Gyo-iku-sang
Gyo-iku-sang.
"I-is that so?"
"Student, you've never even tried okonomiyaki~?"
"Okonomiyaki?? Well… I did try it once when I went to Japan."
He was a broadcaster who had risen alongside the boom in cooking shows.
If Cheon Jong-won was Korea's representative culinary expert, this man could be said to represent Japan.
A broadcast persona.
That was perfectly fine.
Just like 572—no, like Jonah○ representing people of color.
"If you've tried it, the explanation will be easy. Japan's okonomiyaki can be considered the prototype of pajeon."
"……."
"In the first place, the poor Korean people who couldn't even eat wheat flour started the mixed-grain promotion campaign after receiving massive American aid in the 1960s—that was the beginning~."
The broadcasting industry needed people like him.
Someone who could explain things from the perspective of that culture.
Different cultures meant different viewpoints.
It was all for the viewers' convenience.
"I don't think we can air this."
"Did I say something wrong~?"
"No, of course you're right, sir! But some viewers might find it uncomfortable."
"Ahem ahem! Another truth will go unshared because of ignorant viewers."
"Haha……."
If it only caused discomfort, it was all for nothing.
But Gyo-iku-sang's current stature was formidable.
He was Korea's first food columnist.
He had been writing articles about fine dining for decades.
"Looking at Japanese food, you can see the past and future of Korean cuisine. Take this makgeolli, for example."
"Is it Japanese sake?"
"Unfortunately it's changed a great deal from the original form……."
He even knew specialized knowledge ordinary people had never heard of.
Terms they were encountering for the first time in their lives.
So it had to be correct, right?
The principle of authority made it hard to push back even when you knew better.
"Koreans, who love sweet things, added sugar. Speaking of sugar, doesn't a certain culinary expert come to mind~?"
"Th-that's right."
"Cheon Jong-won!"
"The man who pours sugar like a waterfall without a thought for health. Seems there was someone like that in the past as well, heh heh."
""…….""
Gyo-iku-sang's explanation.
He claimed it had been made by diluting the Japanese sake known as nigorizake.
All one could do was nod along.
Otherwise you looked like an ignoramus.
What the hell is nigorizake?
What's nuruk, and what's ipguk?
So our makgeolli was made with Japanese yeast…….
It almost sounded plausible.
Korean makgeolli did use the Japanese-style yeast called "ipguk."
That fact lent extra weight to Gyo-iku-sang's claim that it was Japanese sake.
More than anything else—
Gulp! Gulp!
An easy-to-grasp impact.
It made even ordinary viewers feel that this man was a true expert.
"This popular taste… this is Jangsu Makgeolli, isn't it?"
"That's correct, sir! We poured it into a kettle for you—how did you…?"
"Once you reach a certain level of expertise, you know after a single sip. Ahem ahem!"
The broadcasting staff trailing after him.
He kept spouting strange nonsense, so a skeptical atmosphere had been building.
But seeing a scene like this, they had no choice but to acknowledge him.
This wasn't scripted collusion.
There was no script for this, right?
We couldn't have scouted every single student either…….
He really is something. Is it actually Japanese sake?
They knew better than anyone.
They simply hadn't noticed the stacks of Jangsu Makgeolli boxes piled in one corner of the booth.
Even without the boxes, my absolute palate would have been more than enough.
Even the foolish masses would recognize his greatness.
The frustration of not being able to say it outright had been building for a while.
"As expected of Gyo-iku-sensei!"
"Ahem……, and you are?"
"Forgive the interruption! I'm Cha Yu-jun, president of the club ETSD that runs this booth."
There was a polite student as well.
The Japanese-style address was quite to his liking.
Gyo-iku-sang is a terminal Japanophile, after all.
Yu-jun knew.
No—he had come to know.
It was already common knowledge online.
Gyo-iku-sang's defining trait.
The fact that he couldn't resist any story related to Japan.
"When we make pajeon, we also try to make it thick like okonomiyaki."
"No wonder it tasted nostalgic……, no, the student knows a thing or two."
"You flatter me!"
"Okonomiyaki also has squid in it, while Korea's seafood pajeon simply uses green onions instead of cabbage……."
What he had seen online turned out to be true.
A little flattery and the man grew talkative.
Right, rack up some points first.
ETSD's seafood pajeon.
There was a reason it had held the number-one sales spot for years.
The taste rivaled any proper restaurant.
The recipe had been passed down and refined across generations.
"We also sell cube steak."
"Cube steak? Steak actually came from Japan too, you know~."
""…….""
The cube steak did not fare as well.
They had put real care into making it, but—
If I kiss enough ass, something good might come out of it.
Honestly, it fell short.
It wasn't at a level that could satisfy a gourmet's exacting standards.
With Cheon Jong-won it would have been a 100% failure.
Gyo-iku-sang might be more compatible.
"Exactly! When I went to Japan I once tried street cube steak and was blown away. How could street food be better than a Korean restaurant? I tried to recreate it……."
"Ahem ahem! At least the passion came through."
"Thank you!"
"Lately there are people making cube steak after seeing wrong information from food trucks or whatever. Yours is a hundred times better than those."
Just as expected.
He had never set foot in Japan in his life, yet his heart seemed to have traveled there.
He rattled off nonsense and awarded high marks.
The phrase "for a student" still rankled a little, but—
"Oh, this must be a famous spot!"
"Better buy some before the line forms."
"Gotta take a verification shot and brag on SNS."
The effect was immediate.
Passersby who had been watching the filming.
One after another they came to try the food that would appear on broadcast.
If we can just win back the customers we lost.
He had always been confident in the taste.
A rival booth's dirty tricks had once stolen every customer, leaving them helpless like a reservoir in drought.
Now the waterway was opening again.
The seafood pajeon that had always sold well was selling well once more.
People even bought cube steaks one by one, just in case.
"Is the cube steak good too?"
"They're selling steak over there……."
"If Gyo-iku-sang approved it, that says everything!"
They reaped the full benefits of the broadcast.
No—of the broadcaster.
Gyo-iku-sang appeared on TV often enough to have a fandom.
People trusted whatever he said.
There were even those who worshipped him like a god.
""Niconicotin~♪""
The animation club.
""Umapyoi! Umapyoi!""
The Japanese-game club.
""Dai Nippon Banzai!""
The imperialism-and-colonialism club, and others.
Among Hankuk University's many students were those who loved Japanese culture.
Gyo-iku-sang had given high praise?
Word spread through the fandom until every table was packed with no empty seats left.
Some weird kids mixed in, but still.
It helped the sales.
The old saying that otakus meant money had never been wrong about a single thing.
They regained their former prosperity.
Beyond that, they would steal every last customer from the Stock Club.
"Let's make a poster too!"
"A poster?"
"Yeah, a poster of the broadcast just now! You know how old restaurants plaster huge signs saying 6 o'Clock My Hometown filmed here."
"If they come after us for copyright it could be a problem……."
"That guy picks fights with Cheon Jong-won all the time anyway."
"Is that so?"
They had to keep the momentum going.
They would use every method available to snatch customers.
This is war.
It wasn't ordinary business.
Even if they committed a few underhanded acts, winning was all that mattered.
Cleanup could wait until the situation settled.
One thing still bothered him.
"What if Gyo-iku-sang goes to their booth too?"
"Hmm……."
The broadcast wasn't their exclusive privilege.
He toured the festival and stopped at any booth that caught his eye.
Even if they had stolen a few customers, the other side was still packed.
And above all, they had the unique item called "steak."
It's fine. They won't make it with a Japanese feel the way we did.
The seafood pajeon and cube steak they had served Gyo-iku-sang.
They had specially requested a Japanese vibe.
Myeong-hun's careful work had paid off.
The other side was serving a dish that simply couldn't be given that treatment.
Was there room for technique on a hunk of grilled meat?
That Sora girl was disgustingly diligent too.
Judged on taste? That guy even says tteokbokki is bad. We're at an absolute advantage.
Yu-jun was already certain of his victory.
"Gyo-iku-sang?"
An untimely event.
No—apparently it had been announced in advance.
I feel like there was something like that.
The guidebook Hye-ri had given me.
I had flipped through it in one second, so nothing stuck.
But I did remember hearing about it from the club members.
That a broadcast crew might come to film.
"Will he come to us too?"
"He will……."
"True, with this many customers."
Normally a non-popular club like the Stock Club would have no connection to this.
Broadcast stations weren't idle; they naturally hit the popular spots first.
"Sir, this place is selling steak!"
"It came from Japan, you know."
"Ah, no, that wasn't what I was trying to say……."
That popularity.
We had only just gained it.
From a visual standpoint it was perfect broadcast material.
The broadcast camera stepped up in front of the booth.
Looks like they intended to film our club as well.
"Steak, is it…… I already ate plenty earlier."
"Sir! This place isn't selling cubes—they're selling real whole steaks!"
The staff were actively pushing him.
They wouldn't want to miss food this camera-friendly.
Gyo-iku-sang wore a somewhat displeased face.
But judging by the atmosphere, it was almost certain to happen.
"Senior, senior!"
"I'm not deaf."
"The broadcast crew is here to film—what do we do?"
"Auto-K?"
At our club?
It could be startling.
Hye-ri was sending SOS signals with a face full of tension.
The food issue.
I had made it, after all.
It was only natural that I should handle the response.
Gyo-iku-sang, huh.
A name that stuck in my memory.
Of course—I was something of a food-industry person myself.
Our directions simply differed.
Draw a Venn diagram and the overlapping parts were clear.
"Hello! We're from CBS. Would it be possible to meet the club president?"
"The president is……."
"Ah, that would be me."
There were plenty of other controversies surrounding him as well.
If even I knew about them, that said everything.
If I stroke his ego he'll probably say nice things.
I knew his tastes that well.
Praise Japanese culture a little and he melted.
A narrow-minded man.
Playing along to grab mass-media attention was one option, but—
"Is this a place that sells steak? As everyone knows, steak originally came from Japan……."
"Yes, would you like to try some? We're going for a completely American style, though."
"American style?!"
Picking a fight was also an option.