Chapter 23:The Name That Reached Even the Capital (3)
Chapter 23:The Name That Reached Even the Capital (3)
(23/225)
Aston, who had been washing dishes, recognized Oswald and hurried to step out of the food truck.
However, his father gestured that there was no need for him to come out and took a seat at the counter.
“I thought it would be quiet around this time, so I came—and I was right.”
“It really was busy.”
“I heard the rough details from my men. If it’s your bunsik, that result was inevitable. Still, I was worried my inept son might only add to your workload when things were that hectic.”
“Not at all. Thanks to your son, we’ve reached the point where adding ramen as a regular menu item poses no problems.”
“Is that so?”
“In fact, ramen makes up a significant portion of our sales here.”
“These people really know how to enjoy bunsik. More than anything, I’m delighted we managed to introduce ramen to the people of the capital as well—it feels like my own accomplishment. With that in mind, I’ll have a bowl.”
“Yes, of course.”
A moment later, Oswald picked up his chopsticks as he looked at the ramen Jinseo set before him.
Steam rose gently from the bowl. Beside it was a serving of cold rice, more than enough to satisfy any lingering hunger beyond the noodles alone. There was also pickled radish to refresh the palate, and a can of cola whose sharp carbonation added to its appeal.
Just looking at the combination of these four items was enough to draw a smile to his lips.
Slurp.
Oswald cooled the noodles with his breath as he drew them in, occasionally lifting the broth to his lips.
“Ahh… still as good as ever.”
In the blink of an eye, he finished the ramen, mixed the rice into the broth, and ate every last drop. Setting down the empty bowl, he let out a long breath.
“Excellent as always.”
At Oswald’s familiar praise, Jinseo smiled faintly and gestured toward Aston, who was cooking behind him.
“Today, your son made it, not me.”
“Oh? That boy did?”
For a brief moment, the corner of Oswald’s mouth lifted, but when his gaze met Aston’s, he lowered his head and cleared his throat.
“He’s been helping with the gimbap and the ramen.”
“Then I’ll have a roll of gimbap as well.”
“Aston! One more gimbap!”
The sound of chopping followed immediately.
Soon after, neatly sliced gimbap was placed in front of Oswald.
As he ate piece by piece, he casually swept his gaze over the sparsely occupied tables.
Then he spotted a familiar face and rose from his seat.
Slurp, slurp.
A man who looked to be in his fifties was vigorously slurping noodles, steam rising thickly from the strands. Even as sweat trickled down his forehead, he couldn’t stop eating.
When Oswald’s shadow fell over him, the man finally looked up.
“You are…?”
“It’s been a while, Duke Layton.”
“Oswald? Oswald, is that you? It really has been a long time!”
The means called Duke Layton looked up at Oswald and greeted him warmly.
The elderly man who appeared to be his butler, seated across from him, tried to stand in a hurry, but Oswald waved him off.
“I believe it’s been three years since we last met.”
“When did you arrive? To meet you in a place like this—how unexpected.”
“I stopped by the capital after a long time on business with Marquis Hasrak.”
“Ah, I heard talk of a formal match at the marquis’s house. So it was your family? I wish you the best.”
“Thank you. By the way, is this your first time trying the food from the food truck?”
When Oswald glanced around, he noticed more than just the ramen in front of the duke.
Traces of tteokbokki’s vivid red sauce left on a plate. A half-finished can of cola. And beside them, empty ice-cream wrappers.
Considering that Duke Layton was known for having a small appetite, he had eaten quite a lot.
“I’ve tried everything already. The others I had my butler buy for me, but this ramen—he insisted it was something I had to come and eat in person. So here I am. I tried the rest while I was at it.”
“And how was it?”
Instead of answering, Duke Layton held out the bowl he had emptied so cleanly not a drop of broth remained.
“As expected, ramen works anywhere. I thought it would.”
“I’ve never tasted a dish with such depth of flavor in my life. But I hear that at first, you were the only one who ate it…”
“It’s no longer mine alone, but that makes me happier. I wanted many people to enjoy this taste.”
“That really is just like you. After everything you went through, it’s a relief to see you unchanged.”
For a moment, Oswald’s expression stiffened, but he quickly resumed his smile.
“In any case, I’m glad we could meet again like this. Before you leave the capital, come by my estate. We have far too much to talk about.”
“I worry I might cause you trouble if I do.”
“Do you think I care about the gossip of such people? Make sure you come.”
With that, the duke finished the rest of his cola and left with a satisfied expression, sharing ten portions of packaged tteok-twig-sun and gimbap with his butler.
After Oswald left with three rolls of gimbap packed to go, raindrops began to fall from the sky.
Customers seated at the tables moved further under the large parasols to avoid the rain, resigned to staying put until they finished eating.
The sudden drizzle quickly turned into a downpour.
“What the—!”
“Ah, this is annoying… I was in the middle of my ramen.”
As the rain poured down without warning, customers grumbled while hurriedly finishing their meals.
Though the food truck’s climate-control system could regulate humidity and temperature, it was powerless against falling rain.
In the end, no more customers came, and foot traffic died down completely.
With no one left watching, Nero hopped into the additional trailer.
About an hour later, the rain weakened, but the streets remained empty.
“Looks like business is done for today.”
“Alright, everyone—let’s pack it up.”
The surrounding stall owners began to withdraw one by one, full of regret.
For Jinseo, however, the rain felt almost welcome.
They had already made considerable sales in less than half a day, and what he needed now was rest.
“On days like this…” Perhaps because of that, the sound of rain pattering against the food truck felt oddly atmospheric to him. “It’d be perfect for a scallion pancake and a cup of makgeolli.”
“A scallion pancake? Makgeolli? What are those?” At the unfamiliar names slipping from Jinseo’s mouth, Aston perked up.
“In my country, on rainy days, we eat scallion pancakes as a side dish and drink makgeolli.”
After business ended, the memory of his parents making scallion pancakes with leftover ingredients and drinking together shimmered before Jinseo’s eyes.
He hadn’t understood it as a child, but now he was old enough to understand how they had felt.
“Makgeolli would have to be taken out from the trailer, but I can make scallion pancakes with what we have here. Shall I make some?”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Aston had no idea what kind of food a scallion pancake might be, but his mouth was already watering.
Everything Jinseo made or brought had, without exception, satisfied everyone.
“Aston, please chop this.”
“Yes.”
Sizzle.
As the scallion pancake cooked in the oil-coated pan, Jinseo hummed to himself.
“Come to think of it, we’re technically still open, so alcohol wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Ah—so makgeolli is alcohol?”
“Yes. But the pancake alone is fine.”
A moment later, when Jinseo set the finished pancake on a plate, Aston swallowed hard once more.
“Alright, this is how you eat it.”
Jinseo tore off a piece with his chopsticks, dipped it lightly in soy sauce, and Aston followed suit.
“Mmm.”
“Oh? Oh?”
Jinseo nodded, satisfied with the taste.
Aston, overwhelmed by flavor beyond his expectations, was momentarily at a loss for words.
“Ahh… this is a first for me as well. Your cooking surprises me every single time.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“It would be even better with that makgeolli, wouldn’t it?”
“I’m not sure if makgeolli would suit tastes here, but if it does, then yes.”
Instead of makgeolli, Jinseo drank a morning soda as a stand-in.
While Jinseo ate slowly, savoring the sound of rain, Aston devoured the pancake as if possessed.
By the time Jinseo noticed, he was already on the third one.
Jinseo set his chopsticks down, feeling full, but Aston’s showed no sign of stopping.
“Don’t you get tired of it?”
“Not at all. Just like you said, it really feels perfect for a rainy day.”
“Shall I make another?”
“Of course. With no customers, it’d be a waste not to eat more—ah…”
As Aston lifted a large piece and was about to swallow it, he hurriedly put his chopsticks down.
Someone was approaching, even though the rain was still falling.
Raindrops tapped softly against the shoes of a woman who approached step by step. Holding an umbrella, she glanced around the empty tables before sitting at the center of the counter.
“Welcome.”
Jinseo took out a dry towel and handed it to her.
“Thank you.”
As she wiped away the moisture and turned her head, her hair—falling to just brush her shoulders—swung lightly to the side.
Her gaze slid down from Jinseo’s face.
“That’s quite an unusual outfit.”
“Pardon?”
“The clothes you’re wearing. I’ve never seen a design like it.” She pointed to Jinseo’s cook’s uniform with her right hand. “I’m curious about the fabric—and the way it was stitched.”
Most first-time customers spent their time looking around the food truck or watching Jinseo cook before their food came out.
But it was the first time someone had shown such open interest in the uniforms worn by Jinseo and Aston.
I wondered why she was staring so intently—turns out she’s interested in the clothes. What a peculiar customer.
“The person behind you is wearing the same thing… hmm…”
She stood up and looked over Aston, who was preparing ingredients behind the counter.
Only after catching the scent of the scallion pancake did her attention finally shift elsewhere.
“That aroma is wonderful. Is it from the dish you were eating earlier?” She pointed to the pancake beyond the counter.
“Oh—yes. This is called a scallion pancake.”
“A scallion pancake?”
“It’s not on the menu. And it’s not bunsik, either.”
“I was going to order ramen, but is that scallion pancake available?”
Jinseo hesitated briefly and looked toward Aston.
Seeing him hurriedly stuff the remaining pancake into his mouth, Jinseo couldn’t help but chuckle.
From what I’ve seen on broadcasts, scallion pancakes get a decent response from foreigners too… it should be fine.
“Of course. Shall I serve one portion?”
“Yes.”
Jinseo poured the remaining batter into the pan and began frying the pancake.
Throughout the cooking process, her gaze kept drifting back to the uniforms, but since this was the first time he was serving the pancake to a customer, he put in extra care.
“It’s ready.”
At the sight of the freshly made pancake, steam rising from it, her eyes widened.
She had glimpsed it earlier, but this was the first time she had seen one properly intact, not torn apart by Aston.
It truly was an unfamiliar sight.
“The ingredients inside… this is completely unexpected. How should I eat it?”
“You can cut it with these.”
Normally, it was best torn apart with chopsticks, but Jinseo set out a fork and knife instead, easier for people here to use.
“And dipping it in this soy sauce makes it even better.”
At his explanation, she took the fork and knife in both hands.
Unlike her confident ordering earlier, she now hesitated visibly.
Only after Jinseo demonstrated by picking up a piece with his bare hand did she tear off a bite and put it in her mouth.
“I never imagined it would taste like this!”
Unlike Aston, who devoured it in large bites, she ate slowly, cutting small pieces.
The sight drew an unconscious smile from Jinseo.
She ate steadily, without pause, and before long finished the entire pancake.
Seeing the empty plate, still faintly glistening with oil, Jinseo felt there was no need to ask for her opinion.
“As the rumors said—an excellent dish.”
“Thank you.”
“I’d love to try your other food as well, but unfortunately I’ve already eaten.”
She sipped the fish-cake broth from a paper cup and glanced around the empty tables in front of the food truck.
A food truck unlike any other stalls.
Clothing worn by the owner and staff that she had never seen before—yet it all felt strangely natural.
She hadn’t managed to try the bunsik she had only heard about.
But even a test order of something not on the menu had been delicious, and her anticipation for the bunsik only grew.
“I really like this place.”
“If you come again, please try the other dishes too. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them. After all, our main offerings are bunsik.”
“Shall I? Then I’ll visit again next time. There’s a man I’ll be meeting for the first time, and I thought this might be a good place.”
“…I’m not sure about that.”
Jinseo looked at her with an awkward expression.
Unless they were already familiar with each other, having a first meeting at a bunsik stall felt questionable—even from the perspective of someone who ran one.
“Why? What’s wrong with this place?”
“Wouldn’t a more formal setting suit a first meeting better?”
“It feels refined enough to me. And if a place serves food this good, doesn’t that make it suitable?”
To others, the food truck now looked less like a street stall and more like an open-air restaurant serving high-end cuisine they had never seen before.
Well… there’s no reason the perception here would match Korea’s.
The image of “bunsik” that had long been ingrained in Jinseo’s mind was something he had unknowingly been undervaluing—even though it was his livelihood.
“This one’s on the house.”
“Oh my—this is so much… thank you. I’ll enjoy it.”
As she prepared to leave, Jinseo handed her a packaged portion of tteok-twig-sun.
It was his way of expressing gratitude—to a customer who had respected not only his food, but the place itself.