Chapter 112
Chapter 112
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 112
Chapter Title: Jihang Township's Secret and the Penalty Broadcast
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"......Is there something special about Jihang Township?"
Jo Yi-ruk's question made me pause for a moment. My answer felt lame.
'This summer's downpours will devastate crops there, leading to skyrocketing ingredient prices all year. How do I even explain that?'
I couldn't exactly cite a rainstorm that hadn't even happened yet.
Plus, to justify why Jihang Township of all places, I'd have to rattle off specifics about monsoon fronts and affected areas. Wouldn't that sound way too suspicious?
'Everything I've done so far could pass as foresight. But nailing this one spot-on? That'd raise eyebrows for sure.'
Especially since people were already whispering that I'd been possessed by a spirit. I just flashed a big grin and brushed it off.
"The produce there is top-quality. I stopped by once by chance, and it stuck with me—really hit the spot."
"I see."
Jo Yi-ruk seemed to accept it. What could he say when I claimed it was high quality?
"Plus, boosting local specialties helps energize the produce market, right? That's important to me."
In the end, the food industry is inseparable from agriculture, fisheries, and livestock. Even before my regression, I'd overheard plenty of industry woes.
I'd agonized over it plenty of times. Like how to turn regional specialties into new menu items.
'Our country's local products are so damn good. But hardly anyone knows about them.'
They go through multiple distributors, prices inflate with bubbles, and they slip from people's hands.
If only we could fix this chronic issue. Maybe PD Kim Seol could make a show about it next time.
"You had such deep intentions behind it."
"Hahaha. Something like that."
Seemed like I'd muddled through. I chuckled awkwardly in response. But something had been nagging at me since earlier.
"Why the sudden interest in Jihang Township? We signed the contract last year—you could've asked anytime if you were curious."
Normally, Jo Yi-ruk had gotten used to my eccentric moves and would just shrug them off by now. As I tilted my head, he replied calmly.
"Most of the time, you make rational choices, President. But every now and then, you pull something totally out of left field."
"Haha."
Too many hits landing.
"And yet, those choices always turn out great."
Of course—I'm basing them on future knowledge.
"Jihang Township felt like a bit of a curveball to me, too...... So I was curious if it'd play out as another hidden ace up your sleeve." Damn, talk about sharp instincts. I felt like a criminal caught by the tail. Unable to say a word, I just smiled awkwardly, and Jo Yi-ruk grinned back like it was nothing.
"Of course, you said it was just about the produce quality this time, so probably not."
"Um. Yeah, probably. But you never know how the world turns......" "Pardon?"
"Nothing."
I brushed it off vaguely. Ahem.
Flash! Spotlights exploded overhead, turning everything white. Oof, blinding.
[Peak Viewership: 46%!]
Ear-splitting fanfare blared from all sides. Drums thundered—boom-boom-boom—building massive tension.
[MST-01's Glorious Champion!]
What a spectacle. I barely caught my champion belt slipping from my waist with one hand and hoisted it up.
[Song! Woo! Yeon!]
"Wooooah!"
Cheers from the other contestants rang out as the camera zoomed in on me.
After a few broadcasts, standing in front of the camera didn't faze me anymore.
I flashed a grin and casually pointed at the belt. A few boos—"Ooooh"—came from below.
"Aww, thank you~."
Bowing as I descended the stairs, the other participants whooped and clapped.
"Jealous~."
"Whoa."
"That belt's huge."
Everyone tossed in a comment. Before sitting, I unbuckled the belt and thrust it sky-high.
"Kyah~!"
"He's a full-on TV star now."
Gotta give 'em those money shots for the edit. Only after seeing the PD thumbs-up did I take my seat.
"Congrats on the win. Won't go down that easy today, huh?"
A snarky comedian fired the first jab.
"Haha. I've come prepared to fight harder today—stay tuned."
He flinched, clearly not expecting the clapback. There were new faces and a few vaguely familiar from last shoot. As I exchanged greetings, the Mastel mascot MC—unique outfit and all—cut in.
"Congrats on the win, Song Woo-yeon. However, your segment from the last broadcast violated Mastel Review Committee regulations." Review regulations? What the hell? Eyes wide at this bombshell, the MC continued.
"Due to confirmed health hazards from excessive sugar use......" Oh, for fuck's sake. Laughter erupted—"Pfft!"—from all sides right as she finished. They'd all seen the Song Sugar internet backlash. Just drown me in that sugar image, why don't you? "The winner's privilege voucher will be confiscated." Tch. Disappointing, but whatever. If it ends there, fine. 'Win again today, and we're good, right?' I was confident this time, so no sweat over the voucher. Clang! Until the red lights flooded the waiting room.
"W-What's that?"
"What's going on?"
An eerie, menacing vibe settled in. Everyone jumped, glancing around, as black-suited men strode in.
"Who are you?"
And then......
"For violation of broadcast regulations, you are sentenced to outdoor penalty broadcast."
"Pardon?"
"Let's go."
"Wait, what?!"
Powerless, I was dragged off by the arms gripping me. Outside the studio? I never heard about this!
Whiiiish...... A barren wind brushed my cheek. Damn, nice weather. Why the weather talk? How could I not? Getting yanked outside outta nowhere was ridiculous enough, but the "kitchen" they'd dragged me to......
"In this day and age, how'd they even find a spot with a traditional furnace?"
A full-on outdoor setup—like something from a temple or old palace. A classic wood-fired kitchen hearth.
"At least they didn't say chop the wood. Kinda decent of 'em."
Neatly split logs were stacked nearby, so no ax work for me. Still absurd as hell.
"At least they hauled out a big screen for you viewers. Small mercies, right?"
Chats flooded in as I spoke.
"Don't even ask. They booted me from the studio for using too much sugar."
Viewers piled in, cracking up at my sorry state. Yeah, laugh it up. Time to cook.
"Sigh. What're they expecting me to make out here?"
Bottled water only, no fridge. Too many constraints for real cooking.
Worst was the portable burner? Nah—a full furnace.
"Whew. Not sure how many of you have a furnace at home. But the problem is fire control. Campers might get it—no low, medium, high like on a gas stove or burner."
"But who am I? Song Woo-yeon. Weather's perfect for evening beer snacks, right?"
Crisis and opportunity—two sides of the same coin.
"Grab some brews or makgeolli from the corner store, order mixed pancakes—mmm. Perfection. Can't go out? Make 'em yourself! I'll show you furnace pancakes today~."
Nice storytelling hook.
Chats lit up: "Ooh," "Sounds tasty." I hammered it home.
"No sugar today. Song Sugar? Not today."
Then I hauled out the massive oil drum I'd hidden and grinned.
"Oil's the star today."
Song Sugar who? Call me Song Oil.Glug glug glug! I poured oil mercilessly into the iron cauldron on the furnace. More oil means tastier pancakes.
"Pour the oil, light the furnace below. While it heats, prep the rest."
Good. Sudden outdoor stream, but my show's on track.
Nail the cooking show, and today's win is in the bag!
......I thought.
Sizzle-crackle! "Huh?" Until the thickly battered sweet potato pancake hit the oil and turned into a charred lump. '......Oh, shit.' I muttered inwardly. The oil looked calm, but instinct screamed. 'The oil's burnt!'