Chapter 91
Chapter 91
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 91
Chapter Title: No More Excuses
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“...Woo-yeon.”
I turned around slowly at the voice calling my name. Kim Jong-chun was staring at me with trembling eyes.
His hair was a total mess, his face openly displaying his bewilderment. He must have rushed over in a panic, his bare feet peeking out from his slippers.
“Uncle. You're late.”
“...”
Kim Jong-chun looked like he was agonizing over what to say.
Should he drop to his knees and apologize right away? Or maybe crack a joke to lighten the mood?
But he chose neither, simply gazing at me with the wide eyes of someone caught red-handed.
I barely suppressed the surge of anger rising inside me.
I fought back the sigh threatening to escape. Sensing the tense atmosphere, a few customers were glancing my way.
Or maybe they recognized me from my TV appearances and were debating whether to say something. Either way, the timing sucked.
I lowered my voice to a whisper.
“We'll talk later. There are too many customers.”
I tried to keep all emotion out of my words. Kim Jong-chun glanced at me cautiously before speaking up.
“Woo-yeon. Hear me out. It's not what you think.”
“President Kim Jong-chun.”
Not 'Uncle', but 'President Kim Jong-chun'.
He seemed to grasp the meaning behind my words, clamping his mouth shut again.
Right. We weren't 'Woo-yeon' and 'Uncle' anymore. We were 'President Song Woo-yeon' from headquarters and 'Kim Jong-chun', the franchise owner.
“Later. Let's talk then.”
It wasn't a suggestion anymore.
Kim Jong-chun nodded silently. No point raising his voice with customers around.
“I'll come back after closing. Don't touch the kitchen. Stay put.”
“...”
“I've already seen everything anyway. If it's even a little different from what I saw, then...”
I stopped myself before finishing the sentence.
“Anyway. See you later. Good luck with the rest of the day.”
I gave a quick bow and walked out. Kim Jong-chun didn't move a muscle, frozen like a statue, even as I brushed past him.
Swoosh.
The cool night air hit me as I stepped out. The chill breeze against my cheek helped clear my head a bit.
“Haa...”
I let out the sigh I'd been holding and leaned against the wall.
My mouth tasted bitterly foul.
The Hapjae Neighborhood Gukbap 0212 sign blinked late into the night. It should have been dark by now, but the restaurant lights blazed brightly.
I dragged my feet as I walked.
My heart felt just as heavy as his must have. My body felt like it weighed a ton. But what could I do?
Slide. I opened the door and stepped into the empty dining hall. Kim Jong-chun, who had been sitting there dazed alone, jumped to his feet.
“Woo-yeon.”
He called out reflexively, then caught himself.
“No, should I say President Song...? Sir?”
Awkward honorifics.
“It's fine. I'll talk casually too.”
If I treated him strictly as a franchise owner, I wouldn't have much to say to Kim Jong-chun. One more strike, and he'd be out under the three-strikes rule.
If I counted this as an official inspection, he'd already failed the standards and qualified for termination.
But if I played it as just Song Woo-yeon stopping by personally and noticing, we could gloss it over before company action kicked in.
That's the crossroads I stood at today.
Depending on Kim Jong-chun's attitude, the purpose of my visit would shift entirely.
Hiding my intentions, I glared at him. He clearly knew he'd messed up, looking sheepish.
“Uncle. What the hell were you thinking?”
I asked again, even though I already knew the reason.
“I told you over and over: don't leave opening and closing to someone else.”
“Yeah...”
“Anything to say for yourself?”
At my question, Kim Jong-chun hemmed and hawed before mumbling softly.
“At first, I did it all myself. I really did. But then I got the flu and couldn't come in for about a week. And during that time... the place ran just fine without me.”
“...”
“After that, I started thinking, do I really need to do it all myself?”
It was the same old story, as expected.
“You know how hard I worked nonstop, day and night, to get this place established. Right? Up at dawn brewing stock, sleeping in that tiny back room, terrified the lights might go out.”
“Yeah, that happened.”
“I went through all that hell, and now the place is set, and I'm making decent money. Don't I deserve some time to rest?”
“...”
“It's been forever since I had dinner with the kids because of work, and rare to even have breakfast together because of those dawn starts. But even when I was sick with the flu... hearing them laugh made me so happy.”
His voice grew watery as he spoke, emotion welling up.
“Sure, making money is great. But how can anyone just charge ahead forever without stopping?”
“...”
“You might be able to, but I can't, Woo-yeon. Normal people can't.”
He might have a point.
All these confessions I'd heard countless times ended the same way. They couldn't handle the monotony of the routine.
'It's not hardship that breaks people, but sloth.'
That nailed it.
The hardworking Kim Jong-chun from the start was gone, replaced by one making excuses for his laziness with his kids.
“Got it, Uncle. Time with family? Super important. I get it more than most.”
I curled my lip into a smirk.
“I don't have any, so it hits harder.”
“Woo-yeon, that's not what I...!”
“But this is just cowardly. Uncle, did you really start coming in late and leaving early just to spend time with your kids?”
I strode into the kitchen.
“That's really all there is to it? You can swear on your life that everything else stayed exactly the same?”
“Well...”
Swipe.
I ran my finger along the edge of the stove. It came away sticky with grime.
Just as I thought.
No one messes up just one thing.
A bad franchise owner never slips up in only one area. If they can't stick to opening and closing times, they can't maintain hygiene either.
I'd been in and out of this kitchen countless times. One quick scan told me everything that had changed.
“How long since you cleaned this kitchen yourself?”
“...”
“You left it all to the part-timers, right? So they only clean what's visible. Places like this? Ignored.”
I spun the container holding the utensils, exposing the dust piled up on the back.
“This is exactly why I drilled into you to handle opening and closing yourself.”
“...I got nothing to say.”
Kim Jong-chun squeezed his eyes shut as he spoke. But I wasn't done.
“Uncle. When was the last time you checked the stock?”
“The stock? Chef Choi handles that just fine...”
“Handles it just fine?”
My voice sharpened involuntarily.
“Why did I teach you kitchen work in the first place? So you could oversee it all and not get pushed around by the head chef. And now it's 'Chef Choi handles it just fine'?”
Does that even make sense?
“You're the owner of this place. I don't know Chef Choi at all, but you're the boss. So shouldn't you be the one watching over it most closely?”
“Y-Yeah.”
“Then how can you leave the most important part—the cooking—to someone else and act like it's not your problem?”
“Not my problem? Woo-yeon, don't think like that. Chef Choi is really reliable.”
“Oh, yeah?”
I twisted my mouth into a sneer for emphasis.
“So reliable that instead of brewing separate stocks and blending fresh each time, he's just dumping it all in one pot and boiling it nonstop.”
“What?”
“Still don't get it?”
I flung open the stock pot. Grabbed a ladle, scooped some into a bowl.
Then I did the same from the pot right next to it.
The colors were identical.
“...!”
“You learned kitchen work, Uncle, so you know. Bone stock and meat stock look totally different. But here, both pots have the exact same stuff.”
Why? Simple.
“Blending fresh each time is a hassle. Kitchen staff always find the easy way.”
“...No way.”
“No way, huh?”
I shoved the two bowls of stock under his nose.
“Do they look different to you?”
“...”
“Taste it. If there's even a hint of difference, I'll apologize.”
But Kim Jong-chun couldn't pick up the spoon. He knew without trying.
“Why aren't you tasting? Come on, that'll show the difference.”
“...”
His face darkened instantly.
That was enough scolding. I let out a deep sigh and continued.
“Even giving you the benefit of the doubt on opening and closing, you should've at least inspected properly later.”
“...”
“But you didn't, and you're pulling this 'time with the kids' excuse? That's bullshit. It's just an excuse.”
Kim Jong-chun stared at the floor, unable to respond. But the look on his face wasn't guilt or regret.
It was just the expression of someone wishing this ordeal would end soon.