A Bowl of Ramen from Childhood
Myeongran Jeot Konan picked up his chopsticks with trembling hands. He carefully split the plump, jiggly yolk. Drip— It melted thickly like cheese, flowing out. He soaked his noodles thoroughly in the yolk and twirled them up with a flourish.
Slurp—
“……!”
The nutty yolk coating blended perfectly with the curly noodles soaked in fiery red broth like molten lava. The two fused harmoniously in his mouth, creating an entirely new flavor.
Ohhh…!
Myeongran Jeot Konan closed his eyes. In his mind's eye, the curly ramen noodles transformed into a dragon and ascended to the heavens.
The dragon soaring high in the sky soon returned clutching something in its jaws. A small box.
What is this?
Myeongran Jeot Konan asked, but the dragon simply stared at him intently. As if to say you should know better.
The old gentleman cautiously opened the box.
Flash—
No way! Th-this is…?
When he came to, he was back in his very early childhood. A cute little girl in front of him asked,
“Hey, do you like ramen?”
“Ramen?”
Myeongran Jeot Konan blinked blankly and echoed her.
“Yeah. You've tried it, right? That yummy stuff. The super curly kind.”
“…No.”
His mouth moved on its own, answering glumly.
“What? Liar.”
“Not a lie. Mom said it's bad for you and wouldn't let me.”
“How have you never tasted something so delicious?”
“…Beats me.”
Tsk— The girl clicked her tongue and strode off somewhere.
“Come on.”
“……?”
“What're you waiting for? Come with me. I'll make you ramen.”
The scene shifted. They were inside a familiar family home.
“Here, eat up.”
“O-okay…”
Slurp—
His first bowl of ramen, at his friend's house.
“……!”
“How is it?”
“A-ma-zing!”
“Hehe, eat lots.”
Myeongran Jeot Konan had tasted countless dishes in his life—more than he could count. He'd savored foods so delicious his eyes nearly popped out.
But no dish compared to the shock of that first childhood ramen.
“…Hey.”
“Yeah?”
The girl before him averted her eyes and grumbled curtly.
“If you wanna eat ramen again, come to my house. I'll make it for you.”
“Okay!”
She beamed at his enthusiastic reply.
“Finish it up and let's play!”
The familiar home began to fade. The little girl before him gradually matured into a wise woman etched with the traces of time.
“Want me to make you some ramen?”
He smiled gently.
“…Yeah.”
The dragon that had brought his old memory watched the scene and nodded in satisfaction. Then it ascended back to the heavens without a second thought.
“…….”
Myeongran Jeot Konan slowly opened his eyes. He wiped the tears from his cheeks.
Then he scooped more noodles onto the pot lid and slurped them down voraciously. With kimchi, with broth, with egg.
“Sluuuurp— Ahh. Sluuuurp— Ahh.”
It was spicy, but delicious. In the end, he lifted the entire pot and gulped down the broth.
Not a drop left. The old gentleman drained it all.
“Kahaaah—!”
He rinsed his mouth with cool water and daintily dabbed it with a napkin. He wiped around his reddened eyes.
“Heh heh… So spicy, it brought tears to my eyes.”
He neatly placed his spoon and chopsticks in the pot and raised his hand.
A black-haired waitress approached promptly.
“All done? Shall I clear it?”
“Yes.”
As she cleared the dishes with a clatter, Myeongran Jeot Konan cautiously spoke up.
“Might I… see the chef?”
“Ah, sorry. The boss is busy cooking for the other guests, so it might be tough.”
“Just a moment, even a very brief one? I'd love a quick word.”
“Sir…”
“It'll be quick. Please, I'm begging you.”
Myeongran Jeot Konan bowed his head. The waitress bowed back.
“I'm truly sorry. But if you have a message, I can pass it on.”
Sighing at the firm refusal, Myeongran Jeot Konan hesitated.
“Heh… I didn't want to bring this up, as it's embarrassing, but…”
He pondered briefly, then steeled himself with a resolute expression.
“I'm something of a renowned food critic.”
“Pardon?”
“You might know me as Myeongran Jeot Konan. The food was so incredible—please, just this once.”
“…….”
“I want to thank him in person. I'm not usually one to beg like this. Please, just once…”
“Well…”
The waitress trailed off awkwardly.
“What's going on?”
Then the black-haired waiter approached—the one who'd seated Myeongran Jeot Konan.
“Ah, sunbae. It's that…”
After hearing the story, the waiter thought for a moment, then said,
“I'll ask the boss.”
“Thank you! Thank you!”
“But don't get your hopes up.”
The two bowed politely and hurried off. Soon, the waiter returned.
“The boss gave special permission.”
“…! Really?!”
“This way.”
Myeongran Jeot Konan followed the waiter with a pounding heart.
Crunch— Crunch—
Myeongran Jeot Konan trudged through the pristine snow behind the waiter. He soon arrived at a ramshackle temporary structure. It seemed built only to block wind and falling snow.
Inside the makeshift kitchen, several burners lined up, each with a pot bubbling away. In the center stood a sweating chef.
“Boss, I brought the guest.”
“Ah, you're here.”
The chef wiped his hands on his bear-printed apron and turned around with a grin.
“Hello. You wanted to see me?”
Myeongran Jeot Konan removed his derby hat and extended his hand.
“Yes. It's an honor. I'm Myeongran Jeot Konan, humbly running a little food review blog.”
“The honor's mine.”
The old gentleman eyed the chef. A sturdy middle-aged man of short stature, with cropped hair and a firm jaw. But his eyes sparkled with a mysterious light beyond comprehension.
Great chefs were often eccentric, yet this one was surprisingly polite. Where on earth had such a talented cook dropped from?
“It was truly delicious, Chef. The best ramen of my life—no, second best.”
The old man gripped the chef's rough hand with his wrinkled ones, pouring in his heartfelt gratitude.
“Thank you. Glad you enjoyed it.”
“I'm the grateful one.”
After shaking hands, the chef stared intently at Myeongran Jeot Konan.
“…? Something on my face?”
“Hmm… Were you the one who scooped noodles onto the pot lid?”
“Indeed.”
“You know your stuff.”
The chef nodded approvingly. Myeongran Jeot Konan smiled softly.
“Heh heh. Ramen's best straight from the pot lid, right?”
“Exactly. You're a real food connoisseur.”
“…Food connoisseur?”
Myeongran Jeot Konan's eyes gleamed. A regular old man might not know, but he was a modern senior running a review blog.
“Heh heh, Chef, you're quite the quick-witted expert yourself. Ramen demands a pot, after all.”
“…Quick-witted expert? What's that?”
“Your cooking was so insanely good, even if two folks shared it and one keeled over stuffed, the other'd still rave about it.”
“…Ah, yes.”
Having flaunted his trendy slang, Myeongran Jeot Konan pressed on. His first goal was sincere thanks; this was the second.
“If I may, could I have your name?”
“My name?”
“Yes. My humble blog has readers—it could help you too.”
The chef pondered, then spoke.
“My name is…”
He paused dramatically.
“Fernandes Yoshimura Deredere Detgetgel.”
“…….”
“…….”
“…Pardon?”
“Ah, sorry. Fernandes Yoshimura Deredere Detgetgel Cheaper Than Tire Shoes.”
“…Why does it keep getting longer?”
“No idea.”
Chirp chirp— Chirp chirp—
Birds sang pleasantly on this fine Tuesday morning.
“Hmm hmm~”
I hummed as I prepped the shop for opening.
“What's up? Hura, something good happen?”
Son Da-eun asked while wiping tables.
“Haha, how'd you know?”
“What is it?”
“Boss, you know Pangwol?”
“Of course~ My daughter— Whoops.”
She suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Huh? Your daughter what?”
“Oh, uh, my girl plays that fantasy world too. Hohoho. So I know it well.”
“Ah~ Got it.”
If she knows, that speeds things up. Though weird I was clueless just months ago. Even the boss knows.
Tsk tsk. Who knew I was so behind the times?
“I'm a chef in Pangwol. Business is booming lately.”
“Ooh~ Cooking there and here?”
“Haha, pretty much.”
“Not boring?”
I wiped the counter as I replied.
“Boring? It's a blast.”
“Ooh, chef's blood runs in your veins.”
“Haha, no way.”
As if. Grandma freaks at the word “chef,” though she cooks great. Add “chef” and she panics. So I'll zip it about my future at her place this week.
“You should try Pangwol, Boss. It's fun.”
“Eh~ No interest. Felt too chaotic.”
“Tell me if you do. I'll cook you something delicious.”
“Hohoho, looks like you're not just a tteokbokki whiz~ Maybe I'll give it a shot.”
“Hehe, I'm kinda famous as a chef in Pangwol.”
Pangwol reminded me of last night's surprise guest.
Myeongran Jeot Konan. I'd browsed his blog during cooking studies and still checked it occasionally. No wonder the name rang a bell. Never dreamed the owner was such a cool, gentlemanly old man.
Though in reality, he could be a bubbly high school girl.
He asked my name out of the blue, so I blurted the first absurd thing that came to mind. As long and convoluted as possible.
Two big reasons for that.
First, hide my identity. Suspicious rankers are an issue, but Rank 8 hunting me with fire in his eyes is worse. So I made up a totally unrelated name no one could guess.
With Molrangkau's help, I disguised as a middle-aged man, changed Gold Sun and Tteoksoon-i's outfits and hair too. But better safe than sorry.
Second, prevent a second Tteokbokki Cult. It formed after charming about 1,000 with Cooking Charm. Can't imagine 3,000 rallying under one name.
So I made everyone's fake names long and varied. They'll change every time anyway.
Other minor reasons, but mainly those two.
As I thought, customers trickled in, and lunch rush hit.
And, right on cue, she arrived.
“Oppa Hura! I'm here!”
Lee Chaera bounced in and plopped right beside me without hesitation.
“Missed me?”
She grinned through her round glasses.
I swept back my sweat-damp hair and answered.
“Yeah.”
I missed her. Probably for the first time ever.
“…Wh-what'd you say?”
Her eyes widened like her glasses.
Thanks to Berry Merchant Group's info net and Molrangkau's flashy sign, crowds came day one. But not enough.
No way. To draw 3,000+ a week.
“D-did I… mishear?”
To clear the quest, no holds barred.
…Even if it means straight liquor.
“R-record! Gotta record this! Hura-nim, say it again—”
“Shh.”
I calmed her frantic phone-grab with a finger to her lips.
“Mmph?!”
She froze solid.
I whispered in her icy-stiff ear.
“Tell the Tteokbokki Cult.”
“Mmph…”
“There's an amazing restaurant in Harten.”