After another busy service like usual, the three of them headed over to a place called Gye-dan-jip at the entrance of the Seochon food alley. Apparently, it was their regular spot.
Because the meeting ran longer than expected, Seung-jun had only joined the kitchen right before service, and as soon as it ended, he had been called straight back to Jae-geon’s office. With no sign of that ending anytime soon, the three of them came down first.
Clatter—
The scraping sound of a metal table drew everyone’s attention. Hae-som flipped over her phone, which had been face down, and broke into a small smile.
[Be careful of the last bus! Be careful drinking!!! Be careful of men!!!!!] – Dad
[Make the chef buy you lots of good food! Eat well!] – Mom
Jae-geon was absent, just as Hwi had said—no way a head chef would show up at a staff dinner.
Her plan to casually bring up Cha Ji-won while drinking had fallen apart, but the relaxed mood without Jae-geon wasn’t bad at all.
Hwi, sounding more cheerful than usual, handed her a shot glass.
“You must’ve felt intimidated among all those big shots. Thanks for holding your own, rookie!”
“She’s tougher than she looks. No worries—let’s just be happy. Cheers!”
Their glasses clinked over the steaming clam dish. As the alcohol started to settle in, bits of her seniors’ past experience floated into Hae-som’s ears.
“What kind of toast is that? Shows the level of American Cordon.”
“Quit flexing your French school pride. You’re looking down on the legendary last class of American Cordon?”
“You want to act up with just a nine-month diploma?”
“Ugh, that French cartel! Someone needs to tear it down!”
Jae-min grabbed his chopsticks like a weapon and swung them through the air. Hwi chuckled and refilled his glass.
“If you’re going to cut heads, start from the top. Jung Jae-geon, Cha Jun-won, Han Seung-jun, then Seo Jun-young.”
“Why’d you leave yourself out?”
“If we cut off all the top dogs, who’s going to cook? You think a wannabe American chef can handle it alone?”
Jae-min smirked and downed his drink.
“For your information, I was personally picked by the chef.”
“Same old line. Why don’t you go ahead and list your Argent credentials too?”
It seemed Seung-jun and Hwi had gone to the same school as Jae-geon, and Jae-min had worked with him before.
With nothing notable to her name—not even a college degree yet—Hae-som quietly emptied her glass.
She had been lucky just to get into Not, but expecting to become a full-time employee? She needed to give up on that. Nothing hurt more than false hope.
Having seen how Jae-geon resembled Yoo Eun-ho, she understood that all too well. Giving up was easier.
Breaking the brief lull, Seung-jun entered the restaurant with energy. Maybe something good had happened—he was smiling and even humming.
Hwi, now in his seventh year in the kitchen, frowned as if he had a guess.
“What took so long in the meeting?”
“What do you think it was about?”
“That?”
“No way.”
Jae-min joined in, and Hae-som felt completely left out.
From the mood, it didn’t seem to be just about a new menu. But since she didn’t know anything, her thoughts stopped there.
Seung-jun proudly pulled out his phone like he was showing off a prize.
“Our team got assigned the summer seasonal special menu!”
Groans came from both sides of Hae-som.
“So that’s what those two workaholics were scheming.”
“If it’s moved to the main section, it won’t be easy. Hyung, you handle it—or make the youngest do it.”
Jae-min waved his hand and turned away as if he’d had enough. Seung-jun shot him an annoyed look, then turned to Hae-som, whose eyes were shining with curiosity.
“Hae-som, want to do it?”
The offer made her heart jump. She swallowed and looked at Seung-jun’s phone.
On it was a wide, shallow dish with pebbles, topped with what looked like a whole sea urchin shell. It didn’t seem that complicated. She tilted her head.
“It looks too simple for a special.”
“We’re not using real sea urchin. It’s an imitation made from sugar craft. You drip black-sesame-colored sugar drop by drop to form the spikes. Kind of like brûlée.”
“…What?”
There had to be at least a hundred spikes. Just making those would take time, and the rest didn’t sound simple either.
Jae-min and Hwi exchanged looks and frowned.
“You’re in charge, right? Please say yes.”
“What kind of obvious question is that? Gives me chills.”
As he poured soda—not alcohol—into Hae-som’s glass, Seung-jun added casually,
“My job. And the order is for Seong Hae-som to assist.”
With Seung-jun’s announcement, the drinking picked up speed, and the mood quickly warmed.
Hae-som still felt dazed—she had just gone from a Stagiaire, practically a gofer, to being treated like part of the team. As she stared blankly into her soda-filled glass, more questions and answers flowed.
“Where did you learn cooking?”
“At K University.”
“No way—that’s not just school level. Your knife work is solid.”
Back when she had lived as a child monk, she had tried everything to get Yoo Eun-ho, who barely ate, to have something.
She went down the mountain with Eun-ho’s younger sibling, Eun-seong, to gather ingredients, and once even burned a large cauldron black trying to cook.
Maybe it was all that effort. By the time she entered college, Eun-ho had gained enough weight to properly fill out his loose monk robes. His pale face had some color, and he could even climb the mountain behind them.
Just when it seemed he was getting better, he suddenly died.
Like it had been meant to happen.
The memory stung under her eyes. Pretending it was the alcohol, Hae-som brought her hand to her cheek and quietly wiped away a tear.
“I lived as a child monk for a short time when I was young. I guess that’s when I naturally got into cooking.”
“Oh, so you know temple cuisine well.”
“I’m actually more familiar with that than fine dining.”
As if something had finally clicked, Seung-jun snapped his fingers.
“I told you the chef didn’t bring in a college grad with no experience for nothing.”
The blunt mention of “no experience” stung, but there was no ill will. Unlike the cold first day, Seung-jun now treated her with quiet warmth.
Hae-som had a feeling—it was him who suggested her promotion from a mere helper.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
Meanwhile, it was obvious Jae-min had been the one who moved the apple container out of reach earlier.
Before Hae-som could glare at him, Hwi cut in.
“Hey, did you boil your common sense into soup?”
“I torched it, actually. Why?”
“Why do you think?”
He raised his pinky finger in a strange signal from his scarred fist. Hae-som didn’t understand it at all. Seung-jun clicked his tongue and asked thoughtfully,
“How do you know the chef? Through an introduction?”
Since everyone seemed to have known each other for a long time, maybe they knew something about Cha Ji-won. Maybe there was a way to deal with her here.
After a brief hesitation, Hae-som answered honestly.
“Through the editor of Savorin.”
In an instant, the table fell silent.
Under several confused stares, Hae-som blinked.
“Why…?”
“Cha Ji-won? That Cha Ji-won? Ha!”
Jae-min glanced at Hwi, who was suddenly snapping.
“She’s the manager’s sister, right? Cha Ji-won.”
Hae-som froze for a few seconds.
Cha Jun-won, Cha Ji-won. The clue had been right there—why hadn’t she noticed?
As she finally put it together, Hwi suddenly slammed his fist on the table.
Clatter.
The clams rattled, but no one spoke.
Just mentioning her was enough to chill the mood. It seemed she would have to deal with Cha Ji-won’s obsession on her own.
Hae-som let out a long, heavy sigh.
Despite her father’s constant warning about catching the last bus, time had slipped away.
It was well past midnight. The buses to Bundang had long stopped, and even thinking about an expensive taxi felt daunting.
Luckily, she had somewhere to stay for the night within Seoul. She had sent a message earlier, so he would be arriving at the taxi stand soon.
“Hae-som! Wanna—hic!—go for round two with oppa?”
After getting smacked lightly by Hwi, Jae-min was dragged away by Seung-jun. Hwi stayed behind with Hae-som at the taxi stand.
Click, click—
The sound of a lighter echoed in the warm night air.
“This is why smoking’s a problem. After drinking, you crave it.”
“Then why don’t you smoke?”
“No way the chef would allow it. If he finds out, you’re out immediately.”
Hwi traced a finger across his neck in a cutting motion and laughed at himself.
“Man, I must be pretty drunk. Better head home before I embarrass myself. Want me to get you a cab, rookie?”
“No, it’s okay. A friend’s coming.”
“A friend?”
Just then, a car’s headlights flashed as it entered the alley. Hae-som recognized the face through the windshield and ran toward it.
“Yoo Eun-seong!”
In that instant, the smile disappeared from Hwi’s face.