Chapter 39

* * *

Daniel Choi looked back and forth between Yoo Ilhan and Kang Chan, both of whom were clearly flustered in front of him, and recalled what had happened earlier in his office.

After finishing the class, he had been resting briefly in his office.

Then a knock sounded on the door and a student carefully stepped inside.

It was Kim Cheolsu, the one who had presented the excellent ratatouille earlier that day.

“Hello, professor.”

“Kim Cheolsu? Good work today. Let me say it again. Your ratatouille was truly impressive.”

But despite Daniel Choi praising his dish so highly, Kim Cheolsu’s expression remained stiff.

Sensing something strange, Daniel Choi studied him carefully.

After hesitating for a moment, Kim Cheolsu finally spoke.

“…Thank you, but actually that praise shouldn’t be directed at me.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I think my dish and Kang Chan hyung’s dish were switched today.”

Daniel Choi’s brows immediately furrowed.

It was hard to believe.

“Is that true?”

A semester’s grade was determined by adding up the scores from each practical exam.

Because of that, each practical exam was an important evaluation that influenced the final grade.

Both Kang Chan’s and Kim Cheolsu’s dishes today had been excellent, but there was still a slight difference in points.

As a result, the situation could have ended up disadvantaging Kang Chan.

Kim Cheolsu gave a bitter smile and nodded.

“Yes. It’s true.”

“How are you so certain?”

He scratched his head awkwardly and gave a sheepish grin.

“Just like no parent fails to recognize their own child, there’s no way I wouldn’t recognize the dish I made with my own hands. I tasted it afterward and realized it wasn’t mine.”

Daniel Choi listened silently.

“Just to be sure, I tasted Kang Chan hyung’s ratatouille too, and that’s when I was certain. That one was the dish I made. Since our student numbers are right next to each other, there must’ve been a mix up.”

Only then did Daniel Choi realize that the strange feeling he had during class hadn’t been his imagination.

His instinct that the deep and delicate flavor belonged to Kang Chan had been correct after all.

Daniel Choi looked at Kim Cheolsu with a serious expression.

“If that’s true, the scores should be corrected. But in that case, it might disadvantage you.”

“That’s fine. Getting a high score using someone else’s ability doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

Daniel Choi’s eyes shifted slightly at the unexpected answer.

Students at that age were usually driven by competitiveness.

Some would use tricks or unfair means if it meant winning.

In that sense, Kim Cheolsu’s attitude was rare.

People who only chase results may rise quickly for a time.

But success built that way is nothing more than an illusion.

Achievements built on someone else’s ability eventually collapse.

On the other hand, accomplishments earned through one’s own effort bring pride and the joy of growth.

Kim Cheolsu had already realized that at such a young age.

Daniel Choi quietly nodded, thinking Kim Cheolsu had an admirable mindset.

“Very well. I’ll speak with Kang Chan and let you know.”

And just as he was about to go find Kang Chan, Kang Chan appeared with Yoo Ilhan.

After hearing the entire story, Daniel Choi had initially been furious.

Yoo Ilhan had abandoned the most basic principle of being a chef.

Did someone like that even deserve to cook?

But after hearing Kang Chan’s words, his thoughts changed instantly.

‘Looks like I still have a long way to go. Kids these days are surprisingly mature.’

When he first saw Kang Chan during the practical exam, he had simply thought he was a talented student.

But now he realized Kang Chan possessed something deeper.

Someone who could forgive a friend who was sincerely reflecting on his mistake.

Someone who could consider the situation of another person who might be put in trouble.

That was the true dignity of a chef.

Daniel Choi gave a faint smile as he looked at Kang Chan again.

The more he observed him, the more Kang Chan reminded him of his own former teacher.

A person whose skill lived in his fingertips.

And someone who wasn’t stingy about sharing that skill.

Such chefs were rare.

After thinking for a while, Daniel Choi finally spoke to Kang Chan.

“Kim Cheolsu came by earlier.”

“Cheolsu did?”

“He said he believed his dish and yours had been switched. He said he wanted to be evaluated properly.”

For a moment Kang Chan was speechless.

Then he let out a relieved sigh and smiled.

“That sounds like Cheolsu.”

Daniel Choi chuckled quietly while staring at him.

“You two seem to have found good friends.”

“I think so too.”

Kang Chan smiled calmly, yet warmly.

Sometimes having one reliable ally by your side might be better than any brilliant cooking skill.

* * *

After leaving the professor’s office, Yoo Ilhan hesitated for a while before following after me and muttering quietly.

“Hyung. I’m really sorry about today. And about the haute cuisine practice too.”

His voice carried deep regret.

I stopped walking and looked at him.

“You know I’m not the only one you should apologize to, right?”

“Yes. I’ll apologize to Cheolsu separately.”

“Don’t ever do something like that again. Your skills are already good enough.”

Yoo Ilhan shook his head with a completely discouraged expression.

His shoulders slumped.

“No. I’m always lacking.”

Hearing his weak voice left me momentarily speechless.

The Yoo Ilhan I remembered was very different from the one standing in front of me.

In the past, I had met Yoo Ilhan once on a cooking program in Korea.

At the time he was a Michelin three star chef.

He was incredibly confident and had strong conviction and pride in his cooking.

That impression had stayed with me.

He told me about his grandfather.

Back then I had been wandering abroad, exhausted from several business ventures and unsure about the direction of my life.

Yoo Ilhan shared stories about his grandfather’s experiences as a chef overseas.

All the trials he faced and the success he achieved.

He offered me sincere advice.

Listening to him back then helped me realize many things.

The path I needed to walk.

What I had been overlooking.

But the Yoo Ilhan standing before me now looked incredibly fragile.

Even someone who seemed so strong once had a time when he wavered like this.

After all, behind every success there are countless struggles.

I wondered what I could say to lighten the burden in his heart, even a little.

Then I carefully spoke.

“Your effort will shine someday. Try believing in yourself.”

“…”

“You don’t need to let someone else’s evaluation control you. It might feel like everything right now, but with time you’ll realize it isn’t.”

At that moment Yoo Ilhan lowered his head.

His small shoulders trembled slightly.

Soon he began rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and quietly crying.

The desire to do well and move forward.

Everyone feels that.

Who in the world lives without ever making a mistake?

We all make foolish mistakes at least once and learn from them.

That’s how people grow.

I lightly patted Yoo Ilhan on the shoulder a couple of times.

Then I turned away without another word.

His quiet sobs echoed down the silent hallway.

* * *

Feeling somewhat relieved, I left the campus and headed home.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

When I checked the screen, it was Jo Miwon.

“Hey, Kang Chan.”

“Long time no hear.”

“Have you been eating properly?”

“Well. My mom makes breakfast every morning, so I always eat before leaving.”

Jo Miwon let out a nostalgic exclamation.

“Man, the soybean paste stew your mom made during vacation before was incredible. I want to eat it again.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Why not?”

“You emptied an entire pot back then. Who do you think had to deal with that?”

“That was a whole pot…?”

“Who scraped the bottom of the pot clean and asked if there was more?”

“…Ahem.”

Jo Miwon quickly shut his mouth, sounding embarrassed.

After a short silence, I casually asked him.

“By the way, how’s your streaming going?”

“Streaming?”

His voice, which had been lively just moments ago, suddenly lowered.

I stopped walking and looked at my phone.

“What’s wrong? Not going well?”

“No, it’s not that…”

“Then what is it? Just tell me.”

Jo Miwon hesitated repeatedly.

When I waited patiently, he finally asked in a small voice.

“Well… are you very busy these days?”

“Hm. Not extremely busy. Why?”

“Ah… well… how would you feel if I asked you to appear on my stream?”

“Huh? Me?”

Jo Miwon hurriedly added.

“…Ah, I know you’re busy. You don’t have to if it’s inconvenient. The viewers were just curious about you, so I thought I’d ask.”

Only then did I understand why Jo Miwon had been acting strangely.

He had called to ask if I would appear on his stream, but found it hard to say.

That made sense.

Recently I had been busy with school and helping at my parents’ shop, so I hadn’t had much time to talk with him.

I chuckled lightly and answered.

“Alright.”

The moment I agreed without hesitation, Jo Miwon sounded relieved and excited.

“…Wait, really?”

“I thought it was something serious. Sure, I’ll do it.”

Honestly, I never intended to refuse.

Thanks to Jo Miwon’s stream, my parents’ snack bar had received a lot of help.

If anything, I felt it was only natural to help him in return.

Besides, that’s what friends are for.

Helping each other whenever possible.

With that, I ended the call after promising to appear on the stream.

Of course, at that moment I had no idea what kind of impact that broadcast would bring.

* * *

After finishing the call with Kang Chan, Jo Miwon stared blankly into the air, lost in thought.

At first, he simply wanted to brag about Kang Chan.

Later, viewers kept saying they wanted to see Kang Chan, so he had planned to laugh it off.

But somehow he ended up getting provoked by the viewers and promising to invite Kang Chan onto the stream.

Of course, Kang Chan agreeing so easily had been unexpected luck.

But the real problem started now.

‘What should I even do?’

Recently, as his viewer count increased, Jo Miwon had been worrying more and more about content.

His mukbang streams were still popular.

Viewers loved his reactions and hosting style, and donations kept coming.

But he knew something instinctively.

‘People eventually leave.’

Most viewers chase new stimulation and grow bored with things they become used to.

If he ignored that reality, his popularity would fade quickly.

Jo Miwon sighed deeply and opened a notebook stacked on the corner of his desk.

Inside were notes he had written whenever he thought of ideas for his streams.

He tapped his pen against the page while scanning the dense handwriting.

Should they make tteokbokki?

Maybe just sit and talk?

Or do a mukbang together?

Even if Kang Chan simply appeared, the stream would probably be entertaining.

But since he was going to do it anyway, he wanted content that would clearly show Kang Chan’s cooking skill.

Yet no matter how much he thought about it, no satisfying idea came to mind.

After holding his head in frustration for a while, Jo Miwon eventually turned on his stream.