Cheat day

Walking(4)

“Hey, even if Baek Woo-jin is like that, don’t you know how I feel by now?”

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

I couldn’t care less if Cha Ji-chan was sulking.

It’s been three minutes.

As I peeled back the lid of the cup ramen, steam wafted up, revealing the elegant appearance of the fried udon.

While the dried squid tempura is a delicacy, the true value of fried udon lies in its rich broth and the pepper that follows.

“Ah, ah.”

As I picked up the perfectly cooked noodles, blew on them, and took a big bite, memories of my student days came rushing back.

Back then, I would sit side by side with my classmates in a convenience store, having fried udon for a meal before heading to the academy.

“Ah, why do they want to see me eating ramen? Just listen to the sounds.”

Baek Woo-jin said to the viewers.

I was mostly trying to ignore the chat, but this guy was expressing how difficult it was while still showing his face.

That kind of attitude is definitely something to learn from.

I took out my smartphone to check the chat, and there were quite a few people saying they wanted ramen.

└So, Jin Ramen is the spicy flavor.

└Opposing Jin Sun’s hate.

└It’s not hate; it’s the truth.

└I liked Jin Sun’s soy sauce flavor, but it got spicy, so I’m disappointed.

└Jin Mae is the right one.

└But is Jin Sun getting persecuted? I heard they had record sales last year.

└Rather than suffering from spicy pride, Jin Sun is better.

“…”

I don’t understand why these guys come into someone else’s room to debate Jin Sun vs. Jin Mae.

Since I wasn’t talking, they were happily going back and forth amongst themselves.

What’s bothering me more is the viewer count.

It was about 23,000, but it has increased by around 1,000 in the meantime.

“I really don’t get it. Everyone, why are you here?”

I understand that people who originally planned to join the “Walk to the Sky” event are promoting our broadcast, but I genuinely can’t comprehend it.

My broadcast usually has a wide variation in viewership—around 3,000 when it’s low and exceeding 10,000 when it’s high.

Even on special days like the Baekban Debate, this many people have never tuned in.

It’s understandable that having 200 people promote the broadcast would have an effect, but I’m purely curious about what’s so entertaining about a show where we’re just walking and not saying much.

└Why are you even here? LOL

└You shouldn’t be saying that!

└Since it’s a debate, the host should step back a bit.

└I’m not keeping it on because it’s fun; I just need something to play in the background, and since it’s quiet, I’m not turning it off.

└There’s just enough noise.

└I think it’s interesting. When I look over while working, I’m like, “Where is this?”

└It’s been raining so often lately that I haven’t been going out much, so I think it’s made me feel a bit down. It’s a substitute for that.

└I want to support you.

└I’ve written ten times not to eat ramen.

└I watch because I want to see the uncle struggling, but why is he walking so well?

└This is really perfect white noise. It’s neither boring nor too loud, making it optimal as a background sound while working.

└The kids are cute.

└Hearing the kids’ laughter somehow makes me feel good.

“Oh.”

That’s surprising.

In fact, even before the banchan (side dish) store grew, there were reactions like doing laundry, washing dishes, and playing games while listening.

It seems many people consider the sounds of rain, wind, passing cars, and occasional conversations for 8–10 hours to be a pleasant distraction.

Even now, the chat is relatively slow compared to the viewer count, so everyone is probably listening while doing something else.

With the rain making people hesitant to go out, it might be comforting for those staying home. Others might be playing it to fill the time while feeling like they’re wasting it or wanting to enjoy the Jin Sun vs. Jin Mae debate among themselves.

Some people said they put it on to show support, while others enjoyed the sound of the kids they met at the orphanage and still others said not to eat ramen.

“Ramen is fine. I checked my blood sugar in the morning and afternoon, and it was normal. I think it’s because I walked a lot. I’ll eat this, and I’ll have to walk for another four hours anyway, so you don’t need to worry.”

I took another bite of the fried udon.

After the Baekban Debate, I’ve been focusing on compressed fun, but honestly, with just me and Mukunji’s creative ideas, there’s a limit to what we can do, and I had been wondering if I should recruit one more person.

However, realizing that there’s a demand for this kind of broadcast, I thought it might be okay to proceed in a way that feels like I’m taking a break one or two days a week.

If that happens, the planning burden will lessen, allowing me to put more effort into editing YouTube videos.

Editing is also my biggest strength.

Right now, I’m just checking in, and the channel is run by Mukunji and four freelance editors.

If I can get more involved, it will be easier to adjust things in the direction I want compared to now.

“Slurp.”

After gulping down the broth, I feel unsatisfied in my mouth and stomach. Instant noodles are great, but the downside is they disappear after just two bites.

“Should I eat something more?”

When I turn my head, Joo Ji-seung, Cha Ji-chan, and Baek Woo-jin are all staring at me intently.

“What? Why?”

“I forgot that this guy can finish jajangmyeon in 30 seconds.”

“What kind of magic is that?”

“Try this too.”

Joo Ji-seung, Cha Ji-chan, and Baek Woo-jin say one after the other.

Baek Woo-jin pushes his remaining sa-ri-gom-tang (instant noodle soup) towards me, encouraging me to try it again.

“Ah, enough. I’m really hungry. I need to eat something more.”

“Right? We’ve walked for five hours, so one ramen isn’t enough, is it?”

We all get up together.

I head straight for the lunchbox section, but it seems like most of the options are gone, and there aren’t many left.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a convenience store lunchbox, and I’m not sure what’s good, so I pick the last remaining “Richam Set.”

It costs 4,600 won, and while the sides are quite diverse, I’m a bit worried since it’s mainly processed meats.

“Isn’t it salty? Is it healthy?”

That’s a pretty tempting tagline for a lunchbox advertisement.

Checking the ingredients list, I see it contains 1,254 mg of sodium and only 7 g of sugars, so it seems fine for me to eat.

I wonder what the others are eating, so I look over, and I see Cha Ji-chan is staring at a pack of chicken breast.

“That’s disgusting. Really disgusting.”

“All these little choices add up to that body, you know. Are you managing your diet? What about protein?”

“It has about 25 g in it.”

I show him the nutritional information from the lunchbox, and Cha Ji-chan raises his chin.

I remember that a pack of chicken breast typically contains about 20–25 g of protein.

“You already had ramen. If you eat rice too, you’ll be overloading on carbs.”

“That’s actually good. They say you need carbohydrates for energy.”

Anyway, I’ll have to walk for over four hours again later.

We place our selected items on the display shelf: Joo Ji-seung picked chocolate cream bread and white milk, Baek Woo-jin chose a chocolate old-fashioned donut and Melona (ice cream).

Cha Ji-chan looks at it with curiosity and asks Baek Woo-jin, “Is that good?”

“The donut?”

“Yes.”

“Of course it’s good.”

Cha Ji-chan licked his gums with his tongue and picked up a chocolate old-fashioned donut from the counter opposite the register, placing it on the checkout.

“You said you were going to manage your diet?”

“I don’t know. I’m starving.”

It seems that Cha Ji-chan found marching for two consecutive days difficult as well.

After paying, I opened the lunchbox lid and heated it in the microwave for two minutes.

Inside were stir-fried sausage and vegetables, two pieces of grilled Richam (processed meat), stir-fried kimchi, something unidentifiable, kimbap, fried dumplings, and two jeon (Korean pancakes).

I took a big bite of the Richam and immediately followed it with some rice, but the taste was nothing like I had expected.

“It’s really not salty at all.”

The ham in this kind of lunchbox was completely unsalted, which was a bit disappointing. I was hoping for a decadent flavor, but it tasted too healthy.

Putting that disappointment aside, I popped a seasoned kimbap into my mouth, and that was finally satisfying.

The sausage was delicious, and the stir-fried kimchi was good too.

“This is the taste.”

“Is it okay?”

Joo Ji-seung asked.

“It said in the advertisement that it wasn’t salty, and it really isn’t at all. It feels a bit strange since it’s healthy-tasting ham, but everything else is good.”

“This is tough. Remember when we sold lunchboxes? A lot of people asked for more meat side dishes.”

“There were also people who said it was too healthy.”

Baek Woo-jin chimed in while eating his donut.

“Right? I also feel a bit disappointed because it’s not stimulating enough.”

When I was making and selling lunchboxes, I thought it was good for them to be healthy, but now that I’m in the consumer’s position, I find it a bit unsatisfying.

“I’m in trouble. It’s a dilemma.”

Joo Ji-seung downed his white milk.

“What’s up? Were you really thinking about it seriously?”

Baek Woo-jin asked Joo Ji-seung.

He had wanted to challenge the food business while running the Baek Seung-yong lunchbox shop, so it seems he still has various concerns.

“Of course. I want to try making healthy lunchboxes like we did, but it’s not easy. You know the saying: if it’s salty, people will say it’s salty; if it’s sweet, they’ll say it’s sweet; if it’s spicy, they’ll say it’s spicy, but if it’s bland, they won’t come.”

I nodded in agreement.

“I also stopped going to bland places before I got diabetes.

Since everyone has different standards, I think people in the food industry must have a lot of concerns.

“When you go to a place that serves soup, they usually set salt or pepper on the table, right? They let you adjust the seasoning yourself. Can’t it be resolved like that?”

At my words, Baek Woo-jin brightened up.

“True. In cold noodle places, you can add vinegar or mustard yourself.”

“Hmm. That feels different from what I’m aiming for. Ah, this is a dilemma.”

We all briefly lifted our heads to ponder, but soon returned to focusing on eating.

The first impression of the grilled Richam was ambiguous, but after the second bite, I found that I was somewhat accustomed to the bland flavor, and it wasn’t bad.

However, the mysterious topping on the stir-fried kimchi, which turned out to be a mixture of tuna and onions, was definitely not good.

“This is delicious,” Joo Ji-seung exclaimed.

The Yonsei milk bread had gained popularity in the past, and I had wanted to try it, but I forgot about it after developing diabetes.

“How good is it?”

“Should I give you some?”

“No. I still don’t have the courage for that.”

I had walked a lot and still had to walk more, but it was scary to eat bread filled with cream like that.

I once made the mistake of eating bread and ended up going overboard.

“Why have you been quiet since earlier?”

At Baek Woo-jin’s words, I turned my head to see Cha Ji-chan frozen with both hands holding the donut.

He was holding a half-eaten donut, and upon closer inspection, he had wide eyes and was shaking.

“Hyung.”

When Baek Woo-jin poked Cha Ji-chan, he slowly turned his head to look at us. Then he shifted his gaze back to the donut and raised his head again.

“Why is this so delicious?”