Mom Wants Jjajangmyeon
So the contract was successfully signed.
It was on the condition that I'd work as an affiliated writer for Songi Media for a while. Even in my original world, web novel authors often joined management agencies. Writers couldn't handle production and distribution all by themselves. That's why companies like this took care of them.
In exchange, the agency took a cut of the author's earnings.
From my perspective, I had no regrets about signing with Songi Media. Getting here was a breeze now—they covered all transportation costs. Of course, that meant bus or subway fares. No taxis allowed. Once I brought them a huge hit, I'd have to ask if I could take cabs.
Riding the bus or subway alone as a first-grader drew way too much attention. It wouldn't have been so bad with Mom and Dad, but by myself, I felt everyone's eyes on me. Some even asked if I was lost.
Maybe it was the stress of all those stares, but by the time I reached Songi Media, I was starving. I told them straight up.
"Buy me something delicious to celebrate the contract."
"You got it. What'll it be?"
Kim Sung-ho glanced back and forth between me and Yoo Min-ah.
"I'll eat whatever Sora wants."
"Then what do you want, Sora? Just say the word! This ajusshi and your unnie will treat you!"
In this body, I'd hardly ever eaten out. Paying off debt was smarter than splurging on restaurant food. But this wasn't our money—it was theirs. I could order whatever I craved.
I named my top pick.
"Jjajangmyeon... I want jjajangmyeon."
How I'd missed that flavor. No wonder there was a song about a mom craving jjajangmyeon. It had been years since I'd had it at home. With our family's situation, it was a luxury we couldn't afford. We ate at the Free Soup Kitchen because we had no money—jjajangmyeon was out of the question.
Sure, I'd had jjajang ramen, but that was just a shameful knockoff, not real jjajangmyeon. No matter how tasty the instant stuff was, comparing it to a proper Chinese restaurant's dish would be an insult.
Besides, jjajangmyeon from this era tasted even better somehow.
The stuff I ate before dying was just mediocre slop from some unskilled restaurant owner. Communities were full of complaints that old-school jjajangmyeon was superior.
"Alright, there's a great Chinese place nearby. Let's go there—it's delicious."
"Yes!"
I followed, drooling. Now that I was a proper author, it was fine to indulge. Even if I hadn't published yet.
We hit the Chinese restaurant off-peak, avoiding lunch rush. I figured it wouldn't be crowded, but I was wrong. It was packed. The narrow tables buzzed with chatter in the cramped space. Cell phones weren't widespread yet, so people actually talked while eating.
Once smartphones went nationwide and content exploded, folks would just stare at their screens in silence. That was the future.
But this era had its own charm. Staring at a phone while eating wasn't wrong, but it lacked that warm, human vibe. It felt cold, even.
"Eutcha."
I naturally split my chopsticks and spoon. Yoo Min-ah noticed.
"Whoa! Sora, I was gonna do that for you."
"It's fine. When someone's treating, this is the least I can do."
Kim Sung-ho gave me a look like I was unbelievable.
"Sora, you're really... talking like a total old soul."
"No way, boss! Sora's not an old soul—she's just polite!"
Yoo Min-ah jumped to my defense, but she was right—I was an adult. And yeah, "old soul" fit. Add my past life's age to this one, and I might even be older than Kim Sung-ho.
Yoo Min-ah sat next to me, of course. No way they'd stick a little girl next to a guy reeking of cigarettes and sweat.
As I pondered that nonsense, the server handed us menus. I scanned mine. Living in an era where jjajangmyeon cost 10,000 won made the 4,000-won price here feel dirt cheap.
But with minimum wage rising, it wouldn't stay that low forever.
"Why jjajangmyeon, though? There's chicken, pizza—fancier stuff."
Jjajangmyeon wasn't pricey. It was a working-class staple, friendly to the wallet. Under 4,000 won a serving. Chicken or pizza? Those were the expensive ones Kim Sung-ho mentioned.
"It's been so long since I had real jjajangmyeon—I was craving it more than chicken or pizza. And with Mom and Dad working hard to pay off debt, it'd be a waste for me to order whatever."
Kim Sung-ho gave an awkward smile. Yoo Min-ah, beside me, dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
"Sob sob... Sora, you're so pitiful. You're so thoughtful—it makes unnie want to help."
Help how? I didn't know our exact debt, but I could guess. Even if Yoo Min-ah devoted everything to it, she'd barely cover 1%. Probably less. She was your average newbie office worker—no car, no wealth.
"I'm used to it. It's fine."
The mood had turned UFC-level heavy. I needed to lighten things up. No way to enjoy delicious jjajangmyeon with grim faces.
"Just sell lots of my books! Once the debt's paid, I'll treat you to fancy beef. Since you treated me to jjajangmyeon."
"No need, Sora. Live your life doing what you want..."
"Hmm..."
We chatted as we waited. Soon, the food arrived: three bowls of jjajangmyeon, crispy tangsuyuk, and—true to the generous old days—free gyoza.
In my time, five orders wouldn't snag free gyoza. This era was different, alright. Even a small order got extras.
I grabbed my chopsticks and mixed vigorously.
This era's jjajangmyeon differed from my future version. More veggies in the chunjang sauce for starters. Plenty of meat, too. And a generous topping of green peas for decoration.
Future jjajangmyeon cut costs: half the veggies, scant meat, no peas—they'd gone extinct.
Perfection.
I swirled it with chopsticks and took a huge bite. The flavor exploded in my mouth—magnificent. No wonder Kim Sung-ho recommended it. This was pro chef-level jjajangmyeon.
Eating in-house had its perks, too. Delivery meant cold, bloated noodles. Here, straight from the peak—fresh and flawless.
"By the way, Sora. For Sunlight Painter—you've roughly planned the ending?"
Yoo Min-ah asked.
I nodded.
"Yes, of course."
"Really?"
The original ending was so wild, it sparked tons of talk. Later revisions toned it down—I skipped mentioning that.