Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Kind Advice for a Neighbor
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‘It might come off as nosy….’
But wasn’t it a shame?
Handwritten menus were posted all over the shop, complete with prices. The prices were reasonable, and the place was spotless. The owner’s friendly greetings showed just how much love he poured into the business.
Yet the key dish was like this. No wonder business wasn’t booming.
He didn’t show it in front of customers, but he must have been tearing his hair out every month over the losses.
‘Still, it’s a small shop run single-handedly, so he’s saved on labor costs and managed to hold on this long.’
While we finished our meal, the only other sale was one takeout order of tteokbokki. No need to check the ledger to see how things stood.
“Try switching to a tteokbokki pan about half the size of this one.”
Just a casual comment. Customers often chime in with opinions on the taste or menu, so if he brushed it off as one of those, that’d be that.
The snack bar owner’s eyes went wide at the out-of-the-blue remark. I gave a quick bow and turned to leave.
I was just about to open the door.
“Wait a sec!”
The owner called us back. I turned slowly, and he asked with a desperate look on his face.
“What do you mean? Change the tteokbokki pan…?”
“…….”
“Was there something wrong during your meal?”
That look in his eyes.
New owners struggle to diagnose issues in their own shop. Objectivity is tough.
That’s when they listen for feedback from customers. When I first started out, I even secretly followed people leaving the store to eavesdrop on their honest thoughts.
It must be that desperate hope.
Business isn’t going well, no clue why, grasping at straws—so he grabs a departing customer to ask what’s wrong.
As if I wouldn’t understand.
“The tteokbokki pan. You got it on recommendation from the vendors at Central Market, right?”
“Huh? How did you….”
“Who doesn’t go there when prepping to open a shop?”
I shrugged, and the owner’s eyes bugged out. Probably because I looked too young to be talking business.
Kim Jong-chun, who’d been gauging the situation, chimed in quietly.
“What’s Central Market?”
“It’s where they sell all kinds of kitchen tools. Commercial-grade stuff you can’t find in regular stores.”
“There’s a place like that?”
“I’ll introduce you sometime. Good to pop in whenever you have time. It’s the first place to reflect market trends.”
Amid all those kitchenware shops, you have to stay on top of trends to stand out.
What new sectors are popping up in the food industry? What’s the latest cooking gear? Just browsing is fun.
“If you tell them you’re opening a snack bar, they recommend a big pan like that?”
“Y-yeah. When I first started, I didn’t know anyone nearby… so I got a lot of advice there.”
As expected.
“But why’s that pan a problem? Don’t most snack bars use ones that size?”
Kim Jong-chun slipped in again, and the owner nodded along.
Sure, a big tteokbokki pan has advantages. Maximizing visual appeal is top of the list.
But for a brand-new snack bar not yet on track, I wouldn’t recommend one that size.
Because….
“Owner. Can you sell out one full pan of tteokbokki in a day?”
“…No. Not all of it….”
“Not just a little left over—more than half, right?”
“Yeah.”
The owner hung his head, embarrassed.
“Then you reuse the leftovers the next day, adding water and simmering again.”
“…….”
“It might look fine, but the texture changes. Customers who love chewy tteokbokki bail first, leaving even more. It’s a vicious cycle.”
A classic newbie mistake at snack bars.
They haven’t figured out daily sales volume yet, but copy other shops and fill a huge pan anyway.
Fixed ideas are scary.
“Switch to half the size, and the tteokbokki flavor will shine much better. The sauce itself is good.”
“…….”
“Oh, and don’t put kitchen towels on the fritters. I get it’s for dust, but they get soggy fast that way.”
That was all the advice I could offer.
Customer service, cleaning, hygiene—he seemed on top of it without me saying.
The owner’s expression wasn’t great when I glanced over. Maybe annoyed at a know-nothing butting in, or despairing at his mistakes.
Up to him whether to take it.
That’s the extent of what I could say.
“…Thank you.”
Then the owner bowed deeply. I awkwardly bowed back, and he continued, face crumpling.
Whoa, was he… crying?!
“I-I’m such an idiot, didn’t know that, just wondered every day why no customers… Tried not to think negative, cleaned extra hard, smiled and greeted everyone… But sales stayed flat, so what was I doing wrong… Every day, that thought….”
He burst into sobs.
Kim Jong-chun hurriedly grabbed tissues from nearby and handed them over. The owner wiped his eyes.
“Here, take more.”
“Sniff… Thank you.”
After a bit, he calmed down enough to stop crying.
My mouth felt bitter somehow.
“Business doesn’t always go as planned, huh?”
“…Yeah.”
“Hard work doesn’t guarantee results. That’s why it’s tough.”
He nodded at my comfort.
“My kids loved my homemade tteokbokki. Said it tasted better than store-bought, that Mom’s cooking was the best. That encouragement gave me courage to open up….”
Happens more than you’d think.
Everyone says it’s delicious at home. I never take advice from close ones on new recipes.
They always say it’s good.
Few people tell the cook to their face it sucks. Especially friends or family.
Grateful for the love, but it spells trouble in food business.
Casual mindset in this industry? Bloodbath waiting.
“I’ll try what you said. Thanks, kid.”
I scratched my head, sheepish.
“No, sorry for butting in. …But I meant it about the sauce.”
Kids’ “Mom’s food is the best!” is mostly love.
“You’ve got real cooking talent. Tweak a bit, and regulars will flock.”
Just didn’t know large-batch cooking. But good instincts—tteokbokki spread but seasoning was spot-on.
Plenty of potential there.
“…Kid. What’s your name?”
“Huh?”
Sudden name request? Puzzled, I saw his teary eyes gazing earnestly.
“So grateful. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but sounds like you’re opening nearby. Right?”
“Yeah, that’s the plan.”
Kim Jong-chun jumped in.
“You’ll come often, right?”
“Probably. Lots to watch in the early days.”
“Anything you order from now on is free. We’ll see each other a lot—nice to know names.”
His smile beamed, no trace of tears. …Customer service was flawless.
“But tip me off if you spot anything, like today. Deal?”
Ha. Veteran of decades, charmed bare-handed?
“I’m Song Woo-yeon. Looking forward to it.”
Sure, why not.
We needed allies in this district anyway.
“I’m Han Mi-ae.”
We shook hands, grinning. Already felt like good neighbors.
Vrrr—.
“A bit more to the left! Left! Looks a tad crooked? Ah, perfect! Spot on now!”
With Kim Jong-chun’s go-ahead, the crew got to work.
Big sign, sleek interior. Optimized layout inside.
Everything perfect.
“Heh heh… Ha ha ha!”
Kim Jong-chun burst out laughing. With the sign up, it finally felt real.
Through all the grueling steps, now the real start!
So much hardship. Even during renovations, he fretted about scams, like before.
Of course, someone recommended a solid contractor, easing worries….
Tap.
Someone patted his shoulder. He whipped around to a welcome face.
“What’re you doing?”
“Oh, Woo-yeon. Just hung the sign.”
“Figured. Hm….”
Song Woo-yeon looked up at the new sign.
[Hapjae Neighborhood Gukbap 0212 Nowol Branch]
Unlike the main store, the district name was added small beside it. And one more change.
Not just the branch—the main store sign had a tiny new logo too….
Song Woo-yeon smiled at the corner.
[The Song]
The logo was stylishly etched. Meaning [Hapjae Neighborhood Gukbap 0212] fell under [The Song] brand.
‘Just two shops now. …But I’m confident.’
Confident he’d make [The Song] a food industry giant, second to none in Korea.
“…But Woo-yeon, thinking about tomorrow’s opening, I’m so nervous I won’t sleep. What do I do?”
Of course, priority was nailing this first branch opening.