Chapter 77
Chapter 77. Chicken is the Future (3)
In modern Korea, there is what one might call an opening buzz.
It refers to the phenomenon where, after opening a restaurant, sales explode dramatically for anywhere from a few months at the longest, to at least a month at the shortest.
During this period, self-employed business owners become intoxicated by the extreme high of thinking, 'Am I perhaps a god of business?'
They might splurge on a foreign car they'd had their eye on, or show off to people around them that they're making good money and treat everyone to a big meal.
However, there is a fact that must not be overlooked.
The opening buzz does not last forever.
It is a temporary phenomenon that occurs as consumer curiosity draws in the area's potential customers.
No matter how high the satisfaction level, there is a gap before the next return visit; and if satisfaction is low, they do not come back, and sales nosedive in an instant.
And yet.
Even this brief opening buzz is a distant dream in Britannia.
This is because the food and beverage industry in Britannia is remarkably devoid of any opening buzz.
Consumer curiosity toward a new restaurant?
Practically nonexistent.
Anticipation toward new food?
Food is nothing but a means to sustain life and kill one's hunger.
The virtue of a wise and sensible Britannian is to set aside any expectation of food.
Since there is no concept of a 'good restaurant' to begin with, there is no culture of recommending restaurants or food either.
The only structure that exists is one where restaurants that have operated for a long time, having built up trust, gradually secure customers and continue their business.
Therefore……
"Your waiting number is 272."
"We're a group of 16 customers, and we still have to wait? You're saying it's already full inside?"
"One more order of Seasoned Chicken over here! Oh, and Cola too!"
"Heh heh, it was delicious even when I ate just one piece, but having it laid out on a whole table brings me to tears……"
"Ho ho, what a wonderfully extraordinary taste. The wait was worth it."
"The plain Fried Chicken is incredible too! How can fried food be like this?"
The fact that a mere fried chicken shop had people pouring in until the establishment was bursting at the seams on its very first day of opening was something that could be called unprecedented and unrepeatable in Britannia's history.
"This has gone far beyond my predictions. I thought the first day would at least be relatively quiet."
Belheim, who had stopped by CCC Store No. 1 to celebrate the opening, couldn't hide his bewildered expression.
The fact that it was packed from the 1st floor all the way to the 3rd floor wasn't enough — the waiting line was snaking out of the building in a long tail……
"What kind of magic did you perform this time?"
"Nothing much, really."
Jurgen, who had been going back and forth between the kitchen and the floor to lead the staff directly since it was opening day, shrugged his shoulders.
Truth be told, this strategy had been drawn from a childhood memory.
The chicken handed out piece by piece in front of school on the way home.
During prime growing years, clutching a hungry stomach and waiting in line for over 30 minutes before finally getting it in hand.
The memory of just how blissful that taste was is still vividly etched in his mind.
He'd gone home and pestered his parents until he finally got them to order a whole chicken.
These days it has faded into the background of history with rising labor costs and changing marketing formulas, but was there any marketing method as primal as this?
And so he replicated it.
"Have you heard this before? The hunger of adults heading home after work is greater than that of growing children."
"……I've never heard that in my life."
Those who performed hard physical labor.
At the clocking-out time of sailors, porters, adventurers, and laborers, chicken is distributed piece by piece.
A total of 5 tasting stands were placed at End of the Galley and on the tavern street.
The preparations required for this were three things.
Given the circumstances, there was no way to fry the chicken outdoors.
The chicken had to be fried in the shop and delivered to the tasting stands, and this process was handled by the best driver, Serena.
If the chicken transported this way got cold and lost its taste, it would defeat the whole purpose.
A heated showcase was prepared so that even the last person in line could receive chicken that was as warm as possible.
This was prepared by Renoir Workshop.
With the added effort of the CCC staff who would apply sauce to the hot, fresh chicken and hand it out……
People who had tantalizingly eaten just one piece of chicken came rushing to the shop like a cloud.
"Even so, I never imagined it would be to this extent. It's a result beyond imagination."
"Well, managing things well from here on out is just as important, isn't it?"
People have a tendency to flock even more to places where people are flocking.
There's a reason the neologism 'hot place' even came about, isn't there?
No matter how Britannians lack the concept of a 'good restaurant' and have no great interest in gastronomy, when a pull of this magnitude is generated, people naturally end up standing in line.
And Jurgen doesn't think this came from nothing.
The curiosity about and preference for 'taste' that had been steadily built up, starting with Cola.
Isn't this perhaps finally bearing fruit?
"By the way……"
While Jurgen was quietly feeling proud of himself, Belheim leaned his upper body in and whispered softly.
"I heard you traveled together with Lady Rosemore this time."
Jurgen paused.
At a glance, it sounds like nothing more than a casual greeting asking whether the vacation went well.
However, the reason Belheim cooperates with Jurgen is different from Keystone's.
He is under the mistaken impression that Jurgen approached Penelope in order to claim the Rosemore inheritance.
In other words, the question of whether they had traveled together……
Depending on how one interpreted it, it could sound rather unsavory.
"……Serena was with us as well."
"Ah, I heard as much. I was told a difficult situation arose for Serena during the trip."
"Had you been in contact with Penelope?"
"Yes, we exchanged calls at the Airship Dock. At the time I was also on vacation with my fiancée, and I had no proper connections in Soltera, so I wasn't able to be of help……. After that, I only heard that Serena had returned safely, without hearing any of the details."
Belheim stroked his chin in the good-natured manner of someone at a loss.
As if to suggest he could guess how his words had been misconstrued.
It seems there had been a slight misunderstanding.
"Serena turned out to have far more skills than I'd expected. She made her own escape with some inspired driving."
"Hahaha."
Belheim laughed out loud.
Then, looking at Jurgen, he abruptly stopped laughing.
"……That wasn't a joke?"
"I still have trouble believing it myself."
"That's quite remarkable."
Regardless, he couldn't keep giving his attention only to Belheim.
The later it got, the higher Penelope's anger gauge would be rising while she gave orders to staff in the kitchen alone.
"At any rate, thank you for coming."
"Of course I had to stop by."
"You haven't tried our Seasoned Chicken yet, have you? Since you've come all this way, take some chicken home with you."
"Shall I? I'm not one for dining in a hectic atmosphere."
Jurgen packed up some Seasoned Chicken for Belheim.
For packaging, a bucket made of paper was used, with the CCC's signature crown prettily embossed on the outside.
"Please give my regards to your fiancée as well."
"Yes, I will."
Belheim returned to the sedan where his driver was waiting and closed the door.
Thud
The driver said nothing and began driving toward the upscale townhouse complex 'Avenly Hill.'
The high-class sedan, suited for official use as well, climbed the hill smoothly.
While listening to the quiet engine and arriving at the private residence.
"……"
Belheim, seated in the back, said nothing and tapped the window frame with his fingertips.
Tap tap.
"We've arrived, Branch Manager."
Belheim, who had had his eyes closed, opened them only after the driver had come around to open the door.
"Good work. You're dismissed for the day."
"Shall I bring the food that Representative Jurgen gifted you to the house?"
The driver picked up the Seasoned Chicken that had been placed on the passenger seat and tried to follow after Belheim.
"Throw it away."
"Pardon?"
Leaving the bewildered and flustered driver behind him, Belheim went inside the mansion.
—Thud
The door closed with a heavy sound.
In the garden, only the sedan and the driver — who had unexpectedly come into a windfall — remained.
***
Three days since the first opening.
CCC was still drawing in a bustling crowd.
On the third day of business it had achieved the remarkable feat of filling every table from opening to closing.
Factoring in takeout orders as well, the amount sold was easily more than double.
Baron Keystone was calling excitedly every single day.
"You worked hard today as well, Penelope."
"I never imagined I'd end up doing this kind of work……"
Penelope, who at their first meeting had seemed like nothing more than a prickly young lady, turned out to be a woman of remarkable, multifaceted talent.
She had hotel management experience, had learned business and finance from her family, possessed excellent taste, and could perform Alchemy to some degree as well.
By her own account, she claimed she could also do horse riding, shooting, hunting, swimming, and piano.
Looking back, it was a bit unsteady, but she had done some driving too.
It made one wonder whether this was the level required to be a noble young lady of a distinguished family in Britannia.
In any case.
Penelope, drawing on that kaleidoscope of abilities, had taken on the role of temporary CCC manager.
One might think, what need is there for a manager at a mere chicken shop — but the staff hired this time were all first-timers to begin with.
A shop run by novices was thriving, with customers numbering in the four digits flooding in daily.
Someone had to play the role of the head.
How to handle customer service, when to clear tables, how to process stacked orders, how to sequence cooking — and so on.
Having created the CCC operations manual by referencing hotel manuals, Penelope had taken on the role of directing staff so they could absorb it well.
Well, that too would graduate as of today.
"You worked hard these past 3 days. The staff are moving smartly now."
"I never want to smell chicken again…… I feel queasy just thinking about it……"
Penelope, her face drooping, sat in the now-quiet closed shop and soothed herself with Cola.
"Still, it's good news. The chicken is selling so well."
Even so, behind her crumpled expression, she couldn't hide the glimmer of pride peeking through.
"We did well, didn't we? Right? Who would have believed it? That from the very first opening, a restaurant this wildly successful would appear."
It was a result Penelope had expected to some degree.
Upon first tasting the Seasoned Chicken, and then seeing the marketing approach Jurgen had come up with, she had thought, 'This is going to work!' The taste was that well-crafted, and the marketing was that effective at stimulating human instinct.
The calculation only added up if results of this level came through.
"Hmmmm, indeed."
But at the same time, Penelope knew what Jurgen's reaction meant.
Jurgen did not fixate on money right in front of him.
Yet at the same time he was an extraordinarily greedy person.
Did he not possess the desire to change the culture of an entire nation through the power of a single individual?
The scale was different compared to Penelope's modest desire to earn recognition from her family.
Penelope crossed her legs and propped up her chin.
"Alright alright, I get it. Go ahead and say it. I'll hear all of it."
"It's not that I'm dissatisfied, per se."
"Don't lie. Even you need at least one place to pour your heart out."
The red eyes looking squarely at Jurgen held a gentle warmth, like that of someone coaxing a small child.
"Speak honestly. What is it you feel is lacking?"
If Penelope was going to push this far, he might as well be honest.
"Now that things are going well, there's certainly something that feels lacking. I can't help but think the story is a bit thin, so to speak."
Story.
The force that builds a brand image.
People buy a brand's story.
What the performance is like, what the function is like, what the taste is like — those are ultimately secondary matters.
They believe a bitten apple is a symbol of innovation, and upon seeing the mark of an enraged bull, they think of wealth and a free-spirited gallop.
Cola is the same.
Cola achieved its current success not simply because it tasted good, but because it was a beverage beloved by Britannia's jewel Bellaby, and one that nobles fretted desperately over to obtain even a single bottle.
But CCC's chicken?
The taste is perfect. That was proven by the free tasting event.
The addictiveness is certain too. The bustling shop is proof of that.
But whether this could truly be grown into a Franchise remained something he couldn't quite estimate.
"If some fitting narrative could be woven in to leave a deep impression on the public, that would be ideal……"
"So that's what's lacking? You really are something else with your ambitions."
"No, didn't you tell me to be honest about it?"
"Even so, it doesn't change the fact that you're greedy."
Penelope rose from her seat and patted Jurgen's hunched back — thud thud.
He turned around in surprise to find Penelope smiling boldly.
"Didn't you say something once? That I shouldn't worry about what others think, and to just trust you."
"……I did say that."
"You see further ahead than me, so more worries and concerns must be visible to you than to me……. But I'm going to return those exact words to you."
Penelope clasped her hands behind her back and spun around.
Her voice followed with a subtly curling end.
"You really are a remarkable person. Trust yourself a little more. I'm sure that if it's you, you'll manage it just fine."
"Penelope……"
"Of course I'll be there helping beside you too."
Penelope walked out without looking back.
How beautiful is the retreating figure of someone who knows precisely when to deliver a magnificent line and leave.
"And also — Penelope 'Yang,' Penelope 'Yang' — enough of that already. What's the point of keeping up that formality in just that one part when you speak informally in everything else anyway."
Penelope, characteristically unable to resist tossing in one final quintessentially-Penelope remark, strode briskly toward the front door.
But.
— Clunk
Penelope's retreating figure faltered before a door handle that didn't budge an inch.
"Penelope, I locked the front door at closing time earlier. You'll need to go out through the back."
"……"
Penelope turned around.
And without ever showing her face to Jurgen.
She executed an elegant waltz turn and moved her steps toward the back door.
Peeking out between her bright golden hair, her ears were terribly red.
***
At that moment.
Serena, who had clocked out a little earlier than Jurgen and Penelope, was humming to herself as she headed home.
The piping-hot paper box nestled against her chest, and the gently wafting scent of Seasoned Chicken.
She couldn't help but hum a tune.
"Haaa, eating a late-night snack will make me fat……"
But she'd worked hard today driving around and delivering chicken to the free tasting stands.
Wasn't that a caloric plus-minus zero?
In that case, wouldn't eating a late-night snack not make her fat at all?
Serena, in the middle of justifying herself with such self-rationalization, heard the voice of a young girl from behind her.
"You there."
"Yes?"
Serena flinched and turned around.
Ever since being kidnapped twice, she startled at the slightest things, feeling her heart plummet.
Was this what they called PTSD or whatever it was.
But what was behind Serena was neither a masked assailant nor a dark mage with spider-like whiskers.
It was a petite little girl whose chubby cheeks hadn't yet lost their baby fat.
Unlike Penelope with her light golden hair, she had deep golden hair as if woven from a 24-karat gold bar, and sapphire-green eyes.
So cute she could pull off even the shabby clothes that commoners wore like a child model.
One thing was certain.
They had never met before.
Serena was young-looking, but this girl was clearly younger than Serena.
"Hand over the food inside that container to this person."
"……?"
Serena glanced around, then slowly pointed a finger at her own chin.
"That's right, I mean you. You."
What on earth are you?
In the face of the little squirt's brazen declaration, the soon-to-be Viscountcy Serena Renoir was left utterly at a loss for words.