Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: The Inevitable Trouble
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"Hoon. Did the meeting with the lawyer go well?"
The lunch rush was over, and things had quieted down.
I was slumped over a table in the corner, completely zoned out.
Lucas had slipped into the seat across from me and started talking.
"Haa... My head's a mess, Lucas. The world I believed in turned out to be a lie."
"Hahaha! What, did the lawyer say there's no hope?"
He must find my pathetic state amusing.
"Phew... It's not that. Just something nagging at me, making my head spin."
"I was shocked when I heard you'd gotten married once and then divorced."
Before the lawyer introduction, I'd given him a rough rundown of my situation, and he'd burst out laughing back then.
"Hahahaha! Do Koreans have no shame? Ah! Guns are illegal in Korea, right? That's why they're so rude. Cheating and then filing a lawsuit? If he were American, he'd be too scared of getting shot to try that! Hahahaha!"
That was it.
Come to think of it, real manners weren't taught in Cheonghak-dong or schools.
Guns were the ultimate teacher.
What if everyone lived with the thought that they might get shot?
It would probably create a beautiful society overflowing with consideration, where people always thought of others' feelings first.
Especially those idiots who strut around these days, relying on the law and their money—would they still act like that if they knew their life could end in a flash?
Aah... I could really go for a shotgun.
Anyway, Lucas chuckled at my wilted state and said,
"Hoon, I might not be able to come by for a while, so keep that in mind."
"Huh? Something come up?"
Aa... No way! I can't lose a regular customer!
"There's a family meeting in LA. Looks like I have to go."
Ah.
Gangs have regular gatherings too, huh.
"Got it? Take care and come back safe. Don't get shot, okay? If a fight breaks out, just watch and run."
"Huh? What, Hoon? You worried about me?"
"Who'll pay our staff's salaries if you're gone? You gotta live long."
Lucas chuckled at my joke.
"Don't worry. I've been shot three times and lived. Got three holes in me."
His words reminded me of a scene from a Korean movie I'd seen.
What a coincidence!
"Alright. Have a safe trip. How about another cup of sikhye?"
"No more sikhye. You still seeing that little miss from before?"
"Lily? Yeah, we meet up often. She's a friend I really click with. By the way, Lucas, don't you have a girlfriend? I don't think I've ever seen you with a woman."
"Huh? Didn't I tell you?"
"What?"
"I've got a wife and daughter."
"Huh?"
He's married?
"Haha. So you thought this body was single?"
I wanted to flick his smug forehead, but my physique wasn't up to it, so I held back.
No confidence I'd win.
Whoa... total plot twist.
"You should've brought her sometime. I could've treated you to a proper meal."
"Next time, we'll come together. My wife's never tried Korean food, so I was worried and didn't bring her."
"Really? Bring the family next time, and I'll prepare properly to show her real Korean flavors. Definitely bring her. How old's your daughter?"
"Our princess just turned five."
Seeing the smile spread across his face as he talked about his daughter, I figured fathers are all the same.
I didn't have kids yet, so I couldn't relate to that feeling.
I took a proper break during downtime, then powered through the dinner rush.
The reopened Babsang was a massive hit.
With more seats, even customers who hated waiting flooded in, and reviews on SNS brought an explosion of new patrons.
Peak hours were absolute chaos, with not a moment's peace.
During breaks, staff would collapse at tables with blank stares.
What can I say?
It felt like high-weight interval training—pouring all your energy into short bursts.
Of course, revenue had multiplied several times over.
And it was that much harder.
Aah... Still, earning money through sweat feels damn good.
Then a worry hit me.
At this rate, we'll burn through ingredients fast... Hope it's okay.
There were limits to the fermented sauces Father sent from Korea.
The two-year promise from when I first came to America.
I had to produce our own within that time.
I'd already imported top-grade beans, peppers, and large earthenware pots from Korea.
Planning to lease more land near the backyard farm for full-scale fermentation.
But that meant I couldn't be tied to the shop forever.
Gotta hire a floor manager soon.
From sourcing ingredients to the fermentation process, I had mountains of tasks requiring my direct involvement.
The core of our restaurant was the sauce flavor—I couldn't leave that to others.
Aah... Thinking about making meju already pisses me off.
I'd mapped out a rough plan in my head, but actually doing it felt daunting.
Damn... How much do I even need to make?
For a year's supply, it'd take weeks of nonstop fermenting.
Impossible alone, obviously.
Aah. Gotta ask the Korean association to help find workers.
Once properly made in bulk, it'd last months without worry.
I was sorting my tangled thoughts and pondering next steps.
"What's with the vibe?"
I'd stepped out briefly to pick up meat from our butcher supplier and returned to a tense kitchen atmosphere.
Amy's face was stiff, and the other aunties looked dissatisfied.
Amy especially seemed furious—she didn't even acknowledge me, lips pressed tight.
Aah... Please no drama at the shop.
To me, a peaceful day was the best.
Amy prepped radishes for broth in silence.
Her deltoids bulged more than usual, her knife work forceful.
One wrong move, and someone was done for.
Should play it safe.
But I couldn't ignore the toxic vibe in a workplace.
I subtly signaled one kitchen auntie and pulled her outside.
Asked for the full story.
It was a classic food industry issue.
I'd thought Amy fought with the kitchen staff, but it was hall vs. kitchen.
The perennial restaurant headache.
Clashing perspectives.
Hall staff spoke from their side, kitchen from theirs—parallel lines.
It started with an argument between Amy and a part-time hall worker.
Our system: Servers clear tables, dump leftovers in the bin at kitchen entrance.
Put empty dishes in the sink with hot soapy water inside.
Kitchen was busy too, so aunties washed in batches during downtime, loading the dishwasher.
Today, overwhelmed hall staff skipped dumping scraps properly, pouring straight into the sink.
Drain clogged, dishwashing halted.
It happened occasionally during rushes, but pent-up frustration exploded today.
Amy scolded the part-timer for breaking rules; the hall manager defended her, escalating things.
...Tricky.
Both sides made sense—no absolute right or wrong.
Picking sides rashly would fracture hall-kitchen relations.
But smoothing it over was the boss's job, right?
I sighed deeply and reentered.
Soon gathered kitchen and hall staff in the hall center.
Air was heavy.
Amy and hall manager avoided eye contact.
I scanned them calmly.
"Everyone had a tough day with the rush? I heard about the kitchen-hall issue earlier."
I paused, looking each in the eye.
"I have something important to say. Kitchen and hall aren't separate teams. We're one body at Babsang—like heart and limbs. Can't function without any part."
True fact.
No restaurant runs on one side alone.
"Kitchen times food perfectly over hot stoves; hall handles crowds, takes orders, serves, clears. Rush days like today? Total madness. Mistakes and misunderstandings happen."
I alternated glances at Amy and the part-timer.
"Today's clog? Not one person's fault—group rush issue. Hall, be more careful dumping scraps; kitchen, cut some slack for possible slip-ups."
Seemed minor, but fatigue made everyone sensitive.
"Understand and accommodate each other more. When issues arise, brainstorm prevention and better teamwork before blame. We're allies to conquer together, not enemies. I know everyone's giving their best. Let's be a true Babsang team that supports each other. Can we do that?"
Silence followed.
But stiff faces softened slightly.
I hoped my sincerity got through.
Then played my final card to shift the mood.
"And today, post-reopening, you all worked so hard. So, bonuses on your way out!"
Instant cheers: "Woo!!!!" "Boss is the best!!" "Love you!" Filled the shop.
Like the fight never happened, all smiles.
I grinned watching them.
Nothing beats "financial therapy."
After cheers and return to posts,
I pulled Amy aside.
Her face had relaxed but still a bit tense.
I teased with a smile.
"Pretty mad, Amy?"
She bowed her head.
"...Sorry, boss. Caused a scene for nothing."
I patted her shoulder.
"Nah, happens. Rushes make everyone edgy. I get it."
I caught my breath, turned serious.
"Amy. You're an opening member. You know I trust and rely on you, right?"
Her eyes flickered, then she looked up resolved.
"Sorry for worrying you, boss. I'll sort it with hall staff. Don't worry."
I nodded, relieved.