How many tries would it take before she finally pleased Jae-geon’s palate?

Appetizer, entrée, main, dessert—if just one of them could hit his taste exactly, that would be enough. But that “one” felt impossible to find.

From studying Not’s menu, she knew they all shared one thing: they never overpowered the true flavor of the ingredients. But that alone wasn’t enough to build a recipe around.

If only she’d paid attention to his tastes before everything else… instead of letting herself be swept up by him, blind to everything else.

Looking back, so much of it had been meaningless. What had she truly gained in his arms? She’d achieved nothing on her own, and the thought weighed her down.

“If you can successfully develop a menu entirely on your own… then I’ll let you go. Fair and square.”

He knew exactly how limited her skills were—so why make such a ridiculous bargain? And yet… part of her wondered what he really wanted. Why would he go this far just to keep her close?

“I… I like you.”

It couldn’t possibly be true.

Whatever the truth was, Hae‑som had no time to waste on idle thoughts.

Her insomnia had flared up again. It was him—treating her like a lover one moment, then keeping her at arm’s length the next. To find peace, she had to get away from him.

She poured every sleepless hour into burdock… but she had no idea if it would ever be enough.

Some steps felt right, but then she’d wonder if they were still too weak to stir that exact, hard-to-place taste of him.

She stared down at the stubborn root that still refused to give her an answer. Beyond her prep station, Chef Jean and Jae-geon were busy preparing their joint demonstration.

“Shoot with Chef Jean early tomorrow morning. We’ll finish before service starts. All junior staff report two hours early to help.”

She almost laughed at how tangled her fate had become with Savorin. And Jae-geon had actually agreed to it—she could only shake her head.

Thanks to Jae‑min volunteering to cover the main station, she could keep working on her recipe. He brought her energy drinks, kept teasing her with that easy smile, and while she was grateful for his warmth—like a caring older brother—she also felt uneasy.

She was leaving this place, no matter what. Saying goodbye to everyone she’d grown fond of was bound to happen.

The more she tried to pull away to spare them all pain, the more their kindness stayed. And slowly, a heavy sense of debt settled in her chest.

Even now—silently peeling burdock in the corner—people were still looking out for her. Jun‑won had left an iced Americano. Jae‑min had dropped off a buy‑one‑get‑one triangle gimbap. And that clear beef broth—she knew without asking who’d put it there. Her station was full of care she hadn’t asked for.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a proper meal. All she could recall was the breakfast Jae-geon had made her, ten days ago—simple, but perfect.

A sudden, sharp pang of hunger hit her. Tears pricked at her eyes.

“Sunbae?”

Jae‑min turned, Preparing the ingredients just as he’d been told, confused when she called.

“I’ll just eat this and be right back. If anyone’s looking for me.”

“Sure. Chef’s in the garden. Just so you know.”

It might have been well‑meaning… but for her, it was a way to avoid Jae-geon.

She changed course, heading for the lobby instead. She’d wait until the filming crew arrived, then slip into the background and stay out of sight. The coffee she’d sipped felt bitter than ever.

Sitting alone, she peeled back the wrapper of her gimbap and took one bite.

Then she heard an engine pulling up. Looks like she wouldn’t get to eat in peace. As she gathered her things, a sedan glided smoothly to a stop right in front of her.

“Valet?”

Ji-won rolled down the window, looking as naturally charming as ever. Polished, elegant—worlds apart from someone hunched over a cheap snack.

Maybe she’d finally gotten used to that gap. Hae‑som answered calmly.

“I don’t have a license yet.”

“You should’ve gotten one when you graduated high school. Once you start working, you’ll never find the time.”

Half of what he said stung… but some of it rang true.

Up front, Chef Jean sat quietly, watching Ji‑won and worrying. He had no idea what sharp words he might have just tossed at that quiet girl.

Seeing Hae‑som nod silently, looking so small, he unbuckled his belt and stepped out.

Hae‑som watched the car pull away, then blinked as he stood before her.

“Hi, Som.”

“Good morning.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you. And you?”

Chef Jean chuckled at her textbook English.

“What are you eating?”

“Breakfast. Um… triangle gimbap! Do you want to try?”

“Of course! Thank you!”

He’d spoken simply, on purpose—then pulled out a marker.

“You want my autograph?”

“Pardon?”

“And a selfie?”

“Yes, Chef!”

Her eyes went wide, bright as a deer’s. He smiled warmly, then guided her quickly inside, before Ji‑won could catch up.

Hae‑som stuffed the rest of her gimbap into her mouth, hurried to the locker room, pulled out his cookbook, and came back to stand before him.

“I’m a huge fan of yours.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Chef.”

Watching him sign with such confident strokes, she felt something shift in her chest. Someday… she wanted to be a chef like him—even better than him. Her dry, stinging eyes grew soft.

Jae-geon had already told him all about her talent and heart. Chef Jean teased gently.

“How much? More than Jae-geon?”

She thought for a moment, then shook her head slowly, voice small.

“Sorry, Chef.”

Her hands folded in front of her, so tiny it seemed impossible she could ever wield a knife. He laughed softly.

“But I like you too.”

He understood now why Jae-geon was so desperate to hold on to her. His blue eyes sparkled, warm and deep.

---

Filming moved smoothly under Ji‑won’s direction. He adjusted three large cameras with practiced ease, guiding the interview with sharp professionalism.

The two chefs prepared their signature dishes, talking all the while. Chef Jean did most of the joking; Jae-geon replied dryly, but every so often his gaze drifted to Hae‑som—pale, quiet, trembling.

“Ugh…”

She’d swallowed her food too fast, and now her stomach churned. The floor swayed beneath her. Still she stood firm, gripping her burdock, refusing to look weak.

She hated letting him see how fragile she was. Even though he already knew—pride stung all the same.

She kept up her silent battle with the root until the crew suddenly stirred. The first dish was ready.

The junior chefs crowded around, watching the masters work in awe.

Chef Jean, ever quick, stole a bite—then brought the plate straight to Hae‑som, hiding in the corner like a mouse.

“Bon appétit.”

Her vision swam, but how could she turn down a dish from one of the world’s greatest chefs? She’d eat it even if it made her sick!

She leaned in close, fork in hand. Roasted beetroot with goat cheese—a classic, elegant starter.

“Merci beaucoup, Chef.”

Chef Jean laughed out loud at her careful French. Even Jae-geon cracked a smile, though his eyes stayed sharp on her. Hae‑som took one bite.

It looked so simple… but then the earthy sweetness of beetroot bloomed, weaving perfectly with every garnish, taking over her whole mouth. It was masterful.

Her own carefully planned burdock appetizer felt foolish in comparison. She froze for seconds, stunned.

Her mind went blank. How did he get such depth? Beyond the main ingredients, she couldn’t begin to guess what else was there.

The second dish, the third—all the same. With every taste, Hae‑som fell even silent, more lost. Confidence drained away, replaced by a terrifying sense of how far she still had to go.

Cold sweat broke out all over her. The room tilted sideways. Chef Jean and Jae-geon were already plating the fourth course.

Quietly, she slipped away. Her legs shook as she ran for the restroom. Her stomach twisted violently.

“Ugh!”

She’d barely lifted the lid when she doubled over. Everything she’d eaten—so entranced, so careless—rushed back up.

Tears streamed down her face. Her jaw ached, trembling so hard she couldn’t stop it. And then—

“……!”

A familiar hand settled on her back. She stiffened, then tried to sound calm.

“This is the women’s restroom.”

“It’s my restaurant.”

“It’s occupied. Please get out.”

Her words came out sharper than she meant. He brushed her lip with his thumb.

“Stop acting like it’s dirty—ugh!”

“I made it. Nothing’s dirty about it.”

He pressed down gently on her tongue, deeper than she expected, until she gagged.

“Ugh…”

He held her head steady, rubbing her back all the while.

Chunks of beetroot she’d barely chewed came up, and suddenly—some of the nausea broke. She still retched, but the tightness eased.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood up. Pushing weakly past him, she washed her face, her hands, her mouth.

It was humiliating—that she couldn’t even be sick without him there to hold her. Tears mixed with the water running down her cheeks.

At the sound of her ragged breathing, he stepped close and pulled her firmly against him. He pressed her back to the wall, leaning down until their eyes were level.

“Please stop. I hate this.”

“You say you hate it—but why do you keep looking at me? Why do you pretend you don’t see me when we do? You’re just as crazy about me as I am about you.”

He pressed closer, burning hot against her. She shivered as she felt his breath on her neck, shaking her head, biting down hard on her own lip.

“Don’t.”

“I just don’t understand… why we have to be fighting at all.”

It was true. He had nothing to lose. She was nothing compared to him—how could she ever be his equal?

Her pride was all she had left. When he leaned in to kiss her, she bit down hard. Bright red blood welled up around his lip.

He didn’t flinch. He only licked the blood away with his tongue, then rested his forehead against the wall. And then, broken and raw:

“Forget that damn burdock… just look at me, Hae‑som.”