Chapter 45
Chapter 45
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: School Lunch (2)
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As expected from high schoolers, they immediately shared their new experience.
Smartphone camera shutters clicked all over the cafeteria.
Their Instagram feeds and TikTok videos started filling up in real time with photos and clips of "school lunch"—the first they'd ever seen with such visuals.
#BerkeleyHighLunch #KoreanFood
#SchoolLunchUpgrade #FinallyRealFood
The posts, paired with those hashtags, racked up likes and spread like wildfire.
Vibrant colors and generous portions.
Just looking at the pictures was enough to make mouths water and spark envy from kids at other schools.
A sudden wave of "school lunch bragging" from Berkeley High students.
For kids at other schools, it sparked envy—and complaints about their own lunches.
Comment sections filled with pics of their own (pitiful?) lunches, posted competitively.
"We get garbage like this..."
"That looks like heaven."
"Our school needs to step up!"
The internet erupted in a school lunch debate.
And at the center, unintentionally, was Ji-hoon.
The three-day lunch service was creating massive ripples in unexpected ways.
The fact that American school lunches were subpar wasn't news.
It was a chronic issue everyone knew all too well.
Complaints never stopped about kids eating unhealthy, sometimes awful food at school.
Politicians trotted out "lunch reform" promises every election season.
Healthier, tastier, fresher lunches—that was catnip for parent voters.
But those promises rarely panned out.
Budget issues always got in the way.
Fixing the system required massive funding, which was perpetually deprioritized.
There were always more "urgent" matters than kids' health.
Thus, America's lousy school lunch problem lingered unsolved for decades.
No wonder self-deprecating memes about it popped up in the 2000s.
The most famous? Ketchup and french fries counting as "vegetables."
It satirized lax nutrition rules where ketchup and fries tallied toward veggie intake.
"Stuff your face with fries and ketchup in the cafeteria, teacher comes by: 'Good job eating your veggies!'"
Drips like that circulated openly.
The internet overflowed for years with comparisons: tasty, healthy lunches from Korea, Japan, France vs. America's sad trays—pure envy.
Today's parents, raised on that slop, didn't want the same for their kids.
And teens? They get a kick out of flexing.
"I've got it, you don't? Hehe."
That smug superiority trip.
Berkeley High kids were living it right now.
They started daily Instagram posts bragging about lunch.
In response to such brazen flexing, kids still chowing soggy burgers and fries fired back middle-finger emojis in rage.
And that reaction? Pure gold.
Berkeley High kids doubled down, teasing harder.
The temporary lunch upgrade had snowballed into a full-on "lunch flex" frenzy.
"Hey, why are they acting like that?"
I said to Dong-hyun, busy serving next to me.
"No idea? Why snap pics instead of eating?"
Today being the last day had the kids bummed out.
Some even asked if we could keep doing it.
Honestly, kinda touched.
Meant it suited their tastes perfectly.
Yawn.
Just lunch left, then we're done.
Oof, body aches.
Cooking mass quantities after so long was tough.
But heading home early to sweet time with Lily? Priceless.
More time together rocks.
"Last day, so we prepped a lunch special. Wonder how much they'll love it."
"Yeah."
Dong-hyun replied.
"Kids finally tasted real Korean food. Babsang's gonna be swamped now, right?"
They'd etched "Korean food = healthy and delicious" in their brains.
Curious how business would boom post-lunch service.
Today's special?
Braised young chicken simmered in secret soy sauce.
Crispy scallion pancakes on a huge griddle.
Steaming fish cake soup.
Fermented kimchi and fluffy white rice.
Dessert: house-made sweet rice punch.
The braised chicken? Whole bird per serving—that was the hook.
Why?
Kids joked: "No clue what meat's even in our usual burger patties!"
Spot on.
Gave these processed mystery-meat kids the joy of picking real bone-in meat.
The rice punch? Prepped days ago, chilled as our ace dessert.
Mmm, smells killer.
Watching chickens braise in soy glaze in the giant pot—couldn't help swallowing.
One hour to lunch?
Cafeteria was huge; all students could eat at once.
Normally, picky eaters hit nearby spots, but since I started, almost everyone stayed.
Then, the lunch bell rang.
Morning class kids poured in cheering.
Alright, let's nail the finale.
I gloved up, stood at the serving line.
Today's lunch menu was straight shock value.
Kids at the line gawked at trays loaded with food.
Not a leg—a whole small chicken, intact.
Beside it: big slab of golden pancake, steaming fish cake soup.
Dessert station: frosty sweet rice punch.
"......Whoa, last day party?"
Murmurs erupted everywhere.
Unbelieving, they grabbed trays and headed to seats.
Like scripted, phones out before forks.
Click! Click!
"Yo, get the angle right!"
"What filter? Gotta look crisp to seem tasty, right?"
"Stories to troll other schools!"
Fingers flew.
This finale screamed flex material.
Only after pics did they tentatively taste.
"Insane... This chicken? So tender! Spicy-sweet-salty perfection!"
"This pancake thing! Has seafood inside! Epic!"
"Soup's unreal..."
Cafeteria filled with gasps and happy sighs.
Past two days were great, but today? Next level, they agreed.
But joy faded.
Hit them: last day.
"Ah... It's really the end today..."
One kid muttered sadly.
"Yeah... Thinking burgers tomorrow already makes me wanna hurl."
"Wish it was like this every day."
"Can't our lunch vendor just stay?"
"For real... Such a shame."
The rowdy hall grew wistful.
They savored every bite, drop,
wrapping up the brief three-day lunch dream.
"Why are the kids eating so slow?"
The vast cafeteria was packed.
Last day vibes—savoring every bite, chatting slow.
Tables weren't clearing like usual.
In the bustle,
some came back sheepishly for seconds.
I sent 'em away: come later.
No point starving the line.
Share leftovers after.
"Looks like everyone's served?"
Dong-hyun asked.
"More food left?"
"Yeah. No chicken, but soup, rice, batter scraps."
"If kids want more, grill 'em up."
Dong-hyun eyed dumping extras too, last day.
"Right. Batter's trash anyway—grill it all. Auntie, I'll help him, watch the line?"
"Go ahead~"
Aunties nodded, service winding down.
"Together, we'll fry fast."
Me and Dong-hyun hit the kitchen, pouring batter on the griddle.
"30-40 more servings easy."
"Yeah. Hungry stragglers incoming."
Flashbacks to childhood cafeteria runs.
Prime hunger age, right?
American kids same.
"All fried?"
"Yup. I'll slice—grab trays."
"Got it~"
Right then.
—Bang! Bang!
A dull, sharp sound echoed from the cafeteria.
Followed by kids' piercing screams.
Gunshots.
Yeah, definitely gunshots.
But... at school?
Why?
Dong-hyun and I locked serious eyes.