It was the first. The intern who had never flinched even through burns had asked to leave early.
“Chef… you weigh on me far more than burdock ever could.”
Already gaunt and pale, Hae‑som packed her bag, looking barely alive. She turned down his offer to walk her home, brushed aside his concern that she was all right. And walked away, step by slow step, on her own.
Something inside her had snapped. She felt as though she might shatter apart. And her rage—all of it—flooded toward the source of this ruin: Ji‑won.
Ji‑won burst onto the set where filming had briefly paused, chatting and laughing casually with Chef Jean. The subject of their talk was, of course, Hae‑som.
“You know what they say—that’s what power looks like, isn’t it? Cry whenever things get hard… and when tears don’t work, just spread your legs.”
“She doesn’t strike me that way.”
“Don’t be so naive. Girls who look innocent are often the boldest ones of all. You’re too trusting too, Chef Jean. Heh heh.”
Crack.
A sharp, stinging sound cut through her laughter—cold and final. A bright, clear handprint bloomed across her heavily made‑up cheek. Ji‑won let out a short, hollow laugh.
“What is this? Did you just… slap me?”
“Why? Isn’t that your taste, Cha Ji‑won?”
He had long since grown sick of her performance, turning on the waterworks, begging to be touched and handled hard. Where he had looked at Hae‑som’s condition with nothing but tenderness, he pulled away from Ji‑won as though she were filth.
They were never meant to last—not even if she had never gone running to another man. No… this was a bond that should never have been forged in the first place.
Seeing it all laid bare, Jae-geon watched her—left cheek stinging, feigning hurt—with cold resolve. He would sever this tie once and for all.
“How is your friend doing? The one you were sleeping with back then? Do you even remember who he was?”
His words landed like blows. Ji‑won’s face twisted—mask cracking. For all her thick‑skinned arrogance, it seemed some shred of decency still remained.
“You think the only rumor in this city is the one about Jung Jae-geon and Song Hae‑som? You sleep your way through every single person at your company—married or single. Didn’t his wife catch you recently? Humiliated you right in front of everyone? And that’s fine—but sharing your little preferences with all your other lovers? That bothers you?”
“Jung Jae-geon!”
“Why? Should I translate for the Chef too? Or is he too old for your tastes?”
Crack!
Another sharp sound rang out. Ji‑won swung—but Jae-geon caught her wrist in mid‑strike, snapping it hard. She clutched her broken hand, while he stood straight and not the least bit moved, cold and stubborn as ever.
“You should have behaved yourself while I was still willing to be patient.”
Ji‑won drew back her hand again, knuckles white.
“You think you could have reached all this without me? Do you have any idea how much of those three stars on your chest belong to me?”
“And that… is exactly why I hate it.”
He could not deny that Savorin had helped put Not on the map. Magazine and restaurant had grown together, feeding one another, until both stood at the top.
But knowing this truth—carved into stone for the whole world to see—only fueled his rage.
Ji‑won stared into his eyes, blazing with fury. With one final, threatening shove to his shoulder, she turned and walked away.
“You will regret this.”
She would use everything she had to destroy him. But Jae-geon knew one thing—he would never regret what he had just done.
His only regret… was that he had not acted sooner. That Hae‑som had been hurt in the process. It tore him apart.
“Damn it! What is everyone standing around for? Pack it up! Get out!”
At Ji‑won’s furious command, the crew moved in perfect unison—packing gear and clearing out in a quiet rush. Jae-geon looked at the bewildered Chef Jean… and for the first time in a long while, he laughed. Light. Free.
It was over.
Truly, finally… it was over.
Even with Hae‑som gone, the kitchen ran without a hitch. The chefs all knew what had happened yesterday—and kept perfect, straight faces. Only Jae-geon… struggled with her absence.
Had her stomach settled? Did she put anything on that aching heart of hers?
Strange enough, he felt a flicker of relief realizing today was Yoo Eun‑seong’s day off. They had grown up together—surely he would know how to soothe a heartbreak.
And then it hit him: he knew almost nothing about Hae‑som.
Beyond her simple tastes… and the wild, passionate intimacy they shared. For all the nights they had spent together… he was nothing more than someone she had slept with. The realization hit him with crushing frustration.
Whatever she might have felt toward him… his own judgment remained as sharp, as steady as ever. He finished service flawlessly—just like always. And collapsed.
“Care for a drink?”
Jun‑won offered him a glass of whiskey. Jae-geon took it without hesitation and let himself be drawn to Table 3. Beneath the city’s soft, glowing lights… both men let out a long, weary breath at the exact same time.
Jun‑won emptied his glass first, then spoke.
“She really did go and smash one of the jars on her way out, didn’t she.”
That explained Jae‑min bursting into his office in a panic. He had been pulled aside and told… something. But all Jae-geon could remember was the way Hae‑som had looked—standing there in his office.
“Because I’m stupid.”
He emptied his first glass, running a hand over his face as longing washed over him again. Jun‑won refilled his glass, pouring as if he had been waiting for this.
“I’ve filed a report—property damage. And she’s not going to let this slide. She’s going to come after everything—Hae‑som, Not… all of it.”
“…….”
“She tears everything apart and then just goes silent? Is that how it works? Do you have any idea how many people depend on you? On me? You need to tell me what you plan to do—so we can either stand with you… or figure out how to survive this.”
Would it feel better if he just let someone hit him? A soft, kitten‑paw blow—like Hae‑som’s—would feel like nothing. But he knew Cha Ji‑won… and she hit far harder. He emptied his second glass.
He found himself thinking of her—clapping along, singing him a birthday song. Her bright, genuine smile… dissolving into the amber whiskey.
“Tomorrow I start meeting with sponsors. If all else fails… I’ll go beg Chairman Jung for help. Open his warehouse, if I have to.”
Nothing stung more than bowing to the man who had ruined his childhood. But hadn’t Cha Ji‑won already forced him to do exactly that? How many lives depended on Not staying open?
He swallowed a bitter smile and emptied his third glass. Through blurring eyes… he kept seeing her. That white chef’s jacket, darting through the kitchen—eyes bright, focused entirely on her work, never sparing him a glance. That little chef… he ached to hold her.
Had she really only been gone a few hours? And she had already said—she was leaving. Name tag, title… everything behind.
“Ah…”
It felt as though a great hole had opened in his chest, letting the cold wind howl through. He pressed a hand to his aching heart. And when the warmth of the alcohol finally rose to his head… he declined Jun‑won’s help and walked home alone.
“…….”
Of course… she was not there.
Her toothbrush. The shirt she had borrowed and worn. Underwear no bigger than a triangle gimbap. All that remained… to remind him she was real.
He waited for her in vain. And the sleepless night dragged on. Until finally… the sun rose. And Jae-geon woke from a long, painful dream.
This cannot go on. He could not endure a single day without Song Hae‑som.
With that fierce, simple conclusion… he went straight to Not.
And there she was. Pale, tired… waiting for him.
The jar she had once tended so carefully was gone—swept away. Only scattered shards remained where it had stood.
What could even have happened in the half‑day she was gone?
Hae‑som stood outside the kitchen, watching the bustle. Eyes turned toward her—whispering, judging. And the weight of their disapproval hurt more than she could bear.
She bit her lip hard, walking past the appetizer and entremet stations… until she reached the main kitchen. The place that felt like home. And her heart finally calmed down. Tears threatened.
She walked past Seung‑jun—steady and reliable as an older brother, and all the harder to face—and toward Hwi. He stood staring at her, knife set down, clearly shaken.
“What’s wrong?”
She had left before everything blew up—so she did not know the full story. She could only guess… from the heavy, suffocating silence.
Hwi let out a long breath and glanced toward Jae-geon’s office.
“From what we hear… you two put on quite a drama yesterday.”
They had looked good together, he and Ji‑won. Anyone could see it. And Hae‑som had felt a sharp, foolish twist of jealousy—how dare I even think that.
“You know their history, right? Everyone knows that tired old story—unrequited love that turns into obsession.”
“…….”
“And from the Chef’s side… it’s a trap. If he cuts ties with her, he loses all sponsorship. Everything collapses.”
Jinwoorim’s name crossed her mind—the one alternative. But she also knew how hard Jae-geon had fought to keep from relying on that family.
Her mind, foggy from sleepless nights of practice… finally went quiet. Hwi gave her a dry, knowing smile—eyes tired, craving a cigarette.
“But word is… it ended yesterday. They fought. He smashed that jar. All hell broke loose.”
“…….”
“Things will be messy for a while. And you… they’ll drag you right into the middle of it all.”
For a while… she wondered if that applied to her. Regardless of whether she passed Jae-geon’s test… Hae‑som had decided she would leave Not today.
She finished prepping the sea urchin, then moved to four burdock dishes—one for each course.
Appetizer: Burdock ceviche—thinly shaved with skin on, bright and fresh.
Entremet: Burdock consommé, served with zucchini gnocchi.
Main: Miso‑mayo steak, topped with braised burdock confit garnish.
Dessert: Dark chocolate mousse cake, crowned with thin, crisp burdock chips.
Seeing Chef Jean and Jae-geon’s masterful demonstration had shaken her confidence… but then she thought—they are legends. I am just starting out. We were never meant to be equals.
But she would not use her inexperience as an excuse. Jae-geon knew exactly what she was capable of. He would know instantly whether this was her best… or not.
So she bit down hard and poured everything she had into this tasting.
She missed the thorny, wild honey she had planned to use—but there were plenty of other varieties that would work.
Holding her knife exactly the way Jae-geon had once taught her… she breathed deep.
First—peel the burdock into long strips. Score it finely so the skin would not be tough. While it soaked in sweetened vinegar… prepare the confit garnish. Simmer the consommé. And then…
By the time she finished mapping every step in her mind—all the way through service, through the evening tasting—she felt it. A quiet, rising thrill. Despite everything… she was happy.
“Whew…”
She steadied her breath and stood straight. It was past five o’clock. And as Jae-geon walked past the kitchen… she stopped him.
“Please taste this.”
