My Girlfriend Is a Fan of Me

The day after visiting my in-laws, we headed to Cheongseong Hotel, leaving our kids briefly with Our Mother, just in time for lunch.

When I heard the news that we were going to the hotel, I couldn’t help but recall my mother’s smirk, as if she had just stumbled upon some juicy gossip, when she asked, “Are you still that hot?”

Even my wife found it amusing, responding with, “Of course, Mom!” It was quite absurd.

Not that it was wrong, though.

“Hello, YouTube viewers! I’m Ryu Seo-ha, in charge of filming today.”

So here I am, watching my wife greet the camera right in front of the only 6-star hotel in the country. What in the world is happening?

“…So, honey, why did we come here again?”

After awkwardly finishing our greetings directed at the camera, I finally mustered the courage to ask the burning question.

I mean, she had been keeping it a secret for two days, but surely she’d reveal it in front of the camera.

“Huh? Because we have to shoot our content.”

“No, you have to tell me what content.”

“Aw, that would be boring! I prepared something super fun, so don’t worry.”

“…….”

But that was a vain hope; my wife was giggling with excitement, holding the camera in one hand while wrapping the other around my arm, leading me into the hotel.

“Let’s hurry, honey. I’m starving.”

“Well, if you’re hungry, what can we do?”

That little whine she threw in there was just icing on the cake.

With that ultimate move, I felt my plan to unveil the mystery of this content vanish, and instead, I resolved to focus on filling my wife’s belly.

After all, it was our house’s Mrs. who came up with this content herself. Surely she wouldn’t pull a fast one on me, right?

“By the way, honey, did you get permission to film here?”

“Yeah, of course! Why would you think otherwise?”

“True.”

I asked that question out of sheer concern, but knowing the owner of Cheongseong Industries, I felt relieved as we headed to the second floor, where the restaurants serving Korean, Chinese, Japanese, and French cuisines were located.

In the past, I probably would’ve felt an overwhelming burden from the aura that radiated from the corridors, but now, following my wife around, I seemed to have adapted somewhat and felt indifferent.

“Darling, what do you want to eat? Korean? Japanese? Chinese?”

“You like French, right? Let’s have French.”

While my wife intentionally avoided asking about Asian cuisine knowing I preferred it, I didn’t mind too much and chose the food genre she liked instead.

It’s not like I hated French cooking. Honestly, food from any genre tastes great at a restaurant with a good reputation. Moreover, my palate isn’t fancy, so I enjoy anything that’s yummy.

“Really? Then I’ll pay for the rice.”

“Anyone would think I usually pay if they heard that.”

She had the nerve to say something like that, considering I can barely get my wallet out when we go out to eat.

The only recent time I could think of when I did spend money was when we went to a café together or stopped at an ice cream shop for something sweet afterward.

Honestly, I was starting to feel anxious that I would end up becoming a kept man.

In reality, I can’t argue if that’s what people call me now.

“Ha, my money is your money, and your money is my money, right? If I buy, you buy; if you buy, I buy. It’s all the same.”

“So that means you’re the only one losing out.”

The reasoning was impressive, but clearly, the imbalance in who benefits didn’t escape my notice, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it.

Just by rough estimates, I’d guess the disparity in our finances is over 500 times. No, probably even more.

“Hey, but in return, I bought my husband’s love, so isn’t that good?”

“I can’t win in a battle of words with you.”

Even with the camera rolling, she was able to throw out a line like that while giggling. I just shook my head in disbelief.

My wife, hearing my mumblings, looked incredulous, as if to say, “Isn’t that your line?”

Anyway, it was decided that today’s lunch would be French, with my wife treating, so we crossed the corridor and entered the French restaurant on the right.

Since it was in the Cheongseong Hotel, it probably was a pretty well-known restaurant; even the outside had two stars hanging. My wife seemed to have been here a few times, saying, “The food here is quite good.”

“Welcome. Please take a seat wherever you like.”

Following the waiter’s guidance, we settled by the bright window, and soon our napkins, water, and utensils were set on the table.

Then, the bread that you simply can’t miss when you go to a restaurant like this arrived, and my eyes lit up.

Honestly, when I go to a French restaurant, the food is great, but the bread is just too delicious. Maybe it’s because I have a bit of a common touch.

“Heh, you always eat so much bread when we come to places like this, don’t you?”

“It just tastes extra good. Does it seem a bit rural?”

Seeing me like that made my wife chuckle softly, and I felt a bit sheepish, scratching my cheek, before quickly devouring a slice of buttered bread.

“So what if I love bread? It’s cute in its own way!”

“Hmm….”

While it wasn’t an insult, there’s something a bit awkward about being called cute when you’re a rugged guy with a five-year-old daughter.

The real problem is, my wife likely meant it sincerely, so it’s tough to jab back.

I’d like to ask her to edit that part out before posting on YouTube later.

“Excuse me. The amuse-bouche is a clean potage flavored with truffle, potato, and onion.”

While I was lost in my thoughts waiting for the food, the waiter wheeled over a serving cart and placed two plates on our table. It was a slightly beige, grayish, thick soup.

I took a taste as a test, and it wasn’t bad. It seemed they had sautéed the onions for a long time, giving it a slightly sweet flavor that blended nicely with the truffle aroma.

It was just the right taste to whet the appetite before the main course—neither too strong nor too weak, allowing it to slide right down.

“Tasty, isn’t it?”

“Is it to your taste? I’m glad.”

Next, another amuse-bouche of smoked salmon wrapped in some unnamed vegetables came out, followed by a cold appetizer of trout.

I hadn’t had much trout before, but my wife informed me that it’s quite a common ingredient in French cuisine. Especially used in amuse-bouche and appetizers.

Anyway, this too was delicious. The trout had salmon roe on top, paired with a slightly tangy sauce underneath, and surprisingly it matched quite well.

I theorized that since trout is in peak oiliness, the acidity might blend well because of that, at least based on my limited knowledge.

“Looks like it suits your taste quite well?”

“Yup, it’s delicious! Honestly, I think this is the tastiest French restaurant I’ve been to with you.”

Honestly, other French restaurants sometimes had dishes that were hard to understand due to unusual combinations that made me scratch my head, but here, there was none of that.

That doesn’t mean there was a lack of novelty in the dishes, but rather the overall quality of the flavor was high. It’s amazing how this goes well with that, it felt new yet delighted my palate at the same time.

Sipping on my wine made me feel like a connoisseur, but it was simply based on my average tastes.

Cheers!

Even though it was still lunchtime, we happily continued our meal, complemented with some wine.

After all, if things got out of hand on the way back, we could just take a taxi, so it wasn’t a big deal.

“Oh man, I’m stuffed.”

“That’s understandable. You cleared your plate without a trace, didn’t you?”

“I guess it was so good that I couldn’t help it. I really overindulged today.”

I couldn’t pull off the ridiculous act of patting my belly and burping in such a high-class restaurant, so I simply smiled satisfyingly, making my big appetite known.

To be honest, I was also conscious of the camera.

“Shall we get going soon?”

“Yeah, let’s.”

After enjoying dessert and chatting for a bit, I finally felt my belly a bit more comfortable and finished preparing to leave our seats.

But still, I didn’t catch what content we were filming. Nothing felt particularly special during the meal.

Of course, if it was a vlog-style filming, that could count as content; however, for my wife to assert with confidence that it’d be “super fun” seemed a bit dull.

Or is she planning to stop somewhere else afterward and film a proper date video?

“Huh? There’s no one at the counter.”

As I repeatedly pondered that question while heading towards the counter to settle the bill, the female employee who had been standing there was nowhere to be found. She must have stepped away for some urgent matter.

Should I wait for a bit then?

Tap.

“…Huh?”

Just as I was mulling over that, suddenly something soft grabbed my wrist.

I looked sideways and met eyes with my wife, who looked like she could break into a cheerful sound, lifting the corners of her mouth up to her ears. Then she said,

“Honey, let’s go now!”

“…What?”

Suddenly, she pulled my wrist, dragging me out of the restaurant without finishing our payment, like a thief escaping the scene.

H-Honey?

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