I Am a Bad Person -2-

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Clearly, I'd come as a guest, but here I was working.

"Huh?"

When I came to my senses, there I was in the mirror, dressed in a white chef's uniform. Transparent vinyl gloves on my hands, a white hairnet over my head—the me in the mirror. Malik, watching me stare blankly with a proud smile, said,

"It suits you well."

"Pardon?"

"I said it suits you. If I had my way, I'd have you bury your bones here for life."

I glanced at the gloves on my hands and asked,

"What is this?"

"Work clothes."

"So why am I wearing them? Didn't I say I came to eat?"

"Didn't I say I wouldn't feed you for free?"

Malik stated it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He'd called me here, but no free lunch—this novel bullshit from him. I figured even Gomtangi, left at the pet hotel, would talk better sense than this.

I peeled off the gloves and casually offered a farewell.

"Nice meeting you. I'll be off, then."

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Home."

"Hmm... I can't let you do that."

Malik dropped that loaded line. He'd been admiring the lady's Pexri No.1 with a mutter of "Impressive..." while she sat in it. Then he pulled a small slip of paper from his jacket pocket and showed it to me.

"?"

Just a receipt with some numbers, but was it glowing? Or was that my imagination?

I rubbed my eyes and peered at the receipt in Malik's hand.

"It's hard to see with your gracious halo shining around it, boss. Mind if I take a closer look?"

"So it's okay if I erase a few zeros?"

"No, sir!"

I reverently slipped the vinyl gloves back on and finished prepping for work. What job starts at 3 p.m.? Early shift end had me grinning happily.

"A worker with killer visuals and endless stamina—your very own Ricardo is right here. Who else would you hire?"

"Just for today. The cook had a sudden thing come up and took leave."

"If you call, I'll lick your boots clean."

Malik grimaced in disgust.

"Pass."

"Me too, actually."

"...?"

"Just being polite."

Leaving the flustered Malik behind, I turned to the lady patting her belly.

"Lady, you hang out here and watch. I'll whip up some tasty tteokbokki and bring it over."

"Yeah."

Malik subtly gripped her wheelchair handle and shook his head.

"Lady Olivia will slack off with me."

"Pardon?"

"Gotta taste-test the new mint chocolate tteokbokki we're launching and get her review on Pexri No.1."

The lady ambiguously nodded at Malik's polite posture, mumbling,

"Ricardo said not to go with strangers... but nah? We met last time, so not a stranger."

"Won't go far. Just chatting in the break room behind the kitchen."

"Don't talk casual to me."

"You too."

"Eek..."

"So, Ricardo... what do I do?"

She looked at me with pleading eyes for permission. I gave her a small smile.

"Guess I'm working solo again?"

"Yeah."

"...Have fun."

And so I got to work.

I'd thought in my past life about opening a restaurant with my recipes, but I never imagined the day would actually come.

Staring at the swarm of customers, I felt a weird mix of emotions. Like I'd checked off a bucket list item, but also like I was somehow getting screwed over. Thinking of that receipt tucked in my chest made strength surge through me, but remembering I'd come to eat and ended up as labor tanked my mood.

"Next customer."

"Oppa! You're so handsome!"

"I know."

A girl in academy uniform yelled at me. Her youthful face screamed freshman. I wasn't thrilled or anything—had to focus on the job. Unfazed, I piled nearly triple the portion into her bowl.

She stared at me, bewildered.

"Uh...?"

"You're pretty too, miss."

"Thanks!"

I winked and called the next one.

The next was a boy about her age. Watching her leave with a heaping bowl, he eyed me expectantly and boomed,

"Hyung...! You're handsome!"

"Yep."

I measured exactly the standard portion into his bowl. He gave me sad puppy eyes.

"This it?"

"Sorry. Store rules—standard portions only."

"..."

He slunk to his table with a depressed gaze. Malik would rage at my management style, but what could he do? If he trusted me to run the place, he'd pay the price. Sorry, boss, but this hardcore gender bias was just how I rolled—hope he gets it.

I eyed the long line and bellowed energetically,

"Next customer!"

Might as well go all in. The work wasn't as tough as I'd thought.

Maybe thanks to my past-life restaurant gig experience, the endless customers didn't overwhelm me once I got into the rhythm. With my sturdy body, I even sped up. Frying with both hands while making tteokbokki—I was turning into a food service monster.

That said... impressive.

I admired the staff silently restocking ingredients beside me. Total crew including me: four. One for orders and serving, one kitchen helper, one cashier—three besides me. Too few for the crowd, sure, but I'd trusted Malik's proud words not to worry. And damn, they delivered.

Their skills went beyond excellent to awe-inspiring. They moved like a single unit. Customer service on point. Even handling karens was masterful.

Wonder what they get paid.

Malik had every right to brag about this talent.

One group, two, ten, twenty—we handled them all. Then,

"Next customer, what'll it be?"

"...I'll have"

A familiar voice tickled my ear. Clear and juicy, like fresh fruit. I snapped my head up reflexively.

I'd never expected to hear that voice here. Shocked, I looked up and saw a girl with pink hair.

"Huh?"

She clutched a worn pink wallet, pondering the menu prices deeply.

"Oh? We meet again. Yuria."

The heroine of this novel. Yuria.

*

I read bewilderment on Yuria's face as our eyes met. She shrank like a guilty kid, lips twitching nervously—no sign she was ready to order.

The longer she hesitated, the louder the complaints from the line behind her.

-What the hell.

-Why isn't she ordering?

-Damn, it's cold. Hurry up.

-Hungry here!

Their roars filled my ears. Some customers, enslaved by my tteokbokki, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had already scarfed one bowl and lined up again. To spare my loyal slaves, I gently ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠asked Yuria,

"Um, Yuria?"

"..."

"Yuria!!"

"Y-Yes!?"

She jolted to attention. I cautiously pointed at the rowdy crowd.

"Gotta order."

"Oh... right."

"Personally recommend original tteokbokki with fritters. What'll you have?"

"Ah... okay."

Yuria hesitated, then revised her order.

"Any chance you have that flavor from the academy last time?"

"Academy?"

"Yeah... the one you made at the academy before."

"Ah, one sec."

I recalled the memory. Early semester, around when Yuria was getting subtly bullied by her friends. Ostracized, in slang. The sneaky kind of exclusion. When she entered the classroom, chatter died instantly. I knew she skipped the cafeteria then—too awkward. She'd slip out for lunch, eat a packed meal alone, or starve.

I'd been semi-ostracized myself back then, so I'd often cook for her solo lunches. Sneaking her to the dorms to feed her. I was skipping classes to grind academy quests anyway.

I instantly knew what she meant and nodded.

"The rose tteokbokki?"

"Ro...se?"

"Spicy with a creamy twist. Pale red sauce."

"Ah..."

Yuria nodded.

"Sounds right."

I gave her a small smile and whispered,

"Not on the menu normally. But for you, special make. And you two there."

I eyed Mikhail and Ruin standing awkwardly behind her.

"Starve."

"What?"

"Next customer!"

No point serving those two—they'd just bitch it sucked anyway. No sale for them.

"Get lost!"

Mikhail and Ruin gawked at me in disbelief.