Cheat day

Celebrity (4)

Monday.

Woken up by sounds from the kitchen, I see Chanyong making breakfast.

He’s supposed to be filming for Baekban Follow Season 2 today, so he should be hurrying, but insists on having breakfast.

I approach to make my presence known.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Not enough. You should sleep more, too.”

“I’ll sleep on the way.”

He says that, but we both know he’ll be chatting and unable to sleep.

His little lies are sweet and make me want to rely on him.

I hug him from behind.

“I know you won’t sleep. Why do you always tell such obvious lies?”

“Because you know it already.”

I don’t know what he means, but I don’t want to let go of his broad back.

“Garlic?”

“Yes. Garlic chicken steak.”

As he turns on the gas stove, I step back to watch him cook.

He scores the raw chicken breast, seasons it with salt, and puts it in a pan with two swirls of cooking oil.

As the chicken cooks, he adds chopped garlic and a handful of whole garlic cloves to the pan.

We recently bought half a basket of garlic, so garlic’s been a regular at our table lately.

Once he adds a spoonful of butter to melt, I get up to prepare the utensils.

I scoop rice from the rice cooker and take some seasoned greens and kimchi from the fridge, placing them on the plates.

Just as I put the side dishes back in the fridge, the chicken steak is ready. Chanyong takes the well-cooked chicken from the pan, sprinkles it with pepper, and places it on a plate.

Opening the pot on the stove, steam rises.

He removes the steamed cabbage, cuts it into bite-sized pieces, and sets it on the table.

It’s a luxurious breakfast.

“How is it?”

“It’s good.”

The garlic flavor is a bit overwhelming, but it adds depth to the plain taste, and despite the dryness, the butter helps make it tender enough to enjoy.

“Should we get another car?”

He brings up something unexpected.

When I look up, he explains why he’s thinking about it.

“It’s inconvenient on days like this. And with the Korean Cuisine Enthusiast filming schedule, it’ll only get busier.”

“I used to take the subway.”

“But didn’t you mention you were looking at cars before?”

He remembers something I said in passing.

“If I need a car, I’ll buy it with my own money. Don’t worry about it.”

“We could buy one under the company name.”

“I don’t need it immediately.”

“Then I’ll ask again tomorrow.”

“Heh.”

This is typical of him.

He never forces anything. He asks for my opinion and listens, just as it is.

When one of our opinions is more reasonable, we follow each other’s lead, but neither of us changes our minds because of it.

When we disagree, like now, he declares he’ll ask again tomorrow, and he always does.

So I can be honest, any time.

“A car would be convenient, but I worry about the expense.”

“Let’s look at small SUVs, maybe electric or hybrid. They’re fuel-efficient and come with benefits.”

“…”

“We could look around first and then decide, right?”

“Alright.”

We laugh and continue eating, and then Chanyong stands up.

“Can you take care of cleaning up?”

“Take care and have a good day.”

“Will do. I might be a bit late today. I’ll check the time and let you know.”

I nod, and he quickly leaves the house.

I’m a slow eater, while he’s fast, so this happens often.

We’re both mindful of it, but on days like today, there’s no choice.

After finishing the food at my own pace and doing the dishes, I put on a mask and grab the duster.

I dust the furniture, and then, like magic, the robot vacuum takes care of the floor.

When we first moved in, I wondered why we needed it, but with its dust suction, mop, auto-dusting, and self-cleaning functions, it’s become indispensable.

The house is simply too big to clean alone.

***

I arrive at the office at 1 p.m.

There’s a pile of packages at the door.

After moving them inside and checking, there are seven sample products from a food company seeking a review and five gifts from subscribers.

Since To That Sky aired, I’ve been receiving packages daily. I’m amazed people even know the address.

I share my office address with companies when necessary, but I’ve never posted it publicly for subscribers.

Somehow, it seems like my address is spreading by word of mouth through company contacts.

“…”

Recently, I noticed that Chanyong seems a bit concerned about this.

When we first met with the broadcasting team for Korean Cuisine Enthusiast pre-meetings, Chanyong mentioned feeling awkward with the overwhelming welcome he received from them. Initially, he brushed it off, but after seeing it myself during company meetings for ads or when meeting other YouTubers, I could understand why he feels uncomfortable. Many people are uneasy around him, like abruptly standing up when he enters—likely due to his influence.

For Chanyong, who’s quietly endured subtle disrespect rather than reverence, this sudden shift feels strange and unsettling. He’s also grown more aware of the scrutiny he faces—not regarding his appearance, but in his behavior, almost to an anxious degree.

Just last night before bed, he mentioned, “I messed up the recycling. I shouldn’t be making mistakes like that.” I think he’s feeling pressure about his words and actions, with the idea that someone might recognize him anywhere, a pressure he hadn’t considered before. Although this caution will likely benefit his career, it could be stressful if it grows into an obsession.

He never used to feel the need to visit hair salons regularly, but now, with all the attention, it feels burdensome. His casual approach to small talk has also changed, now interpreting questions as being about his personal information. This concern isn’t unwarranted either, as it’s become essential to guard private details like his home address and phone number.

***

“Today’s destination is Suncheon, the largest city in Jeollanam-do.”

“My hometown!” Baek Woojin cheered, raising his arms when PD Park Sangcheol announced the location.

“In spring, there’s clams and crab, in summer, peaches and plums, in autumn, pears and cockles, and in winter, dried persimmons. So much to see and eat there.”

“Don’t forget the water parsley! It’s delicious!” He’s a hometown enthusiast.

“Let’s quickly answer the questions and get going,” Cha Jichan urged, signaling with his hand to speed things up.

“There won’t be any quiz today.”

“What then?”

“There were a lot of comments on the viewer board last week about the questions being too hard.”

“Oh, come on, say it like it is—they were saying you did everything you could to make sure we wouldn’t get the answers right.”

“PD-nim, you were getting a lot of heat, too,” Baek Woojin and Joo Jiseung chimed in, hitting the mark, causing PD Park Sangcheol to laugh awkwardly.

“So, what’s it going to be today? This won’t be like last time, right?” I jumped in to continue with the show.

“Alright. Today, I’ve brought you a challenge you’re all confident in.”

“Something we’re confident in?”

Looking at Joo Jiseung, he answers, “Cooking.” Baek Woojin says, “Anything,” and Cha Jichan says, “Exercise.”

“That’s right. Today is a physical challenge.”

“I’m confident about je-yuk (spicy pork)!”

“In five minutes, each team—the production team and the cast—will transport rice to the designated area. The team that moves the most rice wins. If you win, you’ll receive a 300,000 won allowance and the rice will be donated to the Suncheon area.”

“What if the production team wins?”

“No allowance, but the rice will still be donated.”

Either way, we’ll have to give it our best.

“So, it’ll be the four of us. Who’s coming from the production team?”

I asked, and PD Park Sangcheol gave a signal.

Suddenly, a whole crowd of guys came out from between Camera 4 and the writer.

We were all speechless. The production team brought out ten people.

“…What’s this supposed to be?”

Baek Woojin asked.

“You’re all athletes. We’re regular folks, so it’s only fair if we have ten people.”

“Oh, come on. That’s ridiculous.”

“Do you want more complaints?”

“This isn’t fair.”

“Woojin is practically dead weight. How are we supposed to win 10 versus 3?”

Even Cha Jichan voiced his disapproval.

“Why am I dead weight? I can do it too!”

“Look here,” Cha Jichan pointed to a stack of rice sacks.

Baek Woojin marched over, struggling to lift a 20kg rice sack.

“See? This isn’t reasonable.”

“It’s fine. We have people on our team who can’t lift much either.”

“Woojin, come over here.” Joo Jiseung called out to the struggling Baek Woojin sympathetically.

“Ten people is too much. You saw how Woojin did. Let’s make it five.” I offered a compromise, and PD Park Sangcheol looked at the production team and nodded.

“Then we’ll choose our strongest people too, alright?”

“Deal!”

“4 vs 5 is doable!”

“Woojin, go cheer us on.”

Joo Jiseung nudged Baek Woojin, who was shouting that we could do it.

“Got it.”

Then he trotted over to the writers, took a whiteboard, wrote “Baek Seungyong Truck Fighting!” and waved it around. You’ve got to give it to him.

“Hold on, time out.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Strategy meeting.”

“One minute.”

Though this is a recording with plenty of time, they always rush us like this.

“Alright, gather around, guys,” I called Joo Jiseung and Cha Jichan over.

“Look, we each have to carry more than them. We need to load up as much as possible each time.”

Since we’re outnumbered, that makes sense.

“But isn’t it awkward to carry them?”

“That’s why, Side Dish, you load the sacks onto Jiseung and me. If we each carry two sacks on our shoulders, that’s four at a time. When the five production team members carry five, we’ll be carrying eight.”

“Isn’t there time spent loading them too?”

“It’s still faster than making multiple trips.”

“But isn’t four sacks 80kg? They’re bulky, too.”

“That’s no problem.”

“I think I can handle it too.”

“So I just need to load them for you?”

“Yep.”

“Time’s up!”

PD Park Sangcheol urged us to start.

“Please go back to your positions. When the signal sounds, you’ll have five minutes to move the rice bags. Stack them carefully. If they topple, they won’t count.”

“Let’s go!” Cha Jichan shouted as the whistle blew.

I lifted two rice sacks onto Cha Jichan’s right shoulder as planned, then grabbed two more to place on his left shoulder. He marched off with steady steps.

“Haah!” Joo Jiseung shouted as he brought his shoulder forward, but he’s taller than Cha Jichan, making it harder to lift the bags high enough.

“Urgh.”

Joo Jiseung took off, and as I was catching my breath, Cha Jichan was back in front of me.

“What are you doing? Hurry up and load me up.”

“Oh, right.”

I loaded another four bags on him, feeling exhausted. Just as I wanted to stretch my back, Joo Jiseung leaned his face toward me.

“Chanyong! Hurry!”

“Ah, coming!”

This… feels like we might have divided the roles wrong.