Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Happiness Snacks Deal
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“You came much faster than I expected.”
I set down a cup of coffee and said. Han Mi-ae wrapped both hands around her coffee mug with a slightly tense expression.
After taking a sip of the strong black coffee, her mind seemed to clear a bit.
“I figured it would take at least ten days if you were late, or three days at the earliest.”
“…So you were pretty sure I’d come looking for you.”
A peculiar glint lingered in her eyes toward me. I could play humble if needed, but now was the time to show some confidence.
“Of course.”
With a faint smile, I continued.
“You said you saw real results from my advice. Even if you hesitated, you couldn’t just dismiss it as nonsense.”
Truth be told, I hadn’t been certain—just thinking it probably wouldn’t happen. But if sprinkling a little MSG could build trust, it was still a win.
“If you partner with me, as I mentioned earlier, I’ll actively support you across the board—from business advice to new menu development, store expansion, staff management, and more.”
As I laid it out seriously, Han Mi-ae nodded.
“As for sharing operating profits… it’ll work like this.”
I pulled out the materials I’d prepared back when we opened the Hapjae Neighborhood Gukbap 0212 branch. The copies I’d handed off to Kim Jong-chun earlier were gathering dust in the supply cabinet—turns out they’d come in handy after all.
“It’ll be a retro-concept snack bar, just like this gukbap joint. More than anything, the exterior has to scream connection—even a passerby should glance over and think, ‘Huh, are those two spots related?’ That’s how we generate synergy.”
If we nailed that old-school, nostalgic vibe like Hapjae Neighborhood Gukbap, it’d stand out uniquely at first glance.
“And we won’t overhaul the menu much, but right now it’s too generic, so we’ll need at least one signature dish.”
She’d said that when she ran the snack bar before, tweaking things with a bit of Hong Kong-style flair had produced some solid hits.
Those had targeted younger crowds, though. Here, with a broader age range, we’d stick to flavors people already knew and loved.
“I’ll set up a proper meeting in a few days to walk you through the details, so you can hear it all then.”
With that, I snuck a quick glance at Han Mi-ae’s face.
Even after experiencing my advice firsthand, revamping the tteokbokki recipe and ditching the kitchen towels under the fries was a far cry from this.
The interior work alone would cost a fortune, not to mention the lost revenue from closing shop in the meantime.
And rent didn’t stop just because business did—the pressure would be immense.
I explained all that in detail. Han Mi-ae listened attentively, without a hint of impatience, then nodded once more.
“I’ll do it.”
“…You’re sure about deciding right away?”
Somehow, the dynamic felt flipped.
Normally, I’d be the one pitching the franchise deal while she hesitated. Now here I was, urging her to think it over.
Snap decisions bred regrets, and regrets meant she might balk at my proposals down the line.
That was a risk I didn’t want to take.
“It’s fine.”
But Han Mi-ae’s face brimmed with conviction. She looked at me with warm eyes and said.
“I wasn’t great at the business, but I stuck with it for a good long while. Even as my kids and husband dialed back the encouragement and told me to quit, I didn’t. They’d scold me for wrecking my health over pocket change, but I kept showing up anyway.”
Knowing how tough it was, I couldn’t help but admire her diligence and grit.
That was why I’d stuck my nose in at the start. Her passion for the place shone through clear as day.
“It always felt like stumbling through fog. I knew there was no single ‘right’ way to run a business, but there had to be some direction… Instead, I just wandered blindly. I fought not to burn out, but people do, inevitably.”
Humans aren’t made of iron.
Hard work grinds you down bit by bit.
“Then suddenly, it was like a streetlamp flicked on overhead.”
“…My advice wasn’t all that groundbreaking.”
“It felt that way to me, at least.”
Ultimately, acting on the advice had been her call.
I knew all too well how many owners couldn’t bring themselves to do it—painfully so.
“Now I can see where to head, how to get there. Just that bare minimum direction puts my mind at ease.”
Han Mi-ae broke into a wide smile.
“Thanks to you, running the place is fun again lately. When customers rave about the tteokbokki, it makes my whole day.”
Her grin was so bright, it lifted anyone watching.
“That’s why I didn’t hesitate. I’ll run the interior stuff by the family, though.”
Her bashful chuckle was endearing.
“Please take care of me.”
I silently clasped the hand she extended.
“…Likewise.”
“Wow…”
Kim Jong-chun scratched his head as he stared at the door Han Mi-ae had left through.
“Already kicking off the next venture?”
“We should keep an eye on it a bit longer, but sales here look pretty stable.”
“Glad the place is growing, but it stings that you’re heading out, Woo-yeon.”
Kim Jong-chun flashed a sly grin.
“Come on, don’t say stuff you don’t mean. My nitpicking must’ve been suffocating. You’re free now—shouldn’t you be thrilled?”
“What kinda cold talk is that!”
He shook his head dramatically with exaggerated flair.
“Our Woo-yeon, huh? Always popping in for taste tests, hygiene checks, ingredient inspections!”
“…….”
“But whenever something crops up, you handle it on the spot. Feels like having a million soldiers at my back—reliable, y’know?”
A rookie owner leaning on me was understandable. But he needed to build some independence as the boss.
Like how Lee In-cheol had forged his ironclad confidence running the main shop solo for years, always drawing a clear line between owner and employee roles—even while handing me the reins.
‘Lions toss their cubs off cliffs, after all.’
Not that Kim Jong-chun was my cub or a lion.
Listening to him only solidified my resolve. If I stuck around for the early setup, he’d end up overly dependent.
As I untied my apron and stowed it away, I said.
“You’ll need to hire more help soon.”
“When you shift to the other store, yeah—we’ll need at least one more hall server.”
“No.”
I shot down his musing flat.
“Not hall serving.”
“Huh?”
“Hire for the kitchen. You…”
“Huh?”
He tilted his head, puzzled.
Which made sense. Ever since the Hapjae Neighborhood Gukbap 0212 Nowol Branch opened, our roles had been locked in.
Kim Jong-chun in the kitchen, Song Woo-yeon on the floor.
Strict man-marking, basically. Sure, we’d pitch in if the other got slammed.
So asking him to handle the floor now felt off-base. But that was my core belief.
“Floor or kitchen—both crucial, but if I had to rank ’em… I think floor edges out.”
“Yeah?”
“You meet customers directly on the floor. I told you, right? Taste is just 30%. How the owner handles guests shapes the whole vibe of the place.”
Especially for neighborhood spots like this.
“Plus, you’re a natural with people. Sticking you in the kitchen full-time would be a waste. You’d be letting all that experience rot.”
“Y-Yeah, I guess? We’ve been modeling off In-cheol’s place, so I just autopilot-focused on kitchen…”
Kim Jong-chun nodded, then suddenly whipped his head toward me.
“Wait, then why’d I handle kitchen all this time? You can do kitchen work just fine.”
Of course I could. Who do you think quantified this gukbap recipe in the first place?
But there was a reason I’d slotted him there anyway.
“It’s an open kitchen.”
“Hm…?”
“People are suckers for what they see. Boiling that massive stockpot, going with an open layout—it’s all for the visuals.”
Which made me standing there in chef whites the worst possible choice.
“No matter how good the food tastes, the second I’m cooking, trust takes a nosedive. Can’t be helped.”
Prejudice is a hell of a lens. Strong enough to fool your taste buds sometimes.
Not like I hadn’t tested it pre-regression. Even if the flavor matched—or hell, even beat the original—a young face in the kitchen drew complaints.
Easy to assume inexperience meant incompetence.
Just picture it: me, barely out of my teens, sweat-drenched over gukbap at a gukbap joint.
‘Hiring some green kid as part-timer. Lacks any real pro chops…’
That was the absolute last thing I wanted.
“So that’s why I took floor, you kitchen. But once I’m gone, that constraint vanishes. Hire dedicated kitchen staff, and you move to floor.”
“Ohhh!”
Kim Jong-chun clapped as it clicked.
“Ugh. I finally mastered kitchen work, though. Kinda bummed.”
“You needed that experience—don’t sweat it too much.”
Any restaurant owner worth their salt has to replicate 60% of their menu’s flavors themselves.
Beyond that, getting hands-on in the kitchen builds real insight into the workflow and grind—essential for a boss.
As I reassured him, my mind was already on the next step.
‘Happiness Snacks interior won’t come cheap.’
And that was just one expense among many. Sure, I could drag it out, split profits with the owners, watch my bank account grow. But why bother?
No helping it.
Earlier than planned, but it was time to meet that person.