A Michelin Invitation
Monday morning.
“Ugh……”
It was more like lunchtime than morning. I’d stayed up late messing around on my phone last night and overslept as a result, so I woke up later than usual today.
Sujin was already gone—off to work, no doubt.
This is straight-up unemployed freeloader territory.
“You’re finally up?”
“Yeah.”
Yelena had been tending the vegetable garden since dawn, her cheeks smudged with dirt.
I scratched my head in embarrassment when Do-cheol’s voice rang out from outside.
“Ah! Yeah! What’s up, Do-cheol?”
I opened the door, pretending to be extra welcoming for no reason, and there he was—clutching a massive bundle of tree roots or something.
“What’s that?”
“Yeah, I see that.”
I hadn’t ordered anything myself. Must be for Sujin, then.
“If it’s for Sujin, just leave it in front of her door.”
“……Really?”
I took the package, and sure enough, my name was on the recipient line.
[Recipient: Park Soo-hyeok]
It was big and heavy—definitely something substantial inside.
“Who’s it from…… Cheonma Group?”
Not Cheonma Bio Farm, but the full Cheonma Group. They might send something from the farm, sure—Sujin had registered the business under my name to dodge the no-side-hustle clause in her contract. But the Group itself? Why would a massive corp like that ship me a package?
“Hmm.”
Shoving aside the nagging suspicion, I tore it open.
“Oh.”
Inside was a fancy-packaged premium beef gift set. Japanese text all over the box—it had to be that legendary wagyu I’d only heard rumors about.
“Whoa, check out this marbling.”
“Soo-hyeok, what is it?”
“Haha, looks like a gift.”
I wasn’t huge on meat, but it screamed expensive. Even if I didn’t eat it, Sujin loved the stuff. Grilling it up for dinner might earn me some brotherly points.
“But why from Cheonma Group……?”
Rummaging deeper in the box turned up a single envelope.
[Director Jin So-wol]
“Jin So-wol……?”
I only knew one Jin So-wol: Cheonma Group’s director.
“……Why her?”
As far as I knew, we had zero direct connection. Chairman Cheon had sent that warning note about her, but I still didn’t get why. At best, she was way up the chain from Park Jun-tae, the manager we’d contracted with. Sure, I’d clashed with Executive Director Ju Ho-ryeong—and killed him—but that was his mess. Jin So-wol? No real ties.
“Jin So-wol, the director? Who’s that?”
“Yeah, bigwig at Cheonma Group.”
“Why’s someone like that sending you a gift?”
“Well……”
Yelena nailed it. Her tone grated a bit, but facts were facts.
“Let’s see first.”
If she sent a letter, might as well read it.
To President Park Soo-hyeok,
“Ahem.”
The opening was the usual flowery fluff you get with gifts—nothing special.
“Skip the pleasantries……”
[……Thus, we at Cheonma Bio Farm wish to express our heartfelt gratitude to President Park Soo-hyeok for choosing us, albeit belatedly. If you could share a convenient time, we’d be honored to arrange a meal in your honor.]
“Ho ho.”
Boiled down: thanks for the otherworld crop distribution deal, wanna buy you dinner?
“Fair enough. I’d been wondering when to cash that in.”
Our yields weren’t huge yet, but Sujin said the stuff was buzzing among the elite. Otherworld crops were dungeon-only rarities—until some rural siblings started farming them. Just rumors for now, though.
Cheonma Group’s probably suppressing the press.
Anyway, to them, me and Sujin were VIPs among VIPs. Proper treatment made sense—no bugging the house like Ju Ho-ryeong, hopefully.
Brrm brrm.
Phone buzzed as I finished the letter. Unknown number.
Who calls right now? Hardly anyone had my number after 20 years stuck in that other world.
“Hello?”
[President Park Soo-hyeok? Is that you?]
“Yes, speaking.”
[Nice to meet you. This is Jin So-wol.]
Figured as much. Calling the second I finished her letter.
“……You still got hidden cameras on me or what?”
[Pardon? What do you mean?]
She sounded genuinely clueless over the line. Hard to tell if it was an act.
“……How’d you get my number?”
[Oh? You provided it during the Cheonma Bio Farm contract. You agreed to personal info use, remember?]
“……”
Solid excuses—no easy holes to poke. I had filled out some forms beside Sujin for the deal.
Still felt off.
[Hidden cameras, huh? That’s an amusing accusation.]
“……Tch.”
Ju Ho-ryeong had ordered the bugs in our house. He was dead now.
But no relaxing yet—Jin So-wol might’ve pulled his strings, or they could be tight.
[Sorry if the sudden call startled you. I just wanted to thank you personally. We stand to gain a lot thanks to you.]
“……Gain?”
[Yes. Your otherworld crop success, of course. It’ll boost my position at the board meeting quite a bit.]
“Hmm. Really?”
I played along for now. Half-expecting Ju Ho-ryeong talk, but nothing.
Speaking of—after beating him, I checked Sonnae Lake Dungeon again. No body, no traces. And zero news on his crimes there, like they never happened.
Less headache for me, but it left a bad taste.
“So, what do you want?”
[Just dinner, as per the letter. That’s it. When are you free?]
Didn’t wanna meet. But I did.
I knew zilch about her. How much did she know?
Old me would dodge shit like this. Avoid the crap, not fear it.
“……”
But my gut said otherwise.
“Tonight work?”
[……Tonight?]
“Yeah. Nothing going on. Dinner okay?”
[……]
Caught her off-guard; silence on the line.
[Perfect. Shall I pick the place?]
“Sure. Oh, can I bring one guest?”
[Hehe. Of course. I’ll text the address.]
Click.
Call ended. Moments later, a text with a Yeouido restaurant address.
“……”
Curious, I searched it up.
Michelin 3-star—one of Korea’s rare elite spots.
“……Ahem.”
Never slept on a bed of stars myself, so it felt weird. Good weird? Bad?
“Soo-hyeok, what’s the verdict?”
“……Dinner tonight. Wanna join?”
“Hm. So we can have that beef for lunch?”
“Nope.”
Yelena pouted at my flat refusal.
“Stingy. Don’t you hate meat anyway?”
“Nah. Gotta empty the tank—gonna stuff myself silly tonight.”
“……Tonight?”
Sujin’d be tough on a weekday, so Yelena it was. Felt bad skipping Michelin with sis, but the wagyu gift should placate her.
“Yeah. Clear some space—we’re going all out.”
She hadn’t wronged me directly, but avenging Ju Ho-ryeong a little might settle my grudge. She was shady regardless.
How much will a 3-star bill run if I gorge?
I’d planned instant ramen for lunch. Now? Full purge mode.
“Hup! Hup!”
I did jumping jacks like an idiot; Yelena eyed me weird until I showed her the restaurant. Then she joined in.
“Hup! Hup!”
“Hup! Hup!”
We cabbed it to Yeouido. Faster to run, but with Yelena and weekday crowds, taxi was smarter.
“Ugh, starving.”
“Soo-hyeok, my stomach’s kissing my spine.”
“Hang in there.”
I was dying too.
“Gonna devour everything. They won’t know what hit ’em.”
Yeouido’s skyline whooshed by—transformed after 20 years. Massive buildings everywhere, lawns like gardens.
Used to be squat and shabby.
63 Building still towered, gold gleam screaming landmark.
Dad told kid-me it was painted solid gold. Got roasted for that in the army. Country bumpkin.
“Ahem.”
Sanghwa sat in a huge tower near 63 Building.
“Thanks~”
“Sure.”
Stepping out hit me with another wave of change. Gangwon’s countryside felt timeless; Yeouido? Alien, even compared to dungeons.
“Let’s go.”
“Right!”
Yelena nodded with grim resolve.
She always hides out—sure this is safe?
Bit my tongue; she’d handle it.
“Oh.”
Michelin vibes hit hard: Korean-Chinese fusion decor, soothing incense tickling the nose.
“Welcome.”
“Uh…… yeah.”
A staffer in sleek modified hanbok bowed deeply. Even I felt a bit cowed by the aura.
“Uh…… we have a reservation.”
“Yes, sir. Name, please?”
“Er…… Park Soo-hyeok? Or maybe under Jin So-wol.”
“……Ah.”
His eyes flickered.
“Confirmed. This way to the private pavilion.”
Pavilion?
I nodded. He led us to a dedicated elevator, punching in a code.
“Right this way.”
Scratching my head, we rode up. Doors opened to Sanghwa’s pavilion.
A vast room walled in floor-to-ceiling glass. Cherry trees bloomed white inside. Amid the serene garden vibe sat a blue-tiled gazebo, waiting.
“You’ve arrived.”
A woman at the center greeted us with an enigmatic smile.
Snow-white skin against ink-black, flowing hair. Foreign-pale, but features purely East Asian—and stunning.
“……”
First impressions had me staring. Those deep, unknowable eyes—brown, but with a red glint?
“Director Jin So-wol?”
“Indeed. President Park Soo-hyeok.”
“……”
She smirked, quirking a brow, then gestured at Yelena.
“And your companion……? Wife, perhaps?”
“Eek.”
Yelena turtle-shelled her neck.
“……No. Just a friend.”
This bitch. Why’s that piss me off?
Irritating, but priorities. I fiddled with my stretchy pants—gorging gear—and sat.
You’re next.