The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen

A Restaurant Named ‘Youlam’ (2)

***

In front of a restaurant in Hamel, where people were lined up in a long queue.

Three suspicious-looking individuals were sitting on a bench, waiting for their turn.

A man in a brown coat.

A man dressed as a butler.

And then—

“Gimme that back!!”

A woman, arguing with a child, added to the unusual atmosphere. Despite their odd appearance, they were patiently waiting for their turn.

Clearing his throat, Ricardo looked at the man holding a paper ticket labeled ’12’ and spoke.

“Boss.”

“I’m analyzing right now, so don’t talk to me.”

Despite Malik’s firm rejection, Ricardo continued to ask his question. There was something more important than analysis—embarrassment. Bracing himself for a scolding, Ricardo asked Malik.

“Why are you wearing that weird mustache?”

“…Oh, the mustache, you mean.”

Malik, excited that his disguise had been noticed, smiled lightly and answered.

“It’s called camouflage.”

“That?”

“Yes.”

Malik, dressed in a brown coat, sunglasses, and a fake mustache, looked suspicious enough to be dragged away by the passing guards.

“You look way too suspicious.”

“…”

“It’s not like we’re industrial spies. It’s really strange.”

Malik took off his sunglasses and asked, genuinely curious.

“Is it really that strange?”

“Yes.”

“Even the mustache?”

“The mustache makes it worse.”

“…The staff said it was flawless and liked it.”

“They can’t exactly tell the boss it’s bad, can they?”

“…”

As his carefully prepared disguise turned out to be a failure, Malik regretfully peeled off the clumsy mustache stuck to his face.

“Is it really that strange?”

Still unwilling to let go, Malik hesitated, holding the half-peeled mustache in his hand. Ricardo nodded firmly.

“Yes.”

Malik was disappointed.

The line was long.

It would take about 40 minutes for their turn to come, given the number of people waiting.

‘There are a lot of people.’

Though not as long as the line at the Friends of Forest, it was still a considerable wait time, which didn’t quite fit with Hamel’s fast-paced lifestyle. Ricardo, puzzled, asked Malik.

“There are quite a lot of people here.”

“Indeed.”

“How long did you say since it opened?”

“Two weeks. It opened while you were on your trip to the North.”

“Two weeks?”

Ricardo looked up at the restaurant.

[Restaurant: Youlam]

The sign was nothing special, and the interior was quite ordinary. There weren’t many staff members either. The table turnover rate wasn’t particularly fast.

It wasn’t spacious.

There weren’t any distinctive menu items either, so why were there so many people? Even if they were benefiting from the initial opening buzz, the number of customers seemed excessive.

Ricardo, still puzzled, asked Malik.

“There are too many people. The initial rush of customers from the opening should be dying down by now.”

“Exactly.”

Malik nodded, watching the customers enter through the door.

“That’s why I suggested we come here. I was curious why a place with nothing special would have so many customers.”

“Is it affecting our profits?”

“No, the customer base is different, so there’s no loss. I just thought there might be something to learn. I’ve always relied on capital, so I don’t really know the grassroots level.”

“Hmm…”

Ricardo shrugged as he looked at the menu through the glass window.

‘Too ordinary.’

If they had copied the tteokbokki recipe from the Friends of Forest in the capital, it would make sense. But the food served here was as plain as could be.

Salads, risottos.

Steak and bread were about all they had, so there was no reason for people to be so excited about it.

Ricardo sighed softly, still unable to solve the mystery, and looked down at the young lady eating chocolate.

“Miss.”

“Yes?”

“Where did you get that chocolate?”

The young lady pointed to a crying child on the street with her finger and answered.

“I took it from him.”

“Oh…”

“I asked for it, and he gave it to me.”

“Isn’t that robbery?”

The young lady smiled brightly and said confidently.

“It’s a skill.”

“It certainly is a talent.”

Ricardo nodded, praising the young lady for teaching the child a lesson about the order of society. If you spoil a child too much, they might end up like someone who sets off an ‘air raid alarm’ every morning.

“Ricardo, you’re cursing me in your head, aren’t you?”

“…How did you know?”

“Your eyes say it all.”

“Sharp as ever.”

Ricardo stuffed a piece of chocolate into the young lady’s mouth to shut her up. There was no winning a verbal battle with her. As a diligent butler, he did his duty by silencing her.

“Mmm…”

With the sweetness in her mouth, the young lady smiled and nodded. Ricardo waited for her mood to improve before carefully asking another question.

“Miss,”

“Yes?”

“Do you think this restaurant will be good?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does the smell suggest it’ll be good, or not?”

The young lady frowned and looked at Ricardo.

“Ricardo.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not a dog.”

She had a point.

Time continued to pass.

The customers ahead of them entered, and new people joined the line behind them.

Enough time had passed for Ricardo to give the crying child a piece of chocolate, and finally, their long wait was over.

-12th customer!

It was time to work as industrial spies.

-Clink.

“…”

“…”

“…”

-Clink.

The sound of cutlery scraping plates echoed at the table. Without a word, they cut into the meat on their plates, awkward smiles on their faces as they tried to satisfy their hunger.

How to describe it?

It was good, but… just average.

It was the kind of taste that left something to be desired for a restaurant claiming to be a hotspot.

Ricardo, finding the food just a little better than the nearby restaurants, awkwardly smiled as he cleaned his plate.

“Grrr…”

The young lady, sitting at what she called ‘Ferry No. 1,’ furiously sawed at her steak, trying to suppress her anger.

“It’s not cooked enough…”

“It’s like it’s still mooing.”

“Boss…”

Clang.

The young lady slammed her fork onto the table, glaring at the busy staff, her lips twitching with frustration.

“Grrr…”

Ricardo quickly covered her mouth with a smile.

“Please, calm down, Miss.”

“I can’t! I asked for it well-done, and they served me a live cow!”

“It seems there was a mistake with the order. I’ll ask them to cook it again. Let’s let it go this time.”

“Grrrrr!”

The young lady’s expression was murderous.

When it came to meat, she became endlessly sensitive. She huffed and puffed, barely holding back her anger.

With a serious expression, she stared at the kitchen and came to a reasonable conclusion.

“They’re definitely trying to assassinate me.”

Holding a knife in her hand, her eyes burned with fury. Ricardo calmly tried to soothe her and looked down at the food on his plate.

‘Tasteless.’

To be honest, it wasn’t good.

Maybe it was because they were used to eating the best, or maybe their tastes had become more refined, but it wasn’t worth waiting for.

Malik felt the same.

Having finished his plate, Malik wiped his lips with a handkerchief and nodded.

“Strange.”

“…”

“It’s not particularly good, nor is it bad.”

“Exactly.”

“Right. The portions are large, but the prices aren’t exceptionally cheap either.”

Malik let out a hollow laugh and muttered.

“It’s neither the taste nor the price… Interesting.”

As someone obsessed with the restaurant business, Malik smiled with interest as he tasted the sauce on his plate and nodded.

“Ricardo.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know why this restaurant is so popular?”

Ricardo hesitated before answering. Honestly, he didn’t know. With cooking skills like this, he felt he could open a restaurant and succeed as well, so he couldn’t find a proper answer.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I think I could make something better, so I can’t say for sure.”

“Hmm.”

Malik held up three fingers and looked at Ricardo.

“I’ve seen three cases where a restaurant with bad food succeeded.”

First.

“A restaurant with extensive connections.”

Second.

“A restaurant opened by a celebrity.”

And lastly, the third.

Malik looked seriously at the kitchen and spoke.

“A restaurant with a beautiful owner.”

“Pardon?”

“I think this restaurant falls into the third category.”

Malik placed his handkerchief on the table and discreetly raised his hand to call a staff member.

And then—

“Ah?!”

He snatched the plate from the young lady and pointed to the undercooked steak.

The young lady, looking as if her world had collapsed, clenched her fists as she watched her steak being taken away. But Malik ignored her and spoke to the staff member who had approached.

“The steak is undercooked.”

“Oh! I’m terribly sorry. I’ll have it replaced right away!”

Malik waved his hand firmly at the flustered staff member and said.

“No, I’d like to see the owner.”

“Excuse me?”

“As a fellow restaurateur, I can’t let this slide.”

Malik handed a tip to the staff member and spoke.

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything bad.”

About five minutes passed.

A woman brought a newly cooked steak and approached Malik, bowing her head in apology.

“I apologize for the inconvenience. It seems our staff made a mistake with the order… If there’s anything else you’d like, we’ll make it on the house.”

Malik looked at the woman and asked.

“…Are you the owner?”

The woman removed her mask and swept her hair back, nodding.

“Yes, I am the owner.”

She looked familiar.

There was a strange sense of familiarity, as if he had seen her somewhere before. Despite her age, her beauty hadn’t faded, and Ricardo felt a sense of curiosity.

‘Who is she?’

Ricardo racked his brain, watching the owner converse with Malik.

It wasn’t long before the young lady’s muttering beside him provided the answer to the familiarity.

“Michail…”

Michail.

Ricardo instinctively knew.

This woman was Michail’s mother.

Though her name hadn’t been explicitly mentioned in the novel, Ricardo, knowing the story and its conclusion, could tell.

The woman standing before them was the protagonist of a tragic reunion.

End of Chapter