Chapter 104
Chapter 104
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 104
Chapter Title: The Disruptive Diner
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‘Speaking loud enough for everyone to hear...’
It was grating, but not quite enough to call him out on it. He wasn’t hurling insults directly at me.
He hadn’t even summoned a server to lodge a formal complaint.
He was just loudly airing his grievances for all to hear.
Of course, that alone had the staff fidgeting and glancing nervously his way.
‘Don’t let it get to you.’
I’d come here to enjoy myself. No need to let him ruin my mood.
Regardless of the customer’s antics, the amuse-bouche was exquisite.
It delighted both the eyes and the palate.
Bong Kang-min’s signature technique—making one ingredient masquerade as another—was particularly fun.
Molecular gastronomy, perhaps? The egg yolk burst like flying fish roe, sparking instant delight.
‘Fun, sure, but way too labor-intensive.’
To achieve that texture and appearance, you first had to drip the raw ingredient mixed with alginate into a calcium chloride solution, drop by drop.
The process was fiddly and precise; if you didn’t handle each drop with care, the sizes would vary, ruining the visual appeal.
All that effort made it unsuitable for large batches. And prepping it fresh per order took too much time.
In short, it was the kind of technique you wouldn’t dare attempt outside high-end cuisine.
‘Too bad. If only there were an easier way.’
For someone like me, targeting the masses with a high-volume, low-margin strategy, it was a pie in the sky.
Which only made it more visually tempting.
As I savored the amuse-bouche, the earlier irritation faded into oblivion.
Until the next dish arrived—mine first.
“Ha!”
A scoff of disbelief rang out from the next table.
‘He must think he arrived before me.’
I’d stepped away to the restroom before the amuse-bouche came, and they’d arrived in the interim.
Since I’d returned after they sat down, he probably assumed I was the latecomer getting served ahead.
‘If he’d said it outright, I could’ve explained. But no.’
With no direct confrontation, I couldn’t figure out how to clear the misunderstanding.
Sure, a mix-up in serving order might be mildly annoying, but was it worth complaining like this?
As that thought crossed my mind, perfect timing: grumbling from the next table.
“The temperature’s off. See? That’s what happens when the order gets messed up. Temperature is everything in food. Tsk, the servers are ruining perfectly good dishes.”
To this critic—or foodie, whatever he was—that must’ve been a crucial benchmark. His pen scratched noisily across his notepad.
I was dying to know what he was jotting down. Or maybe I had a pretty good guess, and that’s what turned my stomach.
Up to that point, though? Fine.
Easy enough to ignore.
I mulled it over internally but kept my poker face, pretending to enjoy my meal.
Reacting would just feed the troll. Better if this blew over without incident.
If it were my place, I’d handle it. But this was Bong Kang-min’s restaurant.
No sense risking smearing his reputation by jumping in. Better to let the nonsense go in one ear and out the other.
I was blissfully tuning it out, savoring my food,
when...
“Are you deaf or something?”
Apparently, even my silence irked him.
‘I get it. Dressed like some big-shot reviewer, he’s used to everyone catering to him whenever he complains openly.’
I could sense the staff squirming. But he wanted more—not just them, but the other guests watching him nervously, unsure what to do.
‘If he’d never dealt with a real troublemaker before, maybe.’
But he’d picked the wrong target.
I wasn’t as pushover as I looked. ‘You complain. I’ll eat.’ I steadfastly continued my meal.
Then,
“......”
I spotted the server hesitating in front of me, holding the next course.
Without a second thought, I gestured for her to serve the next table first.
I wasn’t that sensitive anyway, and if yielding once meant no more grumbling, it was worth it.
But the server bit her lip and served me first.
She explained the dish with practiced poise—clearly opting for the proper order despite my concession.
My eyes widened slightly at that,
and sure enough, the next table erupted in indignation.
Moments later, another server approached them with their dish. Then, offering to pour the paired wine, she tilted the bottle...
Clink!
“Ah!”
Before she could finish, he yanked his glass away.
The unfinished pour soaked the tablecloth red.
“What the hell!”
The next table scowled and bellowed. It looked like server error at first glance, though he’d orchestrated it.
“What is this? You kidding me? I paid top dollar to be here! And this is the service?!”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
Understandably upset, but the server apologized immediately, no excuses.
“We’ll replace the tablecloth right away and reset your dish.”
“That’s it?”
“Pardon?”
“I came here to have a nice year-end dinner! Not to have my mood ruined! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have come!”
The classic “hurt feelings” offense.
Demanding compensation for his bruised ego.
By now, his game was crystal clear.
‘Yeah, they’re everywhere.’
Causing a scene tarnishes the restaurant’s name, regardless of fault.
When customers think of the place, if they recall shouting matches instead of great food, it’s game over.
Bad for any eatery, but fatal for fine dining.
The price tag buys not just food, but good memories and stellar service.
Even the world’s best meal feels lacking if you don’t get your money’s worth in hospitality.
‘He’s exploiting that.’
In these situations, restaurants waive the bill—and offer extra—to shoo away problem customers.
‘Reminds me of those stock scammers. Dining edition?’
Funny to call them “fine-dining scammers.” Year-end dinner courses were prime targets.
Botch this, and foot traffic to [Green Grass] could plummet.
‘That’s why he’s pulling this for a payout.’
His initial gripes about me were probably just fishing for leverage.
“Get your boss out here.”
“I-I’ll call the manager first, sir.”
“No, get the owner!”
The server’s eyes filled with dismay and fear as she faced the raging customer.
And he reveled in it, reaffirming his dominance.
A vicious cycle.
Inevitably, with customer-staff dynamics, it was somewhat unavoidable.
That’s how things escalated to this mess.
“Get the owner out here!”
Dripping in red wine, the server stood firm as the fine-dining scammer raised his voice higher.
“I’m the owner here.”
Word must’ve reached the kitchen, because Bong Kang-min emerged from the back in his chef’s whites.
“What seems to be the problem, sir?”
The customer flinched at Bong Kang-min’s question. Face stern, stature imposing, he exuded pressure.
But backing down would disqualify him as a pro.
“I-I was trying to let it slide, but you must think I’m a pushover! Right?!”
“Sir, please step aside so we can discuss this privately.”
Bong Kang-min knew the drill with screamers like this.
‘Right. Isolate from other guests. Priority one.’
But unlike regular complaints, these folks thrive on the chaos.
No way he’d comply meekly.
Sure enough, he raised his voice instead.
“No! Did I say anything wrong? Yeah? No? Your staff is a mess! Service is garbage!”
As if he hadn’t baited them into it.
“Spilling wine, screwing up the serving order!”
You made them spill the wine. And you misunderstood the order.
I grumbled inwardly. But it wasn’t my place to intervene. Guests began murmuring. If they didn’t quell this fast, the vibe would be ruined.
“We’ll prepare fresh wine and food. As for the serving order, I’m not sure what you mean. We serve courses in the order of arrival and placement.”
“That’s the problem!”
Then, out of nowhere, he jabbed a finger at me.
“Why’s that table getting served first? I got here before them! You giving them VIP treatment ’cause they’re celebrities?!”
Huh?
I’d been content to watch from the sidelines.
But if you’re handing me an invitation like that...
Thanks?