Archmage's Restaurant - Chapter 89: A Week in Korea (8)

As Rurin puffed out her cheeks, she tried to mess up her hair. Startled, I grabbed her arm.

“Let go. If you don’t like it, I’ll undo it.”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Yeah, your hair is beautiful.”

There was a problem. I suddenly had this irrational feeling that I wanted to keep brushing Rurin’s hair. I didn’t even know why this strange thought popped into my head.

After mentally slapping myself, I gently patted Rurin’s head.

“Is that so? I knew it. As long as it’s pretty, that’s all that matters. Hehe.”

Rurin nodded with satisfaction at my words. Looking at her innocent face, I felt a little guilty for having such odd thoughts just moments before.

Shaking off those brief, strange emotions, I headed out with Rurin.

We made our way to a *tteokbokki* shop. Since yesterday, I had planned to eat *tteokbokki* today.

Following *jjajangmyeon* and *cheonggukjang*, today’s meal would be Korea’s beloved street food: *tteokbokki*. I found a humble *bunsik* (snack) shop nestled in a small alley. The scene felt nostalgic.

I used to come to places like this all the time when I was in elementary school. If I didn’t have enough pocket money, I’d settle for a small cup of *tteokbokki* and be perfectly content. A few pieces of *tteokbokki* in a paper cup were all it took to make me happy back then.

“What are we eating today?”

Rurin looked up at me with curiosity.

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

I gave her a playful smile and led her inside the snack shop. Since lunchtime had already passed, the place was empty. School wasn’t out yet either, so it wasn’t peak time.

Snack shops like this usually get crowded once school lets out.

“What would you like to order?”

“One serving of *tteokbokki*, a set of fried foods, an egg, *sundae* (blood sausage), and *odeng* (fish cake), please.”

“Alright, just a moment.”

The lady nodded and left to prepare the food. At that moment, Rurin leaned forward with a perplexed expression.

“What on earth did you just say? I couldn’t understand a single word.”

“Huh?”

“What are *tteokbokki*? *Fried set*? *Egg*? *Sundae*? *Odeng*? What do these words mean?”

“Oh, that…”

Even though Rurin can understand Korean perfectly, it seems her translation magic struggles with concepts that don’t exist in her world.

Since a few days ago, whenever her translation fails, she gets frustrated. She demands I stop saying things she can’t understand.

“What kind of dragon can’t translate?”

“It’s strange. I am the mighty dragon! How could I not know?”

“Yeah, I wonder.”

“I don’t like your tone. I’ll teach you a lesson! This is infuriating!”

“Pfft.”

Her frown and outburst of irritation were so funny that I couldn’t help but laugh. She immediately stood up, glaring at me.

“Why are you laughing! Argh!”

“Your food is ready. Did you order this?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you.”

Right on time, the food arrived. Perfect timing.

The red *tteokbokki* was steaming hot, the fried foods looked crispy, and the *sundae* was plump and tender.

The *odeng* soup wasn’t much different from the clam soups I often made at my restaurant, but there was something special about the flavor of snack shop *odeng* broth.

“Heyyyyyy!”

“Wait, wait. Calm down, you fool. Here, let me explain. This is *tteokbokki*, this is the fried food set, this is an egg, this is *sundae*, and this is *odeng*.”

“Those were dish names?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are the names so strange? No wonder someone as great as me couldn’t figure it out. Your country should reflect on that.”

“What’s there to reflect on? Don’t say nonsense, just eat.”

“Your country should apologize! But hey, I know this! That’s *Palenque* eggs!”

Rurin was in the middle of demanding an apology from Korea when she suddenly recognized an ingredient and turned her attention to it.

“Yeah, it’s the same thing.”

Thankfully, her confused expression eased. As a dragon, I wish she wouldn’t make faces like a scared puppy when encountering unfamiliar food. Yesterday, it was the smell that scared her, and today it’s the appearance.

“Alright, try the *tteokbokki*. This is how you eat it.”

I picked up a fork and skewered a soft piece of *tteokbokki*. It wasn’t something I had deliberately sought out, but it turned out to be the type of *tteokbokki* I liked, the kind with extra broth.

The sauce was red, but the *tteokbokki* itself was less so—a perfect balance. I took a bite.

Yes, it had that sweet, salty, and slightly spicy flavor.

Luckily, it wasn’t too spicy. Rurin could handle it.

*Tteokbokki* should have a perfect harmony between its chewy texture and the sweet and salty flavors. Too much of one overwhelms the balance, in my opinion. But that’s just personal preference.

Anyway, this snack shop I stumbled upon turned out to be quite tasty.

It had that schoolyard taste, with a high flour content in the rice cakes. Honestly, I like this kind of *tteokbokki* because it reminded me of the kind I often ate after school.

“But why is this so red? Is it going to be like that *buldak* (fire chicken) thing again, more annoying than a Red Dragon’s breath? I don’t like that. I’ll just eat…”

Rurin’s face showed clear signs of remembering the traumatic experience with the fiery *buldak noodles* and avoiding the red color. She reached for the egg, something she was familiar with.

Of course, Rurin isn’t picky. She’s an omnivorous dragon who eats everything, even the pungent *cheonggukjang*—though she initially hesitated.

But the only thing she couldn’t conquer was the spiciness of the *buldak*. When I first made her try it, she almost burned everything with her breath in a fit of rage.

I took a piece of *tteokbokki* and offered it to her.

“Ahhh!”

Immediately, her face showed intense conflict. Rurin loves being fed with “Ah!” moments. Because I don’t do it often, it’s become a rare and valuable act.

She struggled with *cheonggukjang* as well. You shouldn’t use special moves like this too frequently, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Why do I feel suspicious? You’ve been doing too many ‘Ah!’s lately.”

Despite her words, she opened her mouth. It was a primal instinct. Her brain was resisting, but her body acted on its own.

I quickly slipped the *tteokbokki* into her mouth.

She winced, her face contorting in fear, but soon began chewing.

Once again, this is Rurin—an existence that fears nothing. She’s a dragon, after all. And yet, she was terrified of *buldak noodles*. But this wasn’t spicy.

Of course, she soon realized that and her expression rapidly brightened.

“Oh! This is delicious. More! More! Ahhh!”

She opened her mouth again, but I gave her a look that said, “Don’t push it.” The special move was over. I had already used it two days in a row, and it was losing its charm.

“Eat it yourself. No more ‘Ah!’.”

“You just did it! That’s so unfair! I’m protesting! I demand improvement!”

“Let’s just eat.”

I ignored her complaints and took a bite of *tteokbokki* myself. As the pile of *tteokbokki* shrank, Rurin abandoned her protest and began spearing the pieces with her fork.

“Wait, wait. There’s more. You can’t just eat the *tteokbokki*. That’d be a shame.”

I set the *tteokbokki* aside for a moment and grabbed a piece of fried dumpling with my fork. It was one of those classic, flat snack shop dumplings. The kind you dip in the *tteokbokki* sauce for the perfect taste.

I tore the dumpling in half, dipped it into the *tteokbokki* sauce, and ate it. Then, I picked up a piece of *tteokbokki*.

Ah, the storm of flavors. The crisp, slightly under-filled dumpling paired perfectly with the *tteokbokki* sauce. If the filling were too much, it might not have worked as well.

Not just dumplings—anything fried from a snack shop becomes unbeatable when mixed with *tteokbokki* sauce.

“Ohhh, this is good!”

Rurin followed my lead and ate some fried food. She nodded in approval, her fork immediately going back for more.

We shared the fried foods: crispy *gimmari* (seaweed-wrapped noodles), vegetable fritters, alternating between bites of *tteokbokki* and fried goodness.

Rurin’s lips were smeared with *tteokbokki* sauce from how intensely she was eating. I’d have to wipe her mouth later.

“Wait, wait. There’s one more thing.”

I pointed to the *sundae*. Rurin’s eyes lit up with delight, marveling at how much food there was.

“This one’s delicious as is, with its chewy pork intestine and the glass noodles inside. But if you don’t like the smell, dipping it in the *tteokbokki* sauce makes it even better.”

“Ohhh, got it.”

“Good, right?”

She nodded enthusiastically. With a satisfied expression, she alternated between eating the *sundae* plain and dipping it into the sauce. The fork in her hand orchestrated a feast of flavors.

When there wasn’t much *tteokbokki* left, I added the egg. That’s just my personal preference.

A lot of people don’t like it this way.

But if I don’t finish *tteokbokki* with an egg, it doesn’t feel complete.

I cut the egg in half, scooped out the yolk, and drenched it in the *tteokbokki* sauce. Then I stabbed it with my fork.

Once the yolk was fully soaked in the sauce, I ate it with a piece of *tteokbokki*. It’s like eating an entirely different dish—a new flavor profile.

“Hey! The *tteokbokki* is all gone!”

Rurin banged her fork on the now-empty *tteokbokki* plate, clearly upset. Of all the dishes, it seemed *tteokbokki* was her favorite.

I, too, felt like it wasn’t enough, so I ordered another round. As I did, I grabbed a napkin and started wiping the sauce from Rurin’s face.

***

After our hefty *tteokbokki* lunch, we stepped out onto the street. Since it was a weekday afternoon, the streets weren’t too crowded.

Compared to the weekend crowds, it was pretty sparse.

Rurin clung to my hand, her curiosity piqued by all the traces of civilization she was seeing for the first time. She peppered me with questions, soaking it all in.

As we walked, I stopped in front of a claw machine shop.

It wasn’t her curiosity but mine that led me here.

Claw machine shops like this weren’t uncommon. Whenever I walked through busy streets, I would see one or two here and there. Of course, these existed 15 years ago, when I was still living in this world, but things had changed since then.

With time to spare, I decided to indulge my curiosity and went inside.

The claw machines had evolved a lot since the ones I knew 15 years ago. Back then, you’d mostly find small toys inside, and you had to look down at the prizes. Nowadays, the prizes were bigger, the claws were bigger, and it felt like a whole new world.

As technology advanced, so did claw machines. The place felt like an arcade, but all it had were claw machines—there were no staff members, nothing. It was entirely self-service.

The machines were filled with plush toys, including characters from cartoons I used to watch when I was a kid.

It was amazing to see that *Poket-O* (a cartoon character) was still popular after all this time. Thinking about how, while I was fighting battles in the other world, this world was still obsessed with *Poket-O*, gave me mixed feelings.

Most of the claw machines were filled with these *Poket-O* monsters.

In the end, they’re just monsters too.

Of course, these monsters are much cuter than the life-threatening ones I fought in the other world.

“Hmm, let’s see.”

My hands were itching. I was a master monster hunter in the other world, so these kinds of monsters should be a breeze. Plus, as a kid, I used to be a claw machine master.

I fed some money into the exchange machine. Rurin showed no interest in the plush toys. Understandable, considering she’s a dragon who likes to manipulate real, terrifying monsters.

She even treats the *lurun* (a monster from the northern lands) we brought back as a pet.

Who could stop a dragon from treating monsters as pets? When she talks to the *luruns*, she always ends her sentences with “run!” which I find both amusing and endearing.