Ideal Type World Cup
Before we kicked things off, I laid down the ground rules.
“Just so we’re clear, this is one hundred percent based on my standards. You guys might look at some of these picks and go ‘huh?’”
I figured saying that up front would cut down on the whining, at least a little.
Or wait.
Maybe it was better if people did start talking.
Wasn’t the whole point of running a World Cup to pit the viewers against each other and sit back to watch the fireworks?
No? Fine, whatever. Let’s just go with that.
The moment the World Cup started, the first matchup that popped up was yokan versus spicy chicken ramen.
A result you could see coming from a mile away.
Just as expected, the chat was flowing exactly the way I thought it would.
Looking at the messages, ramen was clearly the correct pick in their eyes.
Couldn’t really blame them—I wondered if kids these days had even tried yokan.
But I’d already said we were going by my standards, so viewer consensus could go take a hike.
I didn’t even hesitate. I picked the yokan.
Spicy chicken ramen. Honestly, take away the heat and isn’t it just average?
It was absolutely not because I can’t handle spice that I chose the yokan.
“Guys, you don’t even need to go for the expensive yokan. I know ramen tastes good, but at the end of the day you’re just comparing instant noodles against other instant noodles.”
I pulled up a search for high-end Japanese yokan and put it on screen, then slapped a photo of Korean yokan that cost less than a thousand won right next to it.
“But the Korean yokan that doesn’t even cost a thousand won goes toe-to-toe with the Japanese stuff that costs tens of thousands of won, you know?”
Yokan is re.al.ly.fu.ck.ing.well.made.
“Someone said earlier that the expensive ones taste different. But when you actually go to Japan and try the pricey stuff, the words ‘eh, is that all?’ just come out automatically.”
I hovered the mouse pointer over the Korean yokan and spun it around in little circles.
“That’s all because our country’s yokan is so goddamn, goddamn, goddamn well-made that the comparison falls apart. Okay?”
Another example: chestnut-flavored ice cream versus the French dessert Mont Blanc.
Take one bite of Mont Blanc and your first thought is “expensive chestnut ice cream,” and that says everything.
And since these are my standards, this is correct. So I won’t be taking any rebuttals.
Next up: chicken breast versus chicken thigh.
How does a matchup like this even appear? Still, this one was easy.
I clicked breast without a single second of hesitation.
“I’ve said this before, right? Chicken breast only turns out dry and chalky if you just throw it straight onto a fire.
Well-cooked chicken breast versus well-cooked chicken thigh? Breast wins, no contest. No rebuttals accepted. If you rebut, I’m right anyway. Good luck.”
Somehow, without me even noticing, a boyfriend (glasses-pusher) had appeared. What is this. I don’t need it.
“I have zero intention of dating any of you. And this is under the ‘well-cooked’ standard. When you order fried chicken, it’s the thighs—who the hell eats the breast?”
Yeah, keep yapping. This is my room and I built this world.
Leaving the flaming chat behind, I checked the next round’s menu and saw steamed buns versus tteokbokki.
Oh, isn’t this a pretty even matchup?
With that thought I glanced at chat.
Surprisingly, steamed buns seemed to have a slight edge in preference.
Digging through old memories, even back in school the girls liked tteokbokki more than the guys did.
Let me correct that. “Liked” doesn’t cut it—they went absolutely feral for it.
But the guys ate it just fine too.
At first it was all “why do I have to eat this,” but after I fed them a few times they started buying it among themselves without any prompting.
They just don’t show it, but deep down everyone likes tteokbokki.
Bunch of dishonest little brats.
“Haha.”
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.
Yep. Number two.
“It’s not because I’m a girl—I’m picking tteokbokki because of a sad memory.”
An extremely, extremely sad memory. The kind that would make anyone who heard it unable to hold back tears. Just imagining it, I could already feel my eyes welling up.
“I think it was high school. One winter day I bought a vegetable steamed bun from the convenience store. On that freezing day I was huffing and puffing on both my hands and the bun, took a bite—and it was nothing but bread. So I thought, okay, that can happen, and took another bite, but oh no! Another disaster of pure bread.”
“I got all the way to the fourth bite and still no filling, you know? If the guy who made it had been standing in front of me, it would’ve been an instant steamed-bun slap to the face.”
Saying it out loud, it didn’t actually sound that sad. Close one.
Anyway, that was the story. Let’s move on.
Seafood bibim sauce versus school cafeteria curry.
“Been a while since I’ve seen haebimso. It was tastier than I expected.”
Curry, in my head, had an absolutely massive gap between its low and high points.
Like the difference between our team’s top laner who was 0/8/0 when we reunited under the Shabondy system twenty minutes later, versus the enemy top who was 10/0/0.
Still, we won the game. Top gap, top carry.
The former was a bit fishy, but mixed into rice it went down pretty well.
What, not going to unfurl the hooks?
Haebimso…? Ah. Slip of the tongue. In moments like this, don’t panic—just pull out the invincible internet shield.
“People kept talking about it so much I got curious and bought some to try.”
For real? I searched it… and it was true. So that was the taste of military supply corruption.
No wonder it was mid.
“Who said they ate it recently? I meant I tried it back when it was famous.”
And if I get caught, what exactly are you going to do besides hissing and raiding some gallery?
I dodged the friends who were trying to scope me out and kept the stream moving.
Next: mint chocolate versus Hawaiian.
This one’s actually easy. Let’s just move on…
Why though. Earlier I was deliberately poking them a little, but this time isn’t my choice just correct?
Anyone who seriously eats papaya needs to get their tongue checked for whatever damage it’s taken.
Taking a fruit that’s meant to be eaten cold and eating it hot—what the hell are they thinking?
Combine two perfectly normal ingredients and ta-da, garbage appears.
This is true miracle alchemy. Wrong answer, alchemist!
You guys can handle the consideration-euthanasia among yourselves later.
Now it was mint chocolate’s turn.
A lot of people trash it as toothpaste-flavored, but that’s completely untrue.
Toothpaste is mint-flavored.
And surprisingly often, people who’ve never even tried mint chocolate just see everyone else throwing rocks and go “is this a fight? I gotta jump in too,” tossing stones like that one card from some rock-throwing game.
What? The same applies to the other side? Shut up.
Looking at it that way, I don’t particularly like mint chocolate, but at least mint chocolate isn’t garbage, right?
I’d thought this would be a free-win stream, but just like always the World Cup ended in total chaos.
Someone teased that I’d added another line to the controversy list today, but I, Kim Ji-an, can confidently say there is no one under the heavens cleaner than me.
“Right?”
If you keep twisting what people say in weird ways, other people get the wrong idea, you know?
A brief language correction will now take place~
Click click click
“Alright, we worked hard on today’s stream, right?”
When did I ever open a flame World Cup. You guys just have low flash points. I’m the one who’s wronged here. So wronged.
Yeah yeah. Same old forced hate as usual.
“Right. There was something I needed to say about that too.”
One moment.
Saying that, I first pulled up the five nicknames I’d sorted out last time.
“These are the final five from the last suicide squad. I’m definitely giving these people something I made.”
I have to take care of these people.
They were grateful customers who didn’t run from the shop and came looking for me all the way to the end. Regulars need to be treated well.
What? Didn’t I chase them out? You wanna die?
“Everyone calm down. And I’m going to pick five more people. Right now I’ve got about fifty viewers in the room, so excluding those five and picking five more is pretty generous, don’t you think? Do you agree?”
We’ll carefully escort our manager home, and he won’t be going far.
“Anyway, the drawing will be done on the café.”
At first I thought about just picking randomly, but then another idea hit me.
With that thought, I opened the board I’d just created a moment ago.
“Can you see this?”
“Write down the reason you deserve to receive homemade cooking here. Then I’ll cut it off at the top five by recommendations and send them out.”
Viewers plotting among themselves to rig it so all fifty of them end up in first place.
Sigh. Rigging this, rigging that—like your teamwork is going to hold up that well.