I'm Not a Bad Guy, Why's the Alarm Ringing??

I'm not a bad person—why's the alarm going off?? No Min-sik, a 23-year-old army vet and ordinary guy. He'd poured half his earnings from grueling jobs like construction gigs, day labor, and logistics centers into his passion for food, calling himself a gourmet.

A regular viewer of cooking shows, he'd sighed when his foreman led the crew into Bulpae Pochaa. He'd seen this place's jeyuk bokkeum set meal on Shin Do-young's Health Restaurant Korea, and the dried-out, shriveled meat had killed his appetite just looking at it. The fridge meat peeking out was yellowish too, and the three family members working there clearly lacked the basics.

Especially that kitchen helper, Lee Ha-neul or whatever... she was on another level.

Still, as the crew's newbie, he had no choice but to tag along. Even when they offered free new menu items, he hadn't held out much hope.

"Enjoy your meal."

"Eawt well, sirs."

The part-timer was cute, but with her flawless white skin and innocent eyes, she didn't strike him as someone rigorously trained in cooking. Word was, the best chefs were usually total assholes anyway...

At least the presentation passed muster.

Good enough for Insta. Did they use food coloring or something??

Click!!

Min-sik hit the shutter without thinking.

When the foreman took a bite and called for soju, he was still skeptical. Was it genuinely tasty enough to pair with booze, or were they just washing down the blandness?

Better try the original jeyuk set first.

He'd survived x-rays before; he was curious about this 20-year-old recipe the owner had developed with her late husband.

"Urk."

It felt like chewing a rag, with a rancid whiff to boot. They'd scorched the cheap meat to hide its flaws, but it didn't fool a sensitive gourmet like Min-sik. The sauce was mediocre and didn't even penetrate the meat, plus there was a burnt chili powder bitterness. No need to taste more—this was old-school jeyuk from a bygone era, the kind crusty old-timers grilled extra well-done to kill parasites before chasing it with soju. It wasn't even faithfully reproduced.

At home, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he'd have spat it out, but with the owner watching, that would've been rude. He forced it down.

With expectations in the gutter, he lifted the new jeyuk close—a honeyed aroma wafted up.

What spice did they use?

One bite, and it was ascension from hell to heaven. After scraping bottom with rag-like jeyuk, it yanked him sky-high like a penny stock pumped by a master trader. Crispy outside, juicy inside; every chew unleashed a fiery symphony of char and umami.

Like seasoned chicken that doesn't fade even after chewing... Made with the same meat??

Both were dry-style jeyuk from similar pork, but the new one was decades ahead. Cooking had no single "right" answer, but this was the perfect upgrade over the original.

Scoop a quarter portion onto an elegant plate instead of this massive one, spin a yarn like "inspired by seasoned chicken," and it'd fit right into a Korean fine-dining course—if you marketed it right.

The crew seemed to agree; the new dish was nearly cleaned out, while half the owner's 20-year legacy sat untouched.

"Ahem. Not bad as soju snacks—brings back memories."

Maybe pitying the owner's wistful gaze from afar, one dad-type tossed back a shot and dug in.

"These two use different meats, right??"

"No, my son gets it from his buddy selling at Ma-jang Market."

Oh, that chubby guy...

With the ice broken, the owner finally dropped the question.

"So, which one's better?"

"Uh... our maknae's a real gourmet!!"

"Does food review YouTube too. 920 subs."

The sly foreman punted the hot potato to Min-sik.

"The new one's got that bold punch, so it hooks younger folks or us hard laborers. But yours has a subtle charm—don't be too bummed."

Inside, he was cursing, but no need to make enemies; he softened it.

The owner forced a smile, but her pout was obvious.

Was that too harsh? Maybe pivot to blaming the ingredients...

"But who came up with this new one?? It's so refined—did Seong Chan-ho Chef drop by with a recipe??"

Rumor had it on cooking forums that the next Health Restaurant episode was filming locally.

"You think?"

"They've been hitting provinces; Seoul's due."

"Then that part-timer's gotta be a celeb, right??"

This place from months back might get a quick sequel spot.

"Not fwom Seong Chan-ho! Dye made it!!!"

Screeeech!

The part-timer girl, rummaging the fridge, shot Min-sik a glare. She slammed the door to vent her "I'm pissed!!!" but it made a pathetic thud.

Tears welled in her eyes as she emerged (from onions, probably).

"Huh?"

"Big trouble."

"Emergency!"

"Don't make the kid cry, Min-sik."

"Ahh..."

Her huddled shoulders screamed "pat me," stirring protective instincts. A far cry from her serious cooking vibe earlier.

"Sorry... I'm so sorry!! It was so pro-level, I figured a celebrity chef did it!!"

Bowing from her seat, their eye levels still matched—huge height gap.

"...It's okay."

She crossed her arms in stern mode, flicked him a glance, and headed to the coffee machine.

"Ugh... ouch."

Meanwhile, the owner sampled the crimson jeyuk in the kitchen and staggered.

"How with the same stuff...?"

Even a veteran cook like her would be shocked.

Of course, the new jeyuk had limits too.

Bet it'd rock with better meat...

Plus, heavy oil made it greasy.

"Maknae, grab more kimchi!"

"Yes!!!"

"Whoa, this cheonggukjang's refreshingly tasty."

But the sides covered the flaws.

"Kimchi doesn't taste store-bought. Where's it from, ma'am??"

"I made it."

"Wow, pro skills~"

"Really?"

"More cheonggukjang here!!"

"Who makes the cheonggukjang?"

"I've done it forever. Hohoho!!!"

The owner's glum face lit up.

"Three more servings of that red stuff, please."

Muscle-sore Lee Ha-neul's jeyuk got a refill order.

"It's in toastin' pwocess, so othews might have to wait ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠too—no can do."

"We'll add 5k to the set price."

Haru grinned at the hairy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dads eyeing her desperately like Elmu.

"Owdah weceived~"

Set was 10k; 15k now—50% profit.

Nearly 200k sales from six customers.

"Thanks for the meal."

"Taking your card! Might bring a big group tomorrow— you'll have the red jeyuk ready, right??"

Moms and dads eyed Ha-neul again.

Tempting group order, but...

"Still devewopin'—no can do."

"What?"

"Not compwete yet."

"If that's unfinished, other shops should shut down."

"Hey! There's deep meaning here."

"Maknae!! Swing by daily if you're free—check progress!"

"Yessir."

"Sell lots~"

Chaos cleared; just two left.

"Your jeyuk was killer, Ha-neul. How much hell did you endure in that psychiatric ward's time chamber...?"

Park Sun-ja, miffed when customers only praised Ha-neul's dish, perked up at side compliments.

"Being there made me crave your soup and kimchi... so I whipped up jeyuk to match."

Stubborn as ever, but admitting this much was progress for a middle-aged woman.

"Youngsters love it—add it permanent, and crowds'll come."

True, but two similar dishes couldn't coexist. For the shop to thrive, Sun-ja's had to go.

Regressor Haru had a cheat key to break her stubbornness... but too soon; shock not settled.

"Yawn~!"

Still before dinner, yet sleepy.

"Tired? Head home with Elmu?"

Failing diner wouldn't busy up evenings.

"Nah. Gotta hit the community center for a health cert with this body."

"Want company??"

"Bro and sis-in-law gone... shop okay closing??"

"Family first. Need clothes too, right??"

"Urgh..."

Right— she'd bolted in childhood red plaid long johns and shorts. Doomsday fashion.

Temporary close; hit local big mall.

Her size meant kids' section browsing.

"Whoa, check that girl."

"How's she pulling off those rags?"

"Drama shoot??"

"Dirt-poor family trope, huh."

Middle-aged clerk welcomed the duo.

"Aww, what a pretty granddaughter. Jealous~ How old?"

"Ughhh..."

Haru's head throbbed already.

"Shy one, huh~ Wanna see our hot sellers? This was 130k, half-off at 70k..."

Frilly, ruffled disaster kidswear.

"Slightly bigger size'd fit~"

"No fwilly stuff!!"

That floaty frill nightmare? No way...

Mom and daughter headed home.

"Oh right, left Elmu in the rooftop shed!!!"

Smart now, adult phase, obedient—but leave too long, who knows.

Heading back, Elmu teleported into Haru's arms.

"Momma cawwing? Peep???"

"Oh my, spooky."

"Teleport too??"

"Can't teww momma nooo!!!! Hungwy!!!!!!"

Pondering meals, Sun-ja eyed the parrot.

"Ha-neul, can Mom feed it??"

"Sure, whatever. But it's stronger than normal parrots—no weird stuff!"

"Wanna eat what ang-momma makes!!"

"No tantrums. Hold till tomorrow, Elmu."

Left Elmu playing with Sun-ja in the living room; Haru retreated to her room.

Shopping bags held Ha-neul-sized clothes. Yui AI helped craft a "caught in tower collapse" alibi.

"When to go—minimize grilling??"

"Huh?"

"Right."

Lee Ha-neul case: awaken as chef, take over Cooking Gallery admin.

"But center'll be swarmed then."

"What?"

"Yeah, delaying might draw spotlight. Early bird it is."

Prep done—except one thing.

"What name to pick??"?"

Yui showed options; none clicked.

"Name... name..."

Knock knock!

"Ha-neul, apple!"

"Coming."

"Got your story straight for tomorrow??"

"Yup. But name's tricky."

"...When you were born, Dad said name a girl Ha-ru."

"That's good?? Love it."

"Okay. But you... nah."

"Huh?? What?"

"Nothing! Your birth dream popped up..."

Bzzz!!

Sun-ja's phone: call from Ha-seong.

"Huh? You're out front?? Hee-yeon?? Fight?? Got it."

Click!

"Ha-seong's griping about sudden close. Gotta go. You, Ha-neul... er, Ha-ru??"

Nothing pressing, Elmu needed Slippery Pork Stir-fry; Haru headed to shop.

Ha-seong suspicious like Mom; spill childhood porn folder name and codes, suspicion gone.

Introduced Elmu; first meet, he pets head—pecked crown.

"Damn, this slaps. You made it??"

Ha-seong rapid-fired awe at lidded kitchen jeyuk.

"Our Ha-neul... I mean Ha-ru's set!! Shoulda taken that tower collapse myself??"

"Cut the crap. Girl body means bye to sis-in-law. Why'd you fight?"

"...Later."

Bro served; Haru tested new menu, adapted to girl body.

Next day.

"Doom doom..."

"Eh?? Two jobs??"?"

Solas experience: cleaner single job topped out higher than hybrids.

Whatever, sticking to cooking anyway.

Job secondary; trait key.

Planned auto-farm and chill—annoying. Attention spots...

This look + skills, fake Seong Chan-ho fan = point flood.

Don't tangle deep—slow fadeout. Family first; table it.

Awakening unlocked Cooking Gallery to Earth awakeners.

Admin but blocked; center first.

"Long wait anyway—lurk there..."

First, fed homebound Elmu yesterday's shop Slippery Pork Stir-fry.

"Mowe mowe momma!!!!"

Bowl-headed, springy headbang.

"Fire chicken or this—which better??"

Toughie; flapped ceiling circles.

"Both yumm peep!!!!"

"That good? But... Mom might not come home."

"Huh???"

"Obey ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠grandma/uncle, level in tower, rescue me??"

"Undewstood, Mothew."

Wing-waved farewell as Haru left.

Phoned nearest Awakener Center.

"Whoaaa..."

No outdoor line, but inside packed.

Entry had anti-theft gate vibe.

Nothing to steal—why gates?

No issue passing—

Shrieeeek!!!

'Teleport??'

Blonde mixed-race bombshell in headband sunnies appeared. Hawk eyes froze him.

"Dye not a bad pershon!!!"

***

Post-lunch lull at Bulpae Pochaa; Ha-seong and Sun-ja sat across.

Just heard Lee Ha-ru awakened.

"Ha-ru okay...?"

"Searched—tons awakened, not crowded. Chef/Blacksmith/Alchemist all support—no frontline."

"Not worried about that."

"Kidnapped? Stream 'son's girl now gone'."

Ha-ru's Bulpae Pochaa infamous badly.

"Or parrot has nail-worth combat..."

"No. Yesterday, seemed talking to someone. Possessed?"

"Dunno. Hated shop work... now zealous—weird. Wait!!"

"What?"

"Hate to say, but... pretty girl now, eyeing cooking stream?? Mukbang/ASMRTube?"

"Solo talk yesterday..."

"Practice."

"...Health Restaurant crew Kakao'd; skipped."

"Backfired then."

"Now could promo Ha-ru's face??"

"Ask when back."

Sun-ja fiddled Health Restaurant Writer in contacts.