Chapter 82: “What the hell…” - Damn, I Don't Want to Build a Business Empire - NovelsTime

Damn, I Don't Want to Build a Business Empire

Chapter 82: “What the hell…”

Author: tiko_tiko
updatedAt: 2025-10-08

CHAPTER 82: “WHAT THE HELL...”

PS: Special thanks to Darkness_Rider for the immense support. Since this is an older novel, I mistakenly posted a draft version of a Chapter. Please check the Chapter you thought your coins were wasted on—I’ve already edited and corrected it. As a small gift from me, here are two redeem codes for 10 free Chapters each:

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Kim Suho was halfway to the cafeteria when he froze.

From the distance came the sound of stomping feet, dozens of them. He turned his head and nearly dropped his phone.

A horde of workers from other factories was sprinting toward his cafeteria like rioters storming a warehouse sale.

"What the hell..." Suho muttered. "Do they want to demolish my dining hall?!"

At the cafeteria window, Lee Wonho spotted the mob and panicked. He spun around, grabbing Wu Yi’s sleeve.

"Uncle Wu, the customers are here! Are the lunchboxes ready?"

"All packed!" Wu Yi called back, already hauling a pair of heavy cardboard boxes onto the counter. "Thirty-one boxes of dishes, thirty-six boxes of rice."

Before Suho could even blink, a young worker slammed his cash down on the window ledge.

"Brother Wonho! I got here first—give me ten portions!"

"Look at today’s menu yourself," Wonho said coolly, pointing to the A4 paper taped to the glass. His handwriting listed the day’s treasures:braised spare ribs, sauced chicken wings, kung pao chicken, twice-cooked pork...

The young man waved the menu off. "No need to look. The food from your cafeteria is better than anything outside."

Wonho grinned like a proud hawker, stuffed ten lunchboxes and ten rice boxes into the man’s bag, and pocketed the $150.

But before the man could even leave, the flood hit.

"Two portions!"

"One for me!"

"Don’t squeeze! Brother Wonho, it’s me, give me five!"

Money flew at the window like confetti at a parade. Hands shoved forward, voices shouted over each other. Wu Yi was shoving boxes out so fast he looked like a magician pulling doves from a hat.

Five minutes later, nothing remained but empty cardboard. Wonho dusted off his hands and barked, "Sold out! Come back tonight!" and slammed the window shut.

Behind them, Suho stood frozen, jaw slack.

Are my leftovers really this popular?

Wonho hurried over, clutching a stack of crumpled bills like a guilty child showing his allowance.

"Boss Kim, I swear, all the money goes straight back into canteen purchases. Not a penny in my pocket."

Suho’s lips trembled. "...It’s fine."

Fine? My cafeteria just turned into a black-market food court, and he says it’s fine?

Suho sat down heavily at a nearby table, and Wu Yi promptly laid out six dishes in front of him—neat, steaming, perfect.

"Sit, all of you," Suho ordered. Wonho and Wu Yi perched nervously opposite him.

He stabbed at a rib with his chopsticks, then paused. "Tell me, Wonho. Whose idea was this little... side business?"

"Mine, boss," Wonho said quickly. "But Uncle Wu deserves half the credit! We share hardships and blessings!"

Wu Yi nodded loyally, as if they’d just survived a war.

Suho massaged his temple. Neither of these clowns lets me rest easy.

Then Wonho leaned forward, eyes shining. "Boss, I’ve been keeping statistics. Right now we sell thirty boxes a meal, but I’m certain we could sell two hundred a day. Easily."

Suho nearly choked. "Two hundred?!"

"Yes, sir! Think about it. Two hundred boxes a day at $15 each—that’s $3,000. Twice a day, $6,000. Our canteen expenses are only about $3,000 a day, so that’s pure profit. Over a month? More than $100,000 net income!"

He looked at Suho with puppy-dog eyes, waiting for praise.

Suho quietly set down his chopsticks. Net income? NET INCOME?! Do you people have any idea what business model we’re running here?

Taking a deep breath, Suho forced himself to stay calm.

"Wonho," he said slowly, "I understand you want to help the company. But think: if you start making two hundred lunchboxes, who’s cooking them? Uncle Wu and his chefs. Do you think that’s fair?"

Wu Yi quickly spoke up. "Boss, we already discussed it. The chefs don’t mind. Compared to hotel kitchens, this is paradise—short hours, higher pay. A few hundred extra boxes is nothing."

Suho’s eye twitched. So the chefs are in on this too. Great. I’ve got an entire culinary rebellion under my roof.

Finally, he snapped.

"No. The canteen is for employees, not the entire industrial park. You may sell leftovers, but no mass-production empire. Understood?"

Wonho and Wu Yi exchanged glances, disappointed.

"But," Suho added, a sly smile tugging at his lips, "since you’re all working harder, starting this month every chef gets a $1,000 raise, kitchen helpers $500, and you, Wonho—another $1,000. Cho Rin, note this down for finance."

Cho Rin scribbled dutifully.

Suho smirked inwardly. Think you can make money? Fine. I’ll spend it faster. Ten thousand a month gone, just like that. Beat that, lunchbox mafia.

Kim Suho rubbed his forehead and finally spoke, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

"Well... why stop at the canteen? From now on, every department gets a raise. Anyone who’s lasted more than a month—team leaders and above—gets a $1,000 raise. Grassroots employees, $500 raise. And yes, that includes Horny Princess Interactive."

Cho Rin froze mid-pen stroke. "B-boss, really? Across the board?"

Suho waved like a man giving away free candy. "That’s right. Go tally it up. Finance will implement this month."

The cafeteria table fell into stunned silence.

Wu Yi’s jaw dropped. Lee Wonho’s eyes bugged out like a cartoon frog.

Raises? This fast? Other companies waited a year, sometimes longer. Suho had waited thirty days.

Suho ignored their stares and dug back into his ribs with relish. Every extra dollar spent made his food taste better.

Still, he grumbled inwardly. Shame the system blocked me from raising salaries for newbies under one month. They said they need "special talents." What kind of nonsense rule is that? I could’ve burned twice as much by now.

Lunch ended quickly. Suho pushed back his chair, then suddenly remembered something.

"Ah, almost forgot. Sports meet is coming. Starting tomorrow, increase morning laps. Fifteen, not ten."

He turned to go but paused, locking eyes with Wu Yi.

Think you’ve got the stamina to cook two hundred extra lunchboxes? Let’s see if you still have stamina after five more laps.

Wu Yi slumped in his seat, devastated. He had just adjusted to ten laps without gasping like a dying ox. Now Suho had casually added five more, like it was nothing.

Beside him, Wonho sat glumly. He could already handle ten laps, but who on earth wanted to run when they could nap?

Both sighed in unison: "Why, boss, why..."

Meanwhile, in a dingy apartment reeking of Red Bull and despair, Jiang Jiu hammered his keyboard like a man possessed. His bloodshot eyes barely blinked. Empty cans littered the desk like trophies.

Hours passed. Suddenly, his whole body jolted.

The screen flashed. Equipment had dropped.

"It exploded!" Jiang Jiu screamed, half-laughing, half-crying. "After half a month—it finally exploded!"

He snapped a screenshot of the rare item and tossed it into the union chat.

Reactions poured in instantly:

"No way! New equipment?!"

"Damn, I’ve been grinding ten hours a day for two weeks and got nothing!"

"Gan Emperor strikes again! First one in the union!"

"Ou Huang, teach me your ways!"

Jiang Jiu leaned back, smug, but the nickname "European Emperor" made him twitch.

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