Chapter 9

“What kind of broadcast?”

“You know, these days, people really like mukbangs.”

“Mukbang? What’s that?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. A show where someone eats food in front of the camera.”

Jo Miwon blinked, looking completely puzzled.

“People actually watch that? Why would anyone want to see someone else eat? I’d rather just eat myself.”

I used to think the same thing.

But now, I understood. The reason people liked watching mukbangs was simple.

Vicarious satisfaction.

When someone eats deliciously, others naturally start craving it too. It’s instinct.

How many people have given up on their diets after watching food on TV?

There were even cases where people discovered restaurants through those shows and went there themselves.

I thought for a moment, then asked him a question.

“What would you feel if you were hungry and saw someone else eating?”

“I’d want to eat too, obviously.”

“But what if you couldn’t? You’d still feel satisfied watching someone else eat, right?”

He tilted his head, then suddenly clapped his hands.

“Oh, like when you see grilled fish and suddenly want rice?”

“Exactly. And I think you’ve got talent for it.”

“Me?”

“Look at that. How many servings of meat have you eaten already?”

I pointed at the table stacked high with empty plates like a tower.

Miwon looked embarrassed, scratching the back of his head.

“Don’t worry. I’m paying. Consider it a treat for finishing your service.”

“At least you’ve got a conscience. Anyway, people love watching someone who can eat like you. That’s a huge asset if you do mukbang.”

“Well, if it’s eating, I’ve got no problem with that.”

Even as he said that, he stuffed three pieces of meat into his mouth at once.

I watched him silently and said,

“Just try it once.”

There was a reason I was pushing him.

That one idea I had earlier could make him successful if he went for it.

But Miwon just snorted.

“Come on, do you really think I can pull that off? Don’t joke around.”

“Still, give it a shot.”

He laughed again but stopped when he noticed how serious my face was. He shrugged.

“Fine, maybe I’ll try when I’ve got time.”

* * *

After parting ways with Miwon, I walked home with light steps. The night air felt unusually cool.

Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

The caller ID said Gaeul.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Kang Chan, are you still drinking? Where are you?”

“I’m on my way home.”

“Perfect. Call me when you’re almost there. I want to see you for a bit.”

I pulled my phone away from my ear and checked the time. It was already past ten.

It was late, and I worried she might catch the smell of alcohol and grilled meat on me.

“Now? Isn’t it too late?”

“If you don’t come, you’ll regret it.”

Her playful tone made me smile, and before I knew it, I was walking faster.

When I arrived at the apartment and texted her, she appeared a moment later.

Her long hair swayed under the streetlight, and she wore a thin long-sleeved shirt and comfy sweatpants.

Even like that, she looked beautiful.

Spotting me, she walked over lightly.

I tilted my head.

“What’s going on? It’s late.”

“I have something to show you.”

“What is it?”

She took out her phone and handed it to me.

“Here.”

On the screen was a video I recognized. It was the one we had filmed of the honey butter chips.

It was neatly edited, with captions explaining each important step.

The flow was clean, and even though it was short, it captured the entire process perfectly.

It was so her. Gaeul had always loved not just filming but editing too.

“When did you edit this?”

“Didn’t take long. I was bored, and the footage came out well, so I put it together. I thought others might find it useful. You know how I like doing this kind of thing.”

She smiled shyly, and I stared at the video in awe.

“Wow, it’s so polished. You call this a quick edit? It looks professional.”

“Oh, stop.”

“I mean it. It’s really well made.”

Her face brightened, and she asked excitedly,

“Then can I post it on your account?”

“My account? Why not post it on yours?”

“Because I only filmed it. You’re the one who cooked. It should go up under your name.”

“Do whatever you like. Just wondering, do you even know my password?”

“Obviously.”

She gave me a mischievous grin.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but she looked even prettier than usual. Even her soft voice sounded sweet.

She glanced at the video again, her eyes sparkling.

“What if you go viral after this?”

“Come on, that’s not happening.”

I chuckled.

There was a time I used to believe I was someone special.

People around me always praised me, saying I was gifted.

Some even called me a prodigy.

Hearing that over and over made me start believing it.

That I was exceptional. That I was destined to stand above everyone else.

But I had been wrong.

One by one, the people around me left.

I had been too arrogant to realize why.

Yet Gaeul had stayed, always trying to reach me.

‘You’re going to lose the people who matter most.’

‘Can’t you stop for a moment and look around?’

She had told me those words many times, worried for me.

But back then, I didn’t listen. I brushed her off, thinking she was overreacting.

Only now do I see it clearly.

I wasn’t as great as I thought.

No amount of fancy titles could hide my flaws.

World-class chef, Michelin 3-star, culinary genius.

Those labels meant nothing.

Neglectful husband. Immature son. Self-centered man.

Maybe those fit me better.

Gaeul looked at me with confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m just… nothing special.”

She shook her head firmly.

“Not to me.”

“Huh?”

“To me, you’re special.”

Her steady eyes sparkled like stars in the night sky.

For a moment, the world fell silent.

Under the streetlight, she looked the same as always, yet somehow more vivid, more radiant.

How could anyone not fall for her?

I stayed quiet, and she tilted her head.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I just like hearing that, I guess.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“What? Are you drunk?”

“Maybe.”

She turned away quickly, her ears turning red.

“I’m going home. You reek of alcohol, and now I’m starting to feel drunk too.”

She muttered under her breath and began walking ahead.

I watched her for a moment, smiling softly, then followed.

“Wait for me.”

* * *

By lunchtime, the snack shop was buzzing with customers.

People filled the tables, and I moved quickly to help my parents.

Just then, the door swung open.

“Hey, Kang Chan! Why’d you tell me to come when you’re so busy?”

Through his round glasses, Miwon shot me an annoyed look before spotting my parents. His face instantly brightened.

“Oh, Mother, Father! Long time no see. Do you remember me? I went to high school with Chan.”

My mother squinted at him for a moment, then clapped her hands in recognition.

“Oh my, Miwon! It’s been ages. Honey, you remember him, right?”

“Of course. He was glued to Chan all through high school. Good to see you again.”

“Ah, you two still have great memories.”

Grinning, Miwon gave a thumbs-up and looked around the busy shop.

“Wow, business is booming. The place is packed.”

“Yeah. Actually, since we’re short-handed, you can help.”

“What? Wait, hold on…”

He started backing away, inch by inch, until he reached the door.

But before he could escape, our eyes met.

“I suddenly remembered something important. Sorry!”

He turned to run, but I dashed forward and caught him by the collar.

“Where do you think you’re going? Help me out, and I’ll give you something good.”

“Something good? Like what?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“You think that’s enough to convince me? Do you know how busy I am?”

Still grumbling, he put on an apron.

I stared at him, dumbfounded, while he said with mock seriousness,

“So, what do you need me to do first?”

I smirked and pointed at the water dispenser.

“Fill that up.”

“Yes, sir. Orders acknowledged.”

He muttered under his breath but followed instructions diligently.

“One rose tteokbokki, please!”

“Got it. Would you like a drink? Adding cheese makes it even better!”

“Then add cheese too!”

“Thank you. It’ll be right out!”

His upbeat voice and exaggerated energy made the customers laugh.

He took orders, cleaned tables, refilled water, all with quiet efficiency.

Thanks to his help, we managed to get through the lunchtime rush without a hitch.

When things finally quieted down, I served him a generous plate of rose tteokbokki.

“Here. You earned it.”

He looked at the plate, then at me with a tired face.

“So this ‘something good’ you mentioned is tteokbokki?”

“You like food, don’t you? If you don’t want it, I’ll take it back.”

As I pretended to move the plate, he quickly reached out to stop me.

“Hey, that’s low. Who takes back food after offering it?”

“Relax. I was kidding. The real reward’s something else.”

“What is it?”

His face lit up with curiosity. I smiled.

“If I tell you now, it won’t be fun. Finish eating first, then I’ll tell you.”