Translation

Special: Sea urchin brûlée

Sweetfish saseuljeok

Imja-sutang

Galbijjim with radish purée

The moment they began preparing the menu, which had seemed simple compared to the previous quarter, Hae-som grasped the grievances of her seniors who had done nothing but heave sighs back at Gye-dan-jip. It went without saying for the sea urchin brûlée that required sugar art, the sweetfish saseuljeok that needed a precise 5cm cut, the imja-sutang featuring sous-vide chicken as its centerpiece, and even the radish purée that demanded a delicate touch due to its strong, sharp, and bitter taste.

Unlike the anxious Hae-som, the chefs who had been working together for months exuded a relaxed confidence. Jae-min and Hwi, having finished their prep a while ago, moved to the corner and exchanged idle chatter.

“Ah, is Savorin coming tomorrow too?”

“Do you think a man so strict about separating business and personal matters would exclude Savorin from the preview tasting? Even if Cha-you-know-who has a trash personality, the fact remains that her influence is massive. If he cut off Cha Ji-won and lost his livelihood, that would be a whole other issue.”

“True. That must be why he accepted the intern they sent over, too.”

Seung-jun let out a sharp hiss to quiet them down, but in truth, Hae-som had no energy to listen to their gossip. She had been running on an awkward, parallel line with Jae-geon for days. He kept his gaze to himself, and Hae-som did not beg for his attention.

Even amid their uncomfortable and strained encounters, their surroundings remained calm, like the eye of a storm. Ji-won stayed quiet, and Song Ji remained silent—so much so that it made her wonder if Jae-geon had taken some sort of action. Did he perhaps meet with Ji-won? She told herself it was none of her business, but Hae-som felt a useless flutter of unease in her chest.

As if reprimanding the dazed Hae-som, Seung-jun raised his voice while melting sugar.

“Seong Hae-som. Are you not focusing?”

“I apologize, Team Leader.”

“Keep your wits about you when handling hot things. One wrong move and it’s a disaster. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Shaking her head to cast away her useless thoughts, Hae-som turned her attention back to Seung-jun. A drop of dark purple syrup fell onto the Teflon sheet with a faint pop. After waiting about three seconds for the surface to harden, he pinched the edge with tweezers and pulled it upward. The sugar thorn, standing stiff at a 90-degree angle, gleamed with a brilliant shine. The syrup concentration mattered, but the crucial point was the perfect timing.

“Here, give it a try.”

Taking the copper pot and pouring spoon from Seung-jun, Hae-som reviewed the process he had just demonstrated. Her hands hovered over the Teflon sheet, just about to drop the syrup.

“…….”

A scent of pine drifting from beyond the temporary glass wall gripped her slender wrist. Her hesitation at the familiar fragrance lasted only a moment before the self-deprecating words she had spat out returned like a boomerang, carving into her chest.

‘To the two of you, I’m just a toy you play with when you’re bored.’

‘I’m the only one who’s going to roll around, get broken, and get hurt.’

‘No matter what happens to me, Chef, you won’t care.’

She could not recall how Jae-geon had reacted to her masochistic words. Only his eviction order, frigid as always, remained vivid in her mind.

Bang! Jarred awake by the loud slam of the office door, Hae-som froze like stone.

Dark blue syrup coated the back of her hand. The agony of burning flesh sent a scream surging up her throat. Setting the pot she had tilted without thinking down onto the station, Hae-som scrambled for a way to treat the burn. Tearing off the sugar crystals melted onto her skin felt like it would rip her flesh away with them, but leaving them alone was unbearable under the searing heat.

“Seong Hae-som!”

Her wrist, hovering mid-air, was snatched away. Shoving Hae-som’s hand under the cold running water, Seung-jun lost his temper.

“Are you really not going to get a grip?!”

Startled by Seung-jun’s sudden outburst, the throbbing pain vanished in an instant. Hae-som tensed her shoulders and bowed her head.

“I am sorry.”

“Where is your head at while you’re working?! Don’t you know the kitchen is dangerous? What is wrong with you today?”

Yet, Hae-som knew this was an accident bound to happen sooner or later, even if not today. Risk factors scattered everywhere, and her sanity, stolen away in turns by insomnia and Jae-geon, showed no signs of returning. Even with her superior’s stinging rebuke, her mind remained hazy, bobbing like a buoy on the ocean. She struggled to focus her wavering vision, but her wandering attention refused to return.

Tiny blisters had already risen on the back of her hand after she pulled it from beneath the faucet to drain the heat. Hwi, returning with burn ointment from the first-aid kit, clicked his tongue.

“Looks like it’ll blister soon. Let’s apply aloe ointment first. It’s good for drawing out the heat.”

Careless hands slathered clumps of ointment onto the back of Hae-som’s hand. It was a generous amount, thick enough to hide the burn entirely.

“Tell the chef, get an early dismissal, and go to the hospital.”

“I’m okay.”

“What if it leaves a scar on a girl’s hand?”

Hae-som shook her head hard. Foremost, she refused to let this injury derail today’s final test, and she loathed the idea of making a fuss over a burn—a mark considered a badge of honor among chefs. Above all else, being framed as a ‘woman’ before being seen as an intern ignited a rebellious spark within her. Accepting it might feel nice right now, being coddled like a youngest sibling with older Oppas looking out for her, but excessive affection would in the end hinder her growth. In that context, Hae-som welcomed Seung-jun’s scolding.

Hae-som approached Seung-jun, who had already taken over pulling out the sea urchin thorns in her place.

“I want to prep, too. Please let me do it.”

Her insistence might seem presumptuous, but Hae-som pushed forward anyway.

“I snapped out of it earlier, and if you are worried about hygiene, I can wear gloves. I’ll even wash the dishes. I want to see how the final tasting is done.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Absolutely.”

At her confident nod, Seung-jun shook his head as if conceding defeat. Then he spoke.

“Wait until the heat subsides before you join in. There’s no immediate rush.”

Could their rhythm be any more perfect?

Watching the precise and meticulous workflow pass from Seung-jun to Hwi and then to Jae-min, Hae-som felt a strange sense of catharsis. From the beginning, they did not seem to need an assistant. They had likely just tossed her menial tasks—like prepping vegetables—because it was annoying to have dead weight tripping them up.

If only her hand were intact, she would have found a way to squeeze in. But a general charging into a battlefield without a sword faces an obvious fate. The tension kept draining from her shoulders, which she had propped up in an act of sheer defiance.

“At this rate, I’ll be sidelined until the internship ends.”

If she had known she would just be killing time with self-deprecation, she would have taken that early dismissal and gone to the hospital earlier. Would it look too pathetic to change her mind now? Her pitiful gaze swept across the station. There was an obvious empty spot, yet not enough room to squeeze her head in.

“Pfft.”

Her lingering gaze soon turned toward Jae-geon’s office in the back. She had acted tough, claiming she was fine, but in truth, the burn was severe enough to warrant an immediate trip to the emergency room. If Jae-geon saw the injury, he would likely grant her an early dismissal without adding any unnecessary remarks. Considering how much of an eyesore she had been to him, tossing her aside would be more convenient from his perspective anyway.

Hae-som scrutinized the gap in the espresso-colored blinds. It was a minuscule 5mm opening, almost too grand to be called a gap, but it seemed easier to breach than the three chefs over there. Her phone call with Ji-won still left an awkward residue, but they couldn’t stay like this forever. Should she just bite the bullet and confront him?

Knock, knock. At her timid noise, his voice replied.

“Come in.”

Jae-geon was closer than she expected. He sat perched on the edge of his desk, organizing the shirt he had just taken off onto a hanger. The naked, exposed muscles of his back tightened and released like thick ropes for quite some time. As if conscious of her gaze, Jae-geon threw on his chef’s jacket, but he turned around without buttoning it. Through the wide-open gap, his pectoral and abdominal muscles were displayed without restraint.

Faced with the half-naked body of a man for the first time, Hae-som’s mind went blank. She forgot her original purpose, let alone the fact that she had injured her hand. Of course, the existence of the ointment was long erased from her memory.

Showing no intention of closing his open jacket, Jae-geon sat up straight and kept his gaze fixed on Hae-som.

“Doesn’t your school teach you manners like closing the door?”

Hae-som slammed the door shut and stood facing Jae-geon. With nowhere to rest her eyes amid the feast of bare skin, she diverted her gaze to the pants he was at least wearing. Aside from possessing something robust in his left pocket, there were no other peculiarities. What a relief.

With his earlobes flushed red from her gaze piercing right through his center, Jae-geon finally slid a few buttons into their holes.

“I was going to call you in after the test anyway. Good timing.”