful, safe. The accumulating wealth would aid family finances; herbs for me and Heavenly Wood.
Two curiosities arose:
One: 'Can we fit a person inside?'
Two: 'Would they survive?'
With Black Spirit Jade swallowed by Heavenly Wood, no longer a trap, but still a separate space. Large items fit without bulging.
The chest family wasn't sure about live humans... So, someday, grab a "suitable" human—one whose death would benefit the world—for testing. Who knows, might unlock new uses.
【Good work.】
<Not at all!>
A shy chuckle echoed from within.
「Next. Ones. Coming?」
【Yes.】
This turn: the gaunt-faced middle-aged woman in brown work hanbok. Up close, her hands showed hard labor—knobby joints, knife scars, burns. A cook's hands.
<Um, hello. Mountain God. I'm Han Myeong-rye...>
Tears rolled down mid-sentence. Choking up, she bit her lip, wrung her hands, hunched, then continued.
A recipe? What use to me—
Ah. Mom's restaurant.
She'd been asking Bin-i about trendy foods. Hmm. But if mediocre, not worth my effort.
【Is that recipe worth my trouble?】
<Search my name and see...>
She timidly pointed to the tablet PC Bin-i brought upon seeing my arm move freely. Bigger screen, easier than phone.
Han Myeong-rye. New name, famous?
I sent Pung-jeong for it, hovering at eye level, tapping keys.
<Precisely, 'Republic of Korea Food Master Han Myeong-rye.' Try that. Oh, 'rae' as in salute, not song.>
Pride flickered, briefly eclipsing sorrow, at "Food Master."
Hmm. Seems legit...
Searched as instructed—yep. Records of meju award. Even "Han Myeong-rye's World-Famous Meju Stew" chain named after her. Recent news: booming business. Reviews noted slight modern tweaks but still authentic deliciousness.
【So, confident in meju for profit. Want my help with fermentation method?】
<Yes. The shops' future...>
【Why?】
True. Same ingredients, recipe—tastes vary. Hence "cook's touch."
<Stew makers saw me, so similar, but not identical. Loyal customers will notice. Not the old taste.>
Hmm... But using her meju—issues? Patents everywhere; rivals might cry theft at Mom's place.
【Many already sell with your meju. Problem if I use it?】
<No issue. What I offer isn't meju—my life's research pinnacle: cheonggukjang. Secret from all.>
She beamed proudly. Daughter-in-law unknown secret, huh.
<My lifelong study. Cheonggukjang method, flavor-max recipes—all yours. Meju or cheonggukjang simple: good beans, boil right, ferment properly. Key: timing. Cooking varies wildly by skill. Same stuff, different hands—different taste. That's cooking. Plus other ferments, dishes I planned. So...>
Recalling memories, smiling earnestly, voice firm—then face fell.
<Please help my child. Anything more needed, I'll do it.>
【What's the illness?】
<Schizophrenia.>
Schizophrenia. Once "split personality," renamed for stigma. Unclear cause, delusions, hallucinations. Old view: psychological. Now: neurotransmitter imbalance. Meds, therapy. But refusal common, hard to sustain improvement.
Hmm. My elixirs could cure in one shot? Needs testing.
First test: her recipes' worth—Mom and Bin-i's taste, customers' verdict.
Second: my meds on schizophrenia. Soon as Gwang-jeong, Su-jeong back, grab that woman—or a zealous True Truth preacher/follower. Extract ingredients.
【Payment upfront, right?】
<Yes. Cheonggukjang first?>
【Mm.】
I placed fingers on keys. Later, teach the jeong how. One hand's awkward...
* * *
On a roaring highway, Amjeong floated, scanning cars—eyes lit, dove down.
「Found. You.」
Peering in a window, Amjeong grinned, murmuring. Target: Jeong Kyung-rok. Finally.