54
Chapter 54 The Sugarman of Gamja-ri, Munseon-eup
As an outdoor kitchen was set up in the yard of Sangnok Elementary School’s residence and dozens of cameras were installed around it, the children from Happy Orphanage broke into bright smiles.
“Hyung, what are you making today?”
Even though they now ate meat with every meal, dishes that went beyond common sense—like Korean beef brisket tteokbokki—were something they could only taste when Mino stepped in.
“Let’s make kimbap!”
“Then I’ll make square kimbap!”
“I’ll make round kimbap!”
The children had come to enjoy cooking just as much as eating, thanks to Mino. They were eager to level up from assistants to actual cooks.
“I want to use that today!”
Especially, they wanted to try tools they had been forbidden to use before for safety reasons, like the kimbap cutting machine.
“But what’s that?”
Something even more fascinating than the triangular kimbap mold caught their eyes.
“No! That’s dangerous!”
“Is it a knife too?”
“Yes.”
It looked like an ordinary square frame, but inside were dozens of blades arranged like a grid.
“What does it cut?”
“It’s for making potato cubes.”
“Potatoes? Are we eating potatoes today?”
“Yes.”
“…I don’t like potatoes…”
The kids pouted—not because they couldn’t use knives, but because they had to eat potatoes again on a special day.
“We can eat potatoes anytime!”
“Exactly!”
They had lived in a place practically called Potato Village, where potatoes were more common than rice.
“Hey, you said we’re preparing for a cooking competition. Can potatoes really work?”
The older kids showed even stronger resistance.
“If it’s potatoes, I’m out.”
“Same. Why cook something we won’t even eat?”
“You’ll regret it.”
“I don’t care. You eat it yourself.”
“To be honest, even if it’s good, it’s still just potatoes. We don’t even eat potatoes in braised ribs.”
Mino tried to persuade them confidently, but their resistance ran deep.
They had eaten potato dishes every morning and carried potato lunches to school for years.
Boiled, fried, braised—even mixed into rice. No matter how it was cooked, it was still potato.
And to others, their potato lunches symbolized being orphans.
So many avoided bringing potato dishes to avoid being labeled the same.
“I’m sick of potatoes.”
They had even begged the director to stop packing potato lunches once things improved.
“Then I guess I’ll cook with the school kids instead.”
Mino calmly accepted and poured a sack of potatoes into a basin.
“You actually bought these? These ugly potatoes?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t lie. Who would pay for these?”
“I got them cheap.”
“…What?”
“They offered them for free, but they’re too good for that.”
These potatoes were considered defective due to strict standards, even though they were perfectly edible.
The orphanage had relied on such discarded potatoes.
“That’s why I bought them. Just because they look bad doesn’t mean they should be thrown away. I need potato cubes anyway. Whether they’re pretty or not, once they’re in my hands, they become potato cubes.”
“…Then why pay?”
“We should all live well together. And I wanted to show appreciation.”
He glanced at Kang Jiseop.
The PD grinned, clearly willing to support.
“And we should repay kindness. Even if we don’t eat potatoes, we owe something to those who shared them with us.”
The older kids paused.
“…Alright, that’s enough.”
They quietly put their aprons back on.
“…We’ve received a lot, haven’t we…”
“Just wash them, right?”
“Yes.”
They had been too busy surviving to realize many things before.
Now, they had the space to understand.
“I want to help too!”
As the older kids changed their minds, the younger ones followed.
“You guys peel the potatoes.”
“With knives?”
“No.”
Mino handed them spoons.
“Scrape gently like this.”
“Yes!”
“Do it cleanly, or you’ll only be allowed to eat.”
“Yes!”
“Even you older kids, use spoons. There are too many potatoes.”
“…What are you even making with all this?”
“Corn dogs.”
“What dogs?”
“Hot dogs.”
“…Wait, with potatoes?”
“Not just adding. Embedding them.”
“…What?”
“There won’t be sausage. It’ll be filled with cheese.”
“Cheese?”
They couldn’t even distinguish corn dogs from hot dogs.
“You’ll understand when you taste it.”
“…Still feels like too many potatoes.”
“We’re not just making hot dogs.”
“…What?”
“There’s something else.”
‘Hot dogs are for businesses. But chips… that’s different.’
“Potato chips. Very special ones.”
---
“Wow!”
The potato cheese hot dog looked like a spiked club, captivating everyone instantly.
“But you’re coating it in sugar?”
Rolling it over sugar made some adults uneasy.
“Just try it.”
Mino handed them hot dogs with ketchup.
“…Wow.”
One bite—
And they entered a new world of flavor.
Sweet sugar, tangy ketchup, familiar dough—
And then—
“…What is this?”
The cheese.
Not like sliced cheese, not like pizza cheese.
Rich, mild, completely new.
“Even without meat… it’s this good.”
The kids who had worked hard felt it was worth it.
Even hot dog lovers admitted—
“No sausage is actually better.”
“Of course. Cheese is more expensive.”
“…Really?”
“If you replace cheese with sausage, it won’t taste like this.”
“…I see.”
“Now, let’s fry the chips.”
“Potato chips?”
“The hidden card that will shake the snack industry.”
Mino poured honey and butter into the seasoning.
“Hey, what are you doing?!”
People expecting salty chips were horrified.
“If you want salty chips, go buy them.”
The adults were speechless.
But the company staff watched seriously.
“This is completely different.”
“And using discarded potatoes is brilliant.”
“He’s a genius.”
“But it has to taste good.”
“It will.”
“Because of sugar and butter?”
“No. Because of his sense of taste.”
They understood.
Taste wasn’t just ingredients.
It was judgment, memory, and combination.
“He can do it.”
Workers from nearby sites arrived without complaint.
“That means this place is already famous for taste.”
Even without fancy interiors—
Flavor alone brought people.
“He’s like a Sugarman.”
Sweet in both cooking and heart.
“Today is a day of giving.”
“…He’s amazing.”
“Truly someone destined for success.”
They watched Mino smiling—
And knew.
He was different.