Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: It Tasted Pink! (5)
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- What are you curious about?
"You're just gonna tell me?"
Honestly, I thought you'd chew me out at first.
The boss did look pretty intimidating, and his speech was so curt.
That was the image I had.
But it seems like he's willing to share freely.
- What's so secret I couldn't tell you?
"Without any compensation?"
- Compensation? Pfft, you think I'd expect payment for sharing something amazing? If you asked for the secret sauce recipe in our food, sure, I'd charge for that.
"Oh..."
- But rUnnieng a restaurant? It's just everyday life stuff, isn't it? Nothing much to hide or reveal—it's all out in the open.
Hearing it explained that way, it did make sense.
The biggest thing that keeps a place afloat is the 'taste' of the food, after all.
Yoon-seule tapped the back of her spoon against the table, looking bored of waiting.
"Oppa, ish it done yet?"
"Hang on, let me taste it first. Just wait."
It takes a while for the potatoes and broth to cook through, so I scoop some up and blow on it—huff huff. From the moment it hit the flame, that signature salty-spicy scent of jjapaguri wafts up.
It's not unpleasant at all. It gets the saliva flowing.
Slurp—
The steam is boiling hot, so it singes my lips a bit as I taste the broth, then I carefully push a potato toward my molars.
The heat surges, but I blow—huff huff—and chew it down well.
It's hot, but eating it like this has its own charm.
"Yoon-seul-ah, it's done. Let me serve it up—pass me your side plate."
"Okay!"
As I ladle it generously onto my little sister's plate first, the boss chimes in.
- Practically your daughter, huh?
I brush off the comment like background noise and keep the conversation going.
"You're really good at cooking, as expected."
- You don't last 30 years in one spot just by luck.
"What, so you have some pride in it after all."
- Think I'd stick around dealing with punks like you if I didn't?
"Ah, no, sorry. Actually, I'm rUnnieng a restaurant too. Just hit the one-week mark."
- Hm.
"Right now, I've narrowed it down to just two menu items, but I'm wondering if I should change that up."
- Why's that?
"Well... the customers want more variety."
- And you've got customers like that after just a week?
"Ah... yeah, somehow."
Explaining the full story would be tricky.
To make full use of Yoon-seul's abilities, I need to feed her the restaurant food, but as her Oppa, I don't want to keep giving her the same old menu.
That's why I'm thinking of shaking things up.
And sure enough, some customers had expressed regret over the limited options.
- Hmm... Still, sounds like you know your way around the kitchen.
"I wouldn't say that myself..."
- Nah, you can tell just from that. A restaurant a week in doesn't fuss over menus. They worry about drawing crowds first.
"Now that you mention it, yeah."
- Exactly. So even after just a week, you're already confident enough that regulars will keep coming back. That's why you can agonize over menu changes.
As expected from someone with decades in the business—sharp insight.
"I think you're right, boss."
- Asking about it here means you're not set on a fixed menu. You're thinking of rotating it periodically?
"Yes, exactly."
The boss hears that and lets out a gravelly chuckle.
His aged throat mixes in a scraping metallic rasp.
Yoon-seul, spooning up jjapaguri and blowing on it, glances over at the sound.
- What a big deal. For that? No special tricks needed. Just build your menu around dishes you're confident in and swap them out little by little.
"Yeah, that makes sense. But the key is how to keep the regulars coming while changing the menu."
On the surface, it sounds simple.
How nice would it be if the boss could swap menus on a whim every day?
But alleyway restaurant life isn't that easy.
People come to a place expecting a certain taste profile.
Especially regulars—they're hooked on that specific flavor and keep returning.
If the menu changes daily, even those loyal customers would get thrown off.
Yet this place avoids that pitfall and survives in the alley. In a way, it's overcome the contradiction.
- Does changing the menu mean the taste changes?
"Usually... yeah."
- Right. Usually it does. Or rather, different dishes shouldn't taste the same—that defies logic.
The boss pauses for a moment.
Seemed like he was organizing his thoughts.
He gently strokes Yoon-seul's head as she quietly digs into her jjapaguri.
- Didn't you say it yourself? Customers want variety.
"Yes. But that feels a bit contradictory."
- Nah, it's not a contradiction. It's just phrasing. It's a great sign.
"A great sign?"
- It means they're responding well to your touch. This place is the same case.
Touch.
Abstract, but I had a sense of what it meant.
The pre-meal soup and this jjapaguri.
Totally different flavors, yet an oddly similar vibe.
- Simply put, people saying that just means your food's good.
"Oh... I see."
- If you can give food character while keeping a consistent feel, it'll give regulars a reason to come back even with menu changes.
Hearing that, I scoop up a big mouthful of jjapaguri onto my side plate
and down the whole bowl—slurp.
The starchy potato-thickened broth presses down my throat and floods into my stomach.
A wave of relief washes over me.
If I'd come here hammered on soju, I might've become a regular on the spot.
"Eating this jjapaguri, I get what 'touch' means now."
- Hmph, cheeky again. Curiosity satisfied?
"Yes! Thanks to you, I know what to do now. Thank you, boss."
- You'll do fine.
"Huh...?"
- Anyone who can tell how much care goes into someone else's food pours ten times that into their own. Customers notice that first and come back.
With that, the boss heads back to the kitchen.
Soon after, customers around his age—looking like regulars—file in.
- What's on the menu today?
- I wrote it outside.
- Didn't check. Tell me.
- Jjapaguri.
- Then three bottles of soju.
- Damn it, what time do you think it is?
They banter with the boss just like that.
Glad we got here early. After that, I focused on the meal.
Yoon-seul polished off a full bowl of rice, snot dripping from her nose.
"Was it spicy, Yoon-seul?"
"Yoon-seul-i... huff huff, good at shpicthy stuff."
"Okay, come here then. I'll wipe your nose."
"Okay..."
I wipe her nose with some tissue, and just then the boss passes by.
- No matter how I look, that's your daughter.
He drops another comment.
**
We finished dinner and headed home.
I learned a ton from the boss today, so paying 20,000 won without taking change felt right—at least as thanks.
He scolded me for not taking the change, so I scooped up Yoon-seul under one arm and bolted.
From behind, the boss yelled,
- I'll set it aside here—grab it next time!!
Just put it in your wallet already.
Starting tomorrow at work, I'll research our restaurant's own 'touch' like he advised.
"Oppa, Yoon-seul-i's tired..."
"Still gotta wash up and sleep, right?"
"Before that, gotta recharge lying on Oppa."
She lies down, using my lap as a pillow where I'm sitting cross-legged on the bed.
She's so light, I barely feel the weight.
"Are you a smartphone or something? What recharge?"
"Battery's all gone."
"Then you need to charge up. But no falling asleep."
"Nuu..."
I turn on the TV.
Got it for free as a raffle prize by chance.
It's been super useful since Yoon-seul came home.
When I was alone, I'd just use my phone instead.
The news channel from when I checked the weather this morning flickers on. I watched it briefly, shut it off, and headed out, so it stayed the same.
The screen shows the nine o'clock news headlines scrolling.
One catches my eye amid the ticker.
[Seokchon Lake Cherry Blossom Tasters?]
"Ugh..."
"Oh! The place we went to."
A groan escapes me.
Cherry blossom tasters? Middling sense of humor.
But with people chomping on cherry blossom petals, it might look that way.
"Some folks were filming videos on their phones. Guess they sent it to the news."
Sure, one or two people? Whatever. But tons of passersby at Seokchon Lake all doing the exact same thing? Pretty bizarre phenomenon.
A report titled [Seokchon Lake Cherry Blossom Tasters] plays.
Submitted footage rolls, featuring the familiar silhouettes of a brother-sister duo. Like the Western restaurant boss said, we do look like father and daughter.
"Oppa and Yoon-seul-i are on!!"
Yoon-seul excitedly dashes right up to the TV.
Then points at us on screen with her finger.
In the video, Yoon-seul beams innocently by my legs, gazing at the petal-munchers.
After the clip, they play an interview clip with some expert panelist.
[Reporter: Professor Cheon Man-ho of S University's Food and Nutrition Department in Seoul analyzes this as no mere coincidence. He points to modern workers' overwork-induced depression as the cause.]
[Professor Cheon Man-ho: It's something I've argued for years. Cherry blossom leaves contain trace antidepressants—not fully identified yet.
I'm thinking that's linked to what happened at Seokchon Lake.]
[.....]
Then a social psychologist comes on, explaining in a profound-sounding way how unstable mental states make people more prone to losing reason and getting swept into group behavior—obvious stuff.
This news channel seems dead set on tying the Seokchon Lake incident to modern stress from overwork.
"It's not that at all..."
I just want to go tell them my little sister made everyone eat a single leaf.
As the experts drone on, Yoon-seul loses interest and buries her face in my lap again.
"Yoon-seul, how much charge now?"
"3 percent."
"Good enough. Wash up and it'll be perfect for bed."
"Nuuu..."
Her drawn-out whine shows she's beat.
"Wanna wash up quick with Oppa and hit the hay? Gotta open the shop tomorrow."
"Yeah!"
At the restaurant mention, she springs up, strips off her clothes, and bolts to the bathroom.
I gather them up, set them by the door, and follow belatedly.
After showering, Yoon-seul flops onto the bed without drying her hair and falls asleep, breathing softly.
"One day without drying won't hurt."
I stroke my sleeping sister's hair.
Damp, but soft.
I check my phone gallery. Tons of lake pics, plenty of cute shots of Yoon-seul.
"But for some reason, this one's my favorite..."
The photo on screen: a selfie with Yoon-seul.
Her face smeared with chocolate, grinning ear-to-ear with a triumphant V-sign. So bold.
"Set."
I make it my wallpaper.
Then I pull the blanket up to my neck and drift off. Next morning, Yoon-seul sees it and grumbles.
"Ugh... Yoon-seul-i looks weird in that pic."
"Just for a while."
"Till when?"
"Till you can count to seven thousand on your fingers."
She spent ages after that folding her fingers whenever she had time, counting.
As far as I know, the max kept rising each time, but she never broke 1,000 and eventually gave up.