Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Restaurant Opening

Business partner. In other words, a person always ready to stab you in the back.

I don't believe in the word partnership. Around the time I started making a decent name for myself as a Korean cuisine chef in my previous life, people coming to propose partnerships came by the truckload every day.

But they didn't know. The fact that I have a superpower that can read people's emotions.

So I didn't do partnerships? As if. There was no reason to refuse people bringing capital. It's just that when it came to backstabbing, I was first. Hahaha.

The preparation is just one thing. A noose that can legally bind them. In modern law, there's a charge called breach of trust. With sufficient evidence collected, it's a charge that can impose strong sanctions like deprivation of management rights.

But this is uncivilized early 20th-century modern society Britain. A country where the law works more favorably for the rich than the poor.

To stab someone in the back, you needed a bigger backer. So I decided to diligently help Mr. Henry's work for now until I obtained a sufficient backer.

Thanks to modern knowledge, the work of this era was easy. Even a simple spreadsheet that an office worker uses ordinarily was innovation to them.

"Hahaha, I had an eye for people! As expected, young Jean, you're really a genius! Hahaha!"

"Well, it's nothing much. I just did as Mr. Henry taught me."

"It's lamentable that one of you is better than the salary thieves sitting here! If it weren't restaurant work, I'd want to seat you in this position right away!"

It was something Mr. Henry said while rejoicing after I caught more than 10 errors on the spot when he was racking his brain over organizing the accounting books.

Anyway, until the restaurant construction was completed, I decided to go to work at the Barclays Bank Lombard Street office in London in the mornings and learn work from Mr. Henry. The Chicken and Chips business was left to my parents and Emily. As long as I periodically prepared the ingredients, frying and selling was simple.

On the contrary, whenever Dad worked as a plumber he earned even more revenue, so the parents were very happy. With part of that revenue we sufficiently prepared Mom's medicine costs, and thanks to that her health seems to have improved a lot lately.

But I couldn't be satisfied there. As long as you don't escape a life of working one day to eat one day, you can't become a true rich person. The truth that capital must earn money was something I already realized in my previous life.

"Here's the blueprint, is it possible to manufacture it like this?"

"Hmm... It's equipment I've never seen before. I'll try once."

"You must make it. No matter how much the cost is!"

"Then, please give me at least three days. I'll manage somehow. Hey, Charles! Call all the craftsmen!"

In the afternoons I flexed hard with Mr. Henry's money. I went around London woodshops and ironworks, handed over the blueprints and sketches I drew, and ordered them to manufacture them as is. All of this was essential work to minimize the hardship at the restaurant.

Cast iron pans, a large frying pot, a big knife and cutting board for preparing chicken, a mixer, various modern kitchen utensils, and above all the important ventilation fan! Especially the electric exhaust fan that had just been developed was the part I paid the most attention to. The oil vapor that comes out when frying is fatal to lung health.

In London already filled with smog, if you smell oil every day on top of that, your lungs get ruined.

"Mr. Jean, is equipment to remove air in the kitchen absolutely necessary? Just opening the windows for natural ventilation seems more economical, and this exhaust fan will cost quite a bit in maintenance too."

"No, this is essential. Please install it without fail. And this hood part must also be attached exactly according to my design."

There was no need to scientifically explain one by one that they didn't know the danger of oil vapor. I pushed strongly, and Mr. Henry eventually cut a check for this too.

The power of money was indeed great. The chicken restaurant I thought would take three or four months was completed in two months. Moreover, the complicated administrative procedures also passed safely just by mentioning Mr. Henry's name.

It turned out Mr. Henry's father was a Conservative Party politician. So I decided to postpone the backstabbing for the time being.

###

Debussy, Arabesques.

A light piano melody filled the elegant hall.

Culina Divina. A high-end restaurant said to have been established by Henry Curzon, the second son of George Nathaniel Curzon, currently serving as Viceroy of India.

A splendid place that reflected all the latest trends of London high society, with various statues praising the Roman and Greek eras, chandeliers reflecting light, and firmly finished marble floors.

Here in 1901, numerous celebrities representing British London gathered.

Henry Curzon was one of the few figures holding the purse strings of London. There was no one who could ignore the social party invitation he sent.

George Bernard Shaw was also one of the invited figures.

Henry Curzon, to think that a famous gentry I didn't even have the slightest acquaintance with would send an invitation. I was just an ordinary playwright whose name was only slightly known from one or two representative works.

Moreover, lately a slump had overlapped and I couldn't properly write a single line, so I couldn't know even more the reason I was invited.

But soon that question was resolved. Because a familiar face approached from afar and held out a hand.

"Mr. Wells! How are you here..."

"Haha, Mr. Shaw! I knew you'd come. How are your impressions of the visit? Isn't it a very unique interior?"

"Yes. It's a place that gives tremendous inspiration. I'm not sure if it's okay for me to be in a place like this."

"Of course it's fine! The one who sent the invitation to Mr. Shaw was me! When Mr. Henry asked me to recommend a companion, of course Mr. Shaw came to mind! So don't decline and let's comfortably enjoy the atmosphere together."

H.G. Wells. He was 10 years younger than me, but already a famous writer who had achieved great success. If he had a connection with Henry Curzon, it was fully understandable. Works like 'The Time Machine' and 'The War of the Worlds', honestly they were fun enough that the difference in talent was felt.

The first time I met Wells was a few years ago, at a reading discussion meeting I happened to participate in. I learned then that our tastes in literature and theater were similar. After that we often met at coffee houses and discussed while building acquaintance, but I never imagined being invited to such a precious place.

"By the way... What kind of restaurant is this place? Looking at the interior, it doesn't seem to be a place used only as a social venue."

"Well, do you know the recently popular 'Chicken and Chips'?"

"Chicken and Chips? Ah, I've eaten it a few times..."

There's one food that's popular in London recently. It's a dish called Chicken and Chips. A menu that simply puts french fries on Irish-style fried chicken and sells it. Shaw had also, out of curiosity, paid the expensive price of 3 pence and bought and eaten it at a stall near his house.

The impression wasn't good. There was some unpleasant smell from the fried chicken, and the french fries were undercooked and hard to eat. To the point where he couldn't understand why this was popular at all. Shaw thought familiar fish and chips was much better.

At the fact that that ordinary dish was being handled at such a refined restaurant, Shaw felt disappointment welling up in his chest.

"Haha, to be disappointed before even eating the food. Please look forward to it. You'll definitely be surprised."

"Hearing you say that... It seems you've already eaten here?"

"No, not yet, but my pupil is staying near Baker Street so I was lucky enough to taste the main store's cooking."

"Baker Street? Main store? Baker Street means that place that appears in the Holmes series?"

"That's right. 221B Baker Street of the great detective Mr. Holmes was the most famous. But now Chicken and Chips has become more famous. To the point where if you say you'll go to Baker Street by carriage, they'll ask if you're going there. However, since it's sold in limited quantities, it's as hard as picking stars from the sky to get."

"Isn't it just a simple dish? Is it that famous?"

"Haha, you must have eaten it somewhere else. Chicken and Chips other than what's sold on Baker Street is all a scam. The taste is completely different!"

Wells ranted without even taking a breath. Shaw was swept up in that heat and had no choice but to nod in agreement inadvertently. But the question remaining in one corner of his heart didn't easily disappear. Then when the full course cooking started, that question vanished in an instant.

Forks and knives fly madly in the sky!

Chomp chomp.

"T-to think such a taste exists!"

"Uhehe, this is the true taste! Hahahat!"

The chicken that came out with the sweet sauce said to be handled only at this restaurant called 'seasoning' couldn't even be compared to the 3 pence Irish fried chicken he had eaten before. Shaw had never eaten such delicious fried chicken in his life.

Moreover, these french fries! Even though they were thinly julienned, how can they be this crispy?! With a subtle spreading spiciness and deep flavor, that taste was surprise itself.

"Onion? Garlic? What on earth is the identity of this powder?!"

"I don't know either, munch munch, you'll have to ask the chef directly, haha. He'll definitely say it's a secret."

The plate was emptied in an instant. That was the same for other tables. The satisfying sighs heard from all around were enough to overwhelm the piano sound.

But the cooking wasn't the last. For dessert, something like a flat pie appeared.

"What on earth is this?"

"Well, it's a dish I'm seeing for the first time too."

Even asking the waiter, the answer came back that he didn't know. Then someone from another table gave an explanation.

"If it's not rude, I'll explain instead. That's a food called 'gamjajeon'."

"Gamjajeon? It's a name I'm hearing for the first time... Anyway, thank you. I'm H.G. Wells."

"You were a famous writer. I'm William Crookes. Please call me Sir. A trivial scientist, but I was granted a knighthood."

"It's an honor to meet you, Sir Crookes."

###

Crazy, crazy.

The restaurant newly opened holding hands with Mr. Henry. On the first day of opening alone, it earned a whopping 10,000 points.

This was an achievement I hadn't accomplished even in my previous life.