Yokai Come to the Countryside Café

Chapter 42: Return Gift (2)

“How much does a car like this cost?”

“Please don’t touch it. You’ll scratch it.”

Despite Choi-Pro’s scolding, the foreman kept running his hands all over the luxury sedan that Yongman had arrived in.

“So you’re saying the coin you bought hit the jackpot, and that’s how this happened?”

“Yeah.”

‘Was it too much? Should’ve just said I won the lottery instead?’

Though he answered according to what Jinseong had advised, Yongman still nervously observed the two men’s reactions.

But his worries were unfounded.

“This guy’s crazy! You know Kang from electric works, right? That guy lost a perfectly good job playing with coins and now he’s doing manual labor!”

“Oh, not just Kang. Even the guy who was supervising one-rooms last year got hit hard by crypto.”

There were plenty of stories around them of people who had made decent money off the sudden surge in cryptocurrency. Of course, among the folks who came to work on construction sites, how many didn’t have their own stories?

“If you keep splurging just because you hit it big, you’re gonna crash hard too! Use it sparingly. So, are you saying you’re not gonna work anymore? Just gonna spend money now?”

“In times like this, you shouldn’t quit working entirely. Gotta do it once in a while at least.”

“Why keep breaking your back with labor jobs? You should open a barbecue place or something, get called ‘boss’. Right?”

“I’m going back to my hometown.”

“Hometown? Where’s that?”

“Mongolia.”

“Mon-go-lia?”

That was the second scenario Jinseong had given him.

But this time, no matter how he thought about it, it was a stretch. Did he really look Mongolian to anyone?

‘Damn it, I got swept up by that guy’s talk. Even I thought Mongolia was ridiculous!’

“No, I mean, just the nationality…”

“See, Foreman, wasn’t I right? He’s not Korean! Look at that tanned skin and how strong he is—his features totally fit the type!”

“Oh, I thought he was Mongolian the moment I saw his face.”

“Yep, yep. Our Foreman knows everything, doesn’t he?”

“Hey, my blood is Korean!”

The joy of reunion quickly passed, and as a native Divine Beast, Yongman shouted in frustration when his lineage was judged purely by his looks.

“Aigo, my ears hurt.”

“So you dropped by to say goodbye before heading to Mongolia?”

“That, and there’s a favor I want to ask.”

“A favor?”

“There’s someone I owe a lot to. That person’s building a house, and I want to introduce someone trustworthy.”

“Wow, our Yongman, who wouldn’t borrow a dime from anyone, says he owes someone? Who is it?”

“Someone. Busybody, thinks he’s all that.”

Thinking of Jinseong, Yongman smiled.

The things that had happened at Jinseong’s little café had become precious memories to Yongman.

“Well, you handle that with the Foreman. But don’t think about going home today. You went off the grid and made us all worry, so today we’re drinking, no matter what. Got it?”

“I can’t drink.”

“Bullshit! Don’t even start!”

The rough reunion of these tough men naturally led to a hearty drinking session.

Kimchi-making wrapped up smoothly.

Aside from the slightly tricky ingredients and ratios for the seasoning, it was a simple repetition of applying seasoning to the salted cabbage.

Of course, that’s easy to say, but in reality, it was backbreaking work.

If the elders at the market hadn’t measured out even a single bunch of scallions or a single pear precisely, it would’ve been an endless ordeal.

“Seriously, Korean moms are amazing. They do this every year?”

“Still, it’s fun!”

“Right? The cabbage turns bright red!”

“Fun, my back’s killing me. Aigo.”

“Thank you for helping.”

“Enough, you punk. You’re practically begging for praise.”

The participation of the two Divine Beasts in this kimchi-making was practically forced.

It was made with cabbage brought straight from the Heavenly Realm, after all.

Since no one knew what might happen during the “manufacturing” process, their supervision was necessary—and that naturally turned into a contribution of quality labor.

“Tsk. You could’ve just said no instead of dragging it all here.”

“You say that because you didn’t see Yongman’s face at the time.”

“Hmm, I guess life in the Heavenly Realm didn’t suit him at all.”

“Definitely a good thing I didn’t go!”

“You haven’t been there either, so what do you mean ‘good thing’?”

“I saw it in photos. It’s a place with no Tonkatsu.”

“There’s no Tonkatsu in the Heavenly Realm? Then what do the Heavenly Deities eat?”

“Hm, I dunno. Rice and Doenjang Stew? Maybe stuff like that?”

Honestly, I didn’t even know if they ate at all. The only god I ever talked to in the Heavenly Realm was the Mago Goddess.

–Pshhhhh.

Right on cue, there was the sound of steam escaping from the kitchen.

Using the stacked kimchi containers as support, I struggled to get up after squatting for so long.

“Time to eat.”

“We’re finally eating?!”

“Should be just about ready.”

“Hoooooo!”

“Is Boiled Pork that good?”

“It’s kinda like Jokbal.”

“Since Jinseong made it, it’ll be way better than Jokbal!”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

The dish you absolutely couldn’t skip with freshly made kimchi was Boiled Pork.

Not boiling pork while making kimchi was practically a sin. Especially in households that didn’t often make their own kimchi.

Plus, it was as easy to prepare as the kimchi itself.

Doenjang, coffee, green onions, onions, etc.—just throw in whatever seemed like it would taste good and boil it. Done.

Even someone with barely any cooking skills could manage to make it decently edible.

“I’m worried there might not be enough.”

“I made plenty.”

With four of us regularly eating together, portioning had become a naturally acquired skill.

And so, big chunks of Samgyeopsal were roughly sliced, piled onto a plate, and a grand spread was laid out.

“Hoooooo!”

“Looks delicious.”

“But it’s not enough.”

“There you go again, being greedy.”

“It’s not greed. When there’s that much kimchi, you need this muuuuch meat too!”

“That’ll all be handed out tomorrow.”

“Why would you give that away? It’s too precious.”

“Who else? To the Director, the monk-agents, and the company people. They all helped a lot.”

“Pfft, those guys are about to eat kimchi you couldn’t buy with a fortune.”

Exactly.

Isn’t this the perfect kimchi to fit the nickname ‘Gold Kimchi’—a joke people made when cabbage prices were high?

The efficacy of this kimchi, infused with Divine Power, had already been proven enough through the leafy greens.

Each portioned kimchi container came with a label for its recipient and a small wish that they would enjoy it.

The next day, the mansion of the Daecheon Group family was far more chaotic than usual.

An unexpected guest had suddenly shown up, both hands full of rustic kimchi containers that didn’t suit a chaebol household at all.

“You said this was kimchi?”

“Yes.”

“Heh heh.”

Chairman Joo Man-ho let out a laugh, clearly dumbfounded.

It wasn’t a gift given with the hope of a return present.

No, it hadn’t even been a gift in the first place. He had written directly on it that it was payment for tutoring.

After hearing late that he had only received one of the many items his son had carried, he had even worried that he might not get anything at all.

And now, the return gift he brought was just kimchi?

To make matters worse, the one who had delivered it was none other than the sole heir to the Daecheon Group.

The boy, who hardly ever came home after growing up, suddenly showed up holding a kimchi container.

‘Is this rude? Or polite?’

After receiving a gift worth tens of millions of won, the proper courtesy would be to visit his office and bow his head in person.

But Chairman Joo Man-ho’s expectations were thoroughly off.

No matter how he looked at the simple container, it only had a short note: “Thank you for before. This isn’t much, but it’s homemade kimchi.”

‘I really can’t make sense of this.’

“Oh, why are you making the boy stand in the entrance when it’s been so long since he came home? Let him in already.”

“When did I ever say he couldn’t come in?”

Only after his mother, who had been quietly waiting behind him, lost her patience and scolded, did Joo Dohyuk finally get to enter the house.

“You must be hungry, right? Should I make Boiled Pork to go with the kimchi? Ma’am, let’s prepare a meal.”

“Madam, we’ll do it. Please take the time to chat with your son.”

Even though she asked what he wanted to eat, in her eagerness she didn’t wait for his answer and headed to the kitchen. The staff of the Daecheon household tried to usher her out again.

“Still, my son is here. I should take care of him.”

“If you keep doing this, we feel guilty taking our salaries. We’ll have it ready in no time, please go on. Hurry.”

“Just let me do this one part.”

After some back and forth, the dining table was eventually filled with dishes she had made herself.

“Come on, eat up. You’ve lost so much weight from working outside. Aigo, how upsetting.”

“Ahem, work’s fine.”

“Yeah, well…”

–Clatter. Clink.

The awkward conversation ended with a brief update on how things had been.

For a while, the only sounds were the occasional clink of utensils.

“Why is that all the father and son have to talk about? He’s back after three months. So cold.”

“What else is there to say when a twenty-eight-year-old’s working at a company?”

“Do you have any close friends at work?”

To a mother, no matter how grown her son, he was still a child she had set loose into the world.

“There is. My seatmate, my supervisor.”

At the sort of question you’d ask a child in kindergarten, Joo Dohyuk paused, then replied quietly.

“Really? My son’s already made a friend at work?”

“Hah! Friend, my ass. He’s an expensive tutor. Same bastard who sent that kimchi, right?”

“Oh my, really? How could a working man make kimchi that tastes so good? You try it too, dear.”

“He’s good at cooking. After work, he runs a café on the side.”

“A hardworking friend. By the way, do you eat breakfast?”

That was the moment she took over the conversation.

Was he feeling sick? Was he skipping meals?

As soon as he took a bite of rice, a flood of questions poured out from his mother, full of concern for her grown son who now lived on his own.

It might have been annoying, but oddly, Joo Dohyuk didn’t reply with the short, blunt answers he gave his father. He actually added details and kept the conversation going.

It didn’t take long for both their rice bowls to be completely emptied.

“Let’s get up now.”

“Yes.”

Having finished his visit, Joo Dohyuk quickly gathered his things and headed to the front door, anxious not to hear any uncomfortable remarks from his father.

“I’ll come again.”

But his mother, who heard her indifferent son’s farewell, said nothing.

Because the farewell wasn’t received by the warm hand that had just been patting Joo Dohyuk’s reliable back, but by the memorial photo hanging on the living room wall.

(Take care of yourself. Don’t get sick. Okay? My beloved son.)

Receiving her son’s nonchalant goodbye, the mother gave him her final words with a warm smile.

As Dohyuk stepped outside, the hand that had patted his back turned transparent. Then her figure blurred and soon vanished like mist.

–Drip.

“Huh? What the? Did something get in my eye?”

Seated in the car, Dohyuk absentmindedly wiped away the tears that had started to fall and grabbed the steering wheel again.

That night, no one in the mansion realized that the lady of the Daecheon Group had passed away the year before.

The small wish Jinseong had made for the kimchi to be enjoyed had come true—as part of a precious, once-in-a-lifetime meal with family.