The Chef From the Apocalypse Enters the Food Industry - Chapter 115

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 115. As a Chef
I took a bite.
Crisp. The exterior was done. The fried coating wasn’t bad.
‘The outside is fine. The fried coating is decent too.’
So far, everything matched my expectations. Now came the critical part—the next layer. The interior was what mattered. This was a fried dish, after all. I needed the contrast of crispy outside and tender inside to shine through.
Especially with my flounder dish, the interior was even more crucial.
Unlike the original preparation, I’d packed the filling densely to create multiple layers.
‘I hope those layers came through.’
Please let it have worked.
Whether Oh Tae-sik or Jang On-gyu made it didn’t matter.
I just hoped the people eating my namesake dish would be satisfied.
It was in that moment, as I chewed through the interior, that it happened.
‘…What?’
My senses suddenly awakened with greater intensity.
* * *
Numbers appeared before my eyes.
Or rather, to be precise.
Information my tongue had detected converted into sensory data that flooded in.
[Flounder]
Fat content — 0.7% below standard
Days aged — Two days
Origin — South Coast farmed
‘Ah…’
South Coast farmed. That was good. Farmed flounder wasn’t necessarily inferior ingredient.
The problem lay with the other two factors.
‘The fat content is low.’
Truth be told, I could overlook a 0.7% difference. Yes, it registered, but it was acceptable.
The real issue was the aging.
‘One day short.’
If the aging fell one day short, the texture changed.
When you fried fish whose flesh hadn’t fully relaxed, the exterior crisped up, but moisture was heavily retained inside.
‘That manifests as a difference in mouthfeel.’
That was the source of the ‘something’s missing’ sensation everyone had felt earlier.
And there was more to the problem.
‘The frying oil was tampered with too, it seems.’
The refinement grade was one level lower. Either it hadn’t been properly maintained, or the oxidation level had subtly risen.
A bitter taste appeared on my tongue tip 0.1 seconds too late.
It meant the oil hadn’t been changed frequently enough.
‘That temperature being 3 degrees higher earlier might’ve been because of this.’
Oxidized oil lost viscosity.
When viscosity drops, heat transfer accelerates, and at the same temperature, the surface chars faster.
I didn’t raise the temperature to compensate for that.
They probably just weren’t paying attention.
‘The sauce is the real problem.’
The mixing ratios were nearly correct.
But sugar had been substituted in place of the plum extract.
The sweetness was similar, yet the aftertaste was entirely different.
The plum extract’s distinctive tartness was completely absent.
That single omission was stripping away an entire layer of depth from the sauce.
‘Even if you’re going to use a substitute, you can’t do it like this.’
They were cutting costs.
* * *
I went further from there.
My breakthrough in taste perception—reading flavor at the molecular level—made it possible.
‘This is exactly how this sense was meant to be used.’
Reading the differences in taste was finished.
But I didn’t stop there.
Simultaneously, numbers began overlaying my vision.
The cost. The direct-from-source unit price of this flounder became visible to me.
South Coast farmed flounder
Two-day aged: 14,000~15,000 won (per kg)
Three-day aged: 16,000~17,000 won (per kg)
I’ll grant that what I used in the competition was premium grade.
What typical restaurants use is seventeen thousand won per kilogram.
‘What went into this was fifteen thousand won. So that’s… how it was?’
The itemized list written on the outside of that document envelope came back to me.
There was definitely a raw material unit cost section.
I hadn’t examined it closely, but the flounder price listed in that document couldn’t possibly be fifteen thousand won. They would have marked it higher.
Perhaps.
‘Twenty-three thousand won. Or even twenty-four thousand won.’
The source price for three-day aged premium grade, plus distribution margins.
When what actually went in was two-day aged at fifteen thousand won.
The documents would definitely have recorded it at the top-tier market rate for three-day aged. Without question.
An eight-thousand-won difference per kilogram.
That’s significant.
‘I’m confident I could assert this even without seeing it.’
The frying oil was the same story.
What goes into this line now is standard soybean oil. That’s why the quality suffers.
For reference, the distribution cost is around twenty-eight hundred won per liter.
‘But the documents probably list it at thirty-seven hundred won—the premium refined oil rate.’
A difference of nine hundred won per liter.
The volume of oil this line processes in a single day is staggering.
Considering that, this difference was far from negligible.
‘The packaging materials—I don’t need to be an expert to see the issue.’
This wasn’t something I tasted. I saw it with my own eyes.
The packaging materials I glimpsed while passing through the Packaging Line earlier.
They claimed it was eco-friendly, but the material was standard PP. There’s definitely a price difference here too. I know this without ever visiting a factory.
‘Marked up under the guise of eco-friendly, but actually just standard packaging.’
Considering the daily production runs into thousands of units, this difference compounds significantly.
I tallied the numbers in my head.
Raw materials. Processing costs. Packaging. Labor.
Based on market unit prices I’m familiar with—calculating just what I already know roughly.
‘1.5 times? No.’
Perhaps even more.
The gap between the documented cost and the actual cost wouldn’t stop at 1.5 times.
Add in filming setup fees and repositioning costs, and the margin widens further.
“Hmm….”
I closed my mouth without chewing further.
* * *
Three cameras were rolling.
Their lenses captured this entire space.
I paused. Steadied my breath.
‘If I reveal what I’ve just discovered here.’
What would PD Ga do?
He’d made something clear to me.
-I’ll only show it.
That he would show it.
Cutting a leech requires multiple strikes.
One cut isn’t enough, so he’d show it multiple times.
Though I’d demonstrate directly only once.
After that, the viewers would naturally step in and slice it two, three more times themselves.
I decided to set the stage, trusting the viewers to read between the lines.
So casually rattling off the cost breakdown here would be the wrong move.
It wouldn’t even survive editing.
Above all, I needed to lay the groundwork so the truth would be crystal clear.
‘So what I need to do is simple.’
Ask the questions.
As if I knew nothing.
* * *
Everyone was waiting for me to open my mouth.
That’s understandable. After all, I’m the one who created this dish originally.
When we commercialized it, the taste wasn’t exactly satisfying, was it?
How I choose to speak about it has to be my primary concern.
“This flounder.”
I opened my mouth.
Naturally. As if sharing impressions after a tasting.
“It’s direct from the source, right?”
The Factory Manager nodded and answered.
“That’s correct. We brought South Coast farmed flounder. Aged for three days according to the recipe you provided.”
“South Coast farmed flounder aged for three days should run between 16,000 and 17,000 won per kilogram, shouldn’t it?”
I rattled off the numbers. Based on market rates.
The Factory Manager’s face stiffened slightly.
“Yes, well…. That’s roughly the range, yes.”
His words said yes. But his eyes wavered.
23,000 won written on the documents versus the 17,000 won I’d just mentioned.
“I see.”
This man knew that gap too.
“But this is two-day aged, isn’t it?”
I added one more comment. The manager’s expression shifted subtly.
“Two-day aged should be around 14,000 to 15,000 won per kilogram at market rates, right? Or does the factory get a bigger discount? Did I misunderstand?”
“Hmm….”
I wasn’t wrong.
It’s not unusual for a chef to distinguish ingredient aging days by taste. Especially for a competition champion.
But having that fact come out in front of the camera was another matter entirely.
The factory official seemed about to stop me for a moment.
But I opened my mouth immediately.
“And this frying oil.”
I went one step further.
“It’s regular soybean oil, right? Around 2,800 won per liter. Isn’t it?”
“…!!!”
I cited another number.
This time, the oil market rate.
The manager’s mouth closed.
He didn’t answer.
The camera captured that silence.
“Oh, it’s nothing else—I’m just curious as a chef, you know. Haha.”
“…”
“Was this something I shouldn’t be curious about?”
The camera was still rolling.
There was no room for lies here.
The air grew heavy.
That’s when Jang Han-su stepped in and countered.
“Hold on. Are those numbers correct?”
It wasn’t an MC’s tone. This was a broadcaster’s instinct cutting through—he’d spotted the narrative angle and seized it. Not to obstruct me, but to create momentum for the show.
“From what I know, the market price for flounder runs around 16,000 won per kilogram?”
“Right?”
“That’s what the recent news reported too.”
“Exactly. It’s gone up to about that.”
Jang Han-su had been broadcasting for a long time.
Any MC worth their salt checks food-related news as standard.
The number he knew matched mine perfectly.
“But there were documents earlier, weren’t there? What did they say the amount was? I didn’t get a good look at those.”
“Oh, I didn’t see them either. Ha ha. I was too busy hosting.”
“That’s…”
“The Factory Manager would know best, right? If you could share that with us, we’d appreciate it. This is a donation, after all—let’s make sure everything checks out perfectly!”
….
The manager’s mouth remained shut.
Jang Han-su looked at me. I looked back.
Our eyes met, but neither of us spoke.
There was no need to.
The situation said everything.
Oh Tae-sik stood behind the line.
Out of the camera’s frame.
I caught a glimpse of his face. His teeth were clenched tight.
‘Good. The game’s afoot.’
* * *
“Wow.”
Lee Sae-rom spoke first.
“Come on, what does checking documents now matter? Surely they wouldn’t have inflated the costs or anything, right?”
“Right. They wouldn’t do that.”
“Exactly. This is a variety show. If we keep going like this, it’ll turn into a documentary. A documentary. Wouldn’t it?”
“Right? Probably? It wouldn’t, right?”
A fastball. Lee Sae-rom was someone who didn’t know how to dodge.
Even in front of the camera, that tone came through unchanged.
Sonny zoomed in with the camera.
She alternated between my expression and the manager’s.
Im Ha-yun’s expression changed for the first time.
Her eyes widened.
The woman who’d kept silent and absorbed everything throughout the entire tour.
Those eyes were fixed on me.
Jang Han-su spoke.
“But let’s set aside these heavy topics for now.”
I’d laid out the entire board.
From this point on, viewers would have no choice but to sense that something was amiss just by watching.
No, they definitely would.
It would probably be quite entertaining too.
‘Quite a few people will step forward wanting to investigate the cost price.’
Investigating cost price.
It’s trendy these days.
So, should I drag this out here?
If I did, Oh Tae-sik would jump in immediately. He was already poised to do so, but I needed to flip the board again.
Quick as a flash.
Jang On-gyu immediately changed the subject.
“Kim Seon-woo. But you can figure all that out from just one bite?”
A Chef from the Apocalypse Enters the Food Industry
Author |
Heunghaeng
Publisher |
Samyang C&C Co., Ltd.
Editor-in-Chief |
Editorial Department
Published by |
Samyang C&C Co., Ltd. – Dream Books
Address |
7th Floor, Gwangseong Building, 28 Bongeunsa-ro 114-gil, Gangnam-gu, Seoul
UCI |
G720:N+A063-20260206001
Blog |
blog.naver.com/dreambookss
Twitter(X) |
@dreambookss
Submissions |
[email protected]
The contents of this book may not be used in any form or by any means without written permission from Samyang C&C Co., Ltd. – Dream Books.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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