Even a Single Can of Saury Is Precious

While the siblings farmed and made their way back, I flew the drone up for a light patrol. I only got two hours of use a day, so it only made sense to spend them wisely.

I'd hoped that Gang Cheol-u, the biker gang leader, might give up his obsession with the siblings, but that seemed unlikely to come easily.

Sure, everyone in the apocalypse was too busy surviving to think about much else — but the moment you became the head of an organization, you somehow found yourself with surplus time for scheming.

-Whirrr.

On the screen, Gang Cheol-u's crew came into view, erecting barricades out of tires and oil drums.

But the shape of the work was strange.

They weren't encircling the inside of the shantytown.

The men were pushing the wrecked cars blocking the road off to the shoulder, clearing away the debris, and widening the passage.

Which meant something big and loud was coming.

They would have gotten word that the siblings had brought someone back into the shantytown.

So they'd crawled on their own into a shantytown that had already been picked clean — a place with nothing worth looting?

They'd have caught on that we had something to rely on in there.

Judging that a slow stranglehold wouldn't work, they apparently intended to flatten the whole thing at once.

If they only worked during daylight and took time to clear out the surrounding zombies… five days at the fastest, by my estimate.

There was no need to panic.

In the meantime, the waterworks would be restored and the inn would keep growing. Even in the worst case, we could hold out inside the barrier.

Not that I had any intention whatsoever of sitting still and taking it, of course.

I was running the numbers in my head as I recalled the drone when—

"Boss! We got everything you asked for!"

The inn's door swung open and the Yu siblings came in. A bundle of dirt-covered perilla stalks jutted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out from the side of Yu Jin's backpack, and she carried a couple of heavy plastic bags in both hands.

Inside the bags were tightly sealed containers — the savory smell of doenjang and the spicy kick of gochujang leaking through the lids, along with the sharp fragrance of sesame leaves.

"Ooh, that smells good."

The leaves in good shape would go into tonight's dinner, and the roots could be planted in the back courtyard to propagate on their own. The beginning of sesame-leaf self-sufficiency.

Yu Hyeon set something down with a heavy thud.

[Sinan Sea Salt, 10 kg]

"…Oh."

Now that was a find.

Yu Jin struck a triumphant pose beside it.

"He's the one who carried it, but I'm the one who found it."

Surprisingly enough, a year into the apocalypse, salt wasn't exactly a rarity. If anything, it was closer to lying around everywhere.

Thanks to the kimchi-making culture, bags of sea salt were tucked away in the utility rooms of almost every residential block.

During the early looting sprees, sugar got raided with feverish desperation — whole sacks taken in one go — but salt was only ever pinched by the handful. Nobody was dumb enough to stuff a ten-kilogram lump of rock into their backpack and haul it around.

Ten years from now might be a different story, but for now, salt was something you literally tripped over.

That said, that was when you were scavenging alone on the move. Once you claimed a base and settled in, the calculus flipped 180 degrees.

I'd been just about to send someone out to find a bag of salt, so having them bring one back unprompted was pure gratitude.

For the foreseeable future, our salt worries were completely over.

"Good work, both of you. Go wash up with your brother and rest."

"Yes, Boss!"

I sent the siblings upstairs. The toilet upgrade had clearly been the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right call — even after the three of us had washed up earlier, there was still water left.

Compared to the days when I'd shivered through a single wet wipe to save every drop of bottled water, this was a monumental leap forward.

Other people were groaning because they didn't even have muddy puddles to drink from, and here I was luxuriating in clear water bailed straight from the toilet tank.

If a mere toilet tank brought this much bliss, what would it be like once the waterworks were up and running?

While the two of them went to wash their hands, I headed to the courtyard.

After transplanting the perilla roots to one side of the inn's yard, I plucked the fresh leaves.

Being wild-grown, they weren't as tender as the supermarket kind, but the aroma was absolutely killer.

I laid the ingredients out on a tray.

Freshly picked sesame leaves, the containers of doenjang and gochujang, a can of saury, and a can of whole tomatoes.

And the secret weapon I'd bought from the shop window.

"Alright, let's get started."

It was still a while before dark, but I'd decided to eat dinner early tonight. I had things to do after sundown.

Just as I rolled up my sleeves, a tiny head popped out through the gap of the creaking back door — the baby shark, freshly scrubbed and dry.

"Wow… Boss, what are you making?"

The kid scanned the ingredients, and her expression darkened.

"Aww… saury…"

Her lips stuck out about a mile.

Well, fair enough. She'd survived on cold saury straight from the can, or on that horrific abomination of a stew hastily boiled in tomato sauce — of course she'd be sick of it.

"What, don't you like saury?"

At my question, she seemed to realize her slip, shot me a nervous glance, quickly sucked her lips back in, and shook her head.

"N-no…! I don't dislike it. I can eat anything…"

Watching her put on the act of a wise old soul trapped in a child's body was at once pitiful and adorable, and a chuckle escaped me.

"You don't have to force yourself to like it. What we're eating tonight is going to be completely different from the saury you know."

"Really…?"

A hint of skepticism flickered in her eyes. I picked up the can and pulled her over to my side.

"Watch closely. I'm about to show you what cooking actually is."

The apocalypse and cooking — a truly mismatched pair of words.

I pulled the ring tabs and opened two cans of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠saury.

"Eek!"

Despite her bold declaration that she didn't mind the smell, she wrinkled her nose on reflex.

With my chopsticks, I carefully lifted the saury fillets out whole, without breaking them, and laid them on a plate.

Then I opened the tub of doenjang, scooped out a generous spoonful, and spread it thinly across the surface of each piece.

"Huh…? You put soybean paste on the fish?"

Sea's eyes went wide with wonder.

"The doenjang pulls the fishy smell right out. Let it marinate like this for ten minutes and the odor's gone — the flesh gets even firmer."

While the fillets marinated, I looked down at the broth pooled in the bottom of the cans.

Old me would have dumped it straight down the sink, but after the collapse, this was protein-rich stock you couldn't get for love or money.

People usually boiled it along with the fish or drank it straight.

I poured every last drop of the saury broth into the stockpot, then scooped salt out of the burlap sack of Sinan sea salt and dumped in a heaping handful.

"Whoa, you're putting that much salt in the broth? It's going to be super salty!"

"It's supposed to be salty. I'm going to boil this down hard and make fish sauce."

I lit the butane burner and set the pot on it, then put water on to boil at the other station.

-Bubububub.

As the fish essence reduced, a rich, savory aroma filled the air.

Drawn by the smell like a moth to a flame, Yu Jin poked her head in.

"Wow… Boss, what IS that smell? It smells seriously delicious!"

"Saury broth."

With perfect timing, the fish sauce finished, and I decanted it into a plastic bottle as I cleared the first burner.

One bottle of house seasoning that wouldn't spoil even at room temperature — complete.

Now it was time for the real main event.

Water came to a rolling boil in the stockpot; I salted it and dumped in the tri-colored pasta.

"Wow, what's that snack-like stuff? There's green and orange too!"

Sea's eyes went round as saucers.

"It's tri-color fusilli pasta."

"Pasta? Like spaghetti?"

"Eh, close enough."

I was about to say 'I picked the kind with spinach and carrot in it, mind you,' but held my tongue.

Short durum wheat pasta bought with hard-earned points. The spiral-shaped short stuff.

It had more protein than rice, digested slowly, and kept you full for ages.

Loaded with vitamins and minerals on top of that, with a long shelf life to boot — honestly, it was God-given perfect food.

There was a reason broke solo-livers before the collapse worshipped pasta as the ultimate value king.

While the noodles boiled, I brought out the secret weapon I'd been saving.

The chunk of lard I'd set aside earlier.

I set a frying pan on the burner and dropped in a generous knob of lard.

-Sssssshhh!

The moment the fat melted across the hot pan, the back courtyard filled with a nutty aroma.

"…!"

Sea and Yu Jin's eyes went wide at the same time. Yu Jin licked her lips — those who'd tasted it knew.

"Man, pork fat really is a cheat code."

I crumbled hardtack crackers between my fingers and tossed the pieces into the lard.

Once they fried up crisp, I sprinkled them with a pinch of salt and fished them out — homemade croutons, of a sort.

"Here, Sea. Open up."

Sea accepted it in a daze, and her cheeks puffed out round and full.

-Crunch!

"…! Ish sho good! It'sh like a meahty crackeh!"

Meanwhile, the noodles in the second pot finished cooking.

Time to run both burners at full capacity.

I coated the first pan with lard and crushed in the whole tomatoes, then dropped in the big doenjang-marinated saury fillets.

Mashing the fillets with a spatula as they simmered down, the visual was, for all intents and purposes, a proper bolognese.

In the second pan, I stirred gochujang and doenjang into the lard to make a spicy chili oil.

I poured in the remaining saury and tore the freshly picked sesame leaves over the top. That sharp, pungent fragrance of perilla.

Then I dotted a half-spoonful each of the specially reduced fish sauce into both pans.

The depth of flavor was apparent from the aroma alone.

I divided the boiled tri-color fusilli between the two pans and stir-fried over high heat, until the sauce and saury clung to every crevice of the spiraled noodles.

Sea got a heaping plate of the mild doenjang-tomato fusilli, crowned with the fried hardtack croutons.

The adults' plates steamed with blazing-red gochujang perilla fusilli.

"Everyone out here! Let's eat!"

And so began dinnertime.

"Thank you for the meal!"

Sea demurely pressed her hands together in greeting, then stole a glance at me — apparently waiting for me to eat first.

There was something both bittersweet and endearing about watching a kid mind her manners in the middle of the apocalypse.

Only after I lifted my spoon and dug into the pasta did she finally move, as if she'd been waiting for the signal.

The little one scooped up a careful bite and popped it into her mouth.

-Munch munch.

She'd barely chewed twice before her eyes went wide as dinner plates.

"…Huh?"

"Well?"

"…It doesn't taste fishy at ALL! It's super delicious, and delicious, and really, REALLY delicious!"

Emotional acclaim erupting from a limited vocabulary.

Oblivious to the sauce smeared around her mouth, she kept shoveling spoonful after spoonful.

"Wow, this is insane…"

Exclamations burst from the adults' table too.

The hearty umami of gochujang and doenjang, the nuttiness of the lard, and the sharp bite of perilla leaves wove together in perfect harmony between the spirals of pasta.

Yu Hyeon had his head buried in his plate, eating without a single word, while Yu Jin let out one awed gasp after another.

"Boss, you're seriously a culinary genius or something. Were you a chef?"

Watching all this in quiet stillness, Han Taeseok's hands trembled. He kept scooping pasta into his mouth, spoon after spoon.

"We never got to eat anything like this, even at the Gimpo Shelter. This is… truly…"

His eyes were rimmed red as he wiped the sauce from the corner of Sea's mouth.

"…It's really, truly delicious. Boss."

A single line soaked in sincerity.

And then the plates were scraped perfectly clean…

but the notification chime I'd been waiting for never came.

Cold sweat broke out on my forehead from the anxiety — and then Sea scurried over and whispered to me.

"Boss, can I try this one too?"

I'd deliberately not given her the spicy one, worried it would be too much for her. But if a guest wanted it, I had to provide.

So I scooped up a single spoonful and fed it into her mouth.

Munch munch.

"WAAH, it's hot!"

"Told you it was spicy."

"But it's tasty!"

And at that very moment—

Ding—!

The long-awaited golden status window bloomed before my eyes.

Well, of course.

The VIP had been thoroughly delighted with the inn's service.

'Oho?'

Now that was a very welcome notification.

The hiring limit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had been three for a while now, but I'd only ever had two 'active deployment slots' to actually put people to work.

With the Yu siblings slotted in, the remaining seat had been dead weight — but this reputation bonus had finally smashed the shackles off.

Meaning: hire a third person, and all three could be deployed simultaneously.

'In that case… time to start recruiting my third slave.'

My gaze drifted, ever so naturally, toward the little one standing in front of me.