Hayoon’s words furrowed Sihoo’s brow. Word of mouth?
It was a form of viral marketing, derived from “virus,” meaning infectious or spreading. In the past, it was, “I went to this great place, you should try it!” Now, it’s posting photos on social media, certifying a spot as a must-visit.
Hoo. Sihoo worried. A double-edged sword. That’s how he saw viral marketing.
“Thinking about it, Kanghoon hyung’s amazing,” Sihoo said. “Never advertised once.”
Hayoon shrugged. “Right? No ads, but fresh ingredients, fair prices, great plating, and taste pulled customers in.”
Glancing at his watch, Hayoon stood. “Gotta go, hyung.”
“Okay,” Sihoo replied, seeing him off. In the courtyard, he gazed at the sky. Anxiety crept in—the diner’s full responsibility would soon be his alone.
Hands full, Sihoo arrived at 56804, setting ingredients on the kitchen table. Clunk. Mostly field-grown vegetables and high-quality meat from a butcher Kanghoon recommended.
Hoo.
“You’re here? What’s all that?” Kanghoon appeared.
Sihoo smiled faintly. “I finalized a Korean spread menu yesterday.”
“Nice.”
“Want to try it, hyung? I’d love your feedback.”
Sihoo began prepping, using his field ingredients alongside the diner’s stock. Kanghoon’s eyes softened. He’s faster than before.
Sihoo’s cooking was swift, almost effortless. Kanghoon watched his movements briefly before stepping out to the dining area.
Bubble, sizzle, fry. After boiling, grilling, and frying, Sihoo plated the food in small lacquered bowls and dishes, arranging them neatly on a large tray. “Hyung, can you serve this?” he called to Hayoon.
“Sure.” Hayoon lifted the tray, feeling its weight—like five plates of pasta plus three soup bowls. Heavy.
He set it on Kanghoon’s table in the dining area. Thud.
Kanghoon’s eyes lit up. “Wow.”
“Sihoo, come out!” he called.
“Coming!” Sihoo replied, quickly tidying the kitchen, wiping his hands, and stepping out.
Kanghoon and Hayoon were snapping photos with their phones. “This looks too good to eat,” Kanghoon said.
Hayoon nodded. “It’s even better than what I saw at Sihoo’s place yesterday.”
“You went to his house?” Kanghoon asked.
“Yeah, he asked me to taste his Korean menu,” Hayoon replied.
Kanghoon picked up a porridge spoon, tasting the jook. Closing his eyes, he thought, This guy’s flavor game is unreal.
Noticing the lacquered bowls, he mused, Improved bangjja for lighter weight?
Savoring each dish, he set down his spoon, eyes deep with thought. “Sihoo, how much you charging for this?”
Sihoo hesitated, staring at the tray. Kanghoon pressed, “This takes a lot of work. Korean food is labor-intensive.”
Korean cuisine demands care, with significant effort per dish. It’s why high-end restaurants charge a premium. Calculating costs—ingredients, labor, overhead—Kanghoon spoke. “Charge 50,000 won for this spread.”
“50,000 won?” Sihoo’s eyes widened.
Kanghoon chuckled. “What, too cheap?”
“No, too expensive!”
“Expensive? With ingredient and labor costs, it’s a steal.”
Sihoo wanted to say most ingredients came from the field, costing little, but held back.
“Even at 50,000 won, people will buy it. What about other menus?” Kanghoon asked.
Sihoo shared his plan. “Main dishes popular with female college students, this Korean spread, and a daily ‘today’s special.’”
Kanghoon rubbed his chin, thinking. Tick, tock. The analog clock’s second hand echoed loudly.
“Sounds good. For interior, what’s your plan?”
Sihoo scanned the diner. Known as a hot spot since his high school internship, 56804 only needed minor updates. “Just change the wallpaper and tables. The kitchen’s fine.”
“Alright. Close for three days starting tomorrow for renovations,” Kanghoon said, pulling a yellow envelope from under the counter. “Read and sign this.”
Sihoo skimmed the document, then looked at Kanghoon. “Hyung, these numbers seem wrong.”
No premium, low deposit, and rent far below market value. Shocked, Sihoo stared.
Kanghoon shrugged. “I’m leaving suddenly, so I cut you a deal. Plus, your Korean menu will sell well, and you’ve boosted our revenue.”
Sihoo’s head tilted. “Lowering rent means…”
Kanghoon grinned. “This building? I own it.”
Sihoo’s eyes widened. He recalled his first meal here two years ago—a Napolitan for 5,000 won. Current menu prices made him nod instinctively.
Reading Sihoo’s expression, Kanghoon said, “I didn’t know ingredient costs back then, but I didn’t want to raise prices. As a Korea Uni alum, I wanted this place affordable for students.”
Sihoo understood—Kanghoon considered students’ budgets.
“But hyung, if that’s your logic, 50,000 won for a Korean spread is too much,” Sihoo said.
Kanghoon spoke calmly. “It’s pricey, but once someone tries your food, they’ll keep coming back. I guarantee it.”
Sihoo still felt 50,000 won was steep. “Hyung, students don’t spend 50,000 won on food. That’s one or two textbooks. We hesitate even for those.”
Kanghoon recalled his own student days, grumbling over textbook prices. “True, I shook at book costs too. But food’s different.”
“No, hyung, it’s the same. Campus meals are 4,000–6,000 won. A 50,000-won spread? They won’t bite.”
Kanghoon’s eyes narrowed. He thinks his own food’s too expensive and wants to charge less?
Chuckling, he asked, “How much you want to charge?”
“25,000 won,” Sihoo said.
“Half price?”
“Yeah. At that, I’d sell at least ten spreads a day.”
Sihoo eyed Kanghoon, who seemed to weigh costs, making him nervous.
“Sihoo, that’s admirable,” Kanghoon said. “You’ve thought it through.”
Sihoo met his gaze, smiling softly.
“But you’re missing something,” Kanghoon added.
“What?”
“This diner’s yours now. If that’s your price, go for it.”
Sihoo felt like he’d been hit in the back of the head. My diner. Signing the contract, his anxiety eased. “Thank you for everything, hyung.”
Crunch, crunch. At dawn, Sihoo descended to the field, harvesting ingredients. Months passed, and not a single ant appeared. Crops regrew after picking, neatly organized. Someone’s tending this place…
Sihoo planted salad greens from seed, which grew astonishingly fast—sown one day, harvestable the next. Great for salad supply, but…
Scanning the field, he saw only animal tracks, no human footprints. In the distance, mountains loomed. I’d need a ride to explore that far. An electric bike, maybe?
He headed to the aralia tree, picking just enough shoots, then gathered fruit from nearby trees. His large basket brimmed with aralia, fruits, and field crops.
Hoo. Checking his surroundings, Sihoo returned to the basement, then glanced at his phone. Time to go.
Ugh. Shouldering the basket, he headed to the kitchen, sorting ingredients on the table. He packed them neatly into a box, secured it on a handcart, and tied it down. “Prep’s done. Time to clean the diner and store these.”
He wheeled the cart to the courtyard, ready to head out.
Thud, thud. Sweep, whoosh. Sihoo and Hayoon cleaned the diner post-renovation. Students passing by asked, “When’s it reopening?”
“Tomorrow!” Sihoo replied.
He and Hayoon exchanged glances, shaking their heads. The crowd showed how popular Kanghoon’s 56804 had been.
“Hyung, think the Korean menu will sell?” Sihoo asked.
Sunlight streamed in, illuminating 56804’s interior. Squinting, Sihoo clenched his fists, staring at the light. Hayoon’s reply came softly.