Insomnia hit Jung Jae-geon like a sudden car accident.
He had been dealing with headaches from various directions, so he thought he might just toss and turn for a day or two. Only after a week had passed did he realize: this was the cursed symptom Song Hae-som had left behind for him. In the chain reaction where his lack of sleep devoured his appetite, he found himself thinking of her bloodshot, weary eyes.
‘I have insomnia. It’s much worse than you think. I only sleep about three or four hours every other day.’
Had Song Hae-som really endured this for over four years? He had to respect her sheer, stubborn willpower.
‘The medicine doesn’t work well, and they say there’s no clear cure. But…’
He hadn’t bothered visiting a psychiatrist yet, but even if he did, the consultation would be obvious. They would ask if he had been stressed lately, offer shallow empathy, and prescribe sleeping pills. He hated the idea of baring his inner thoughts to anyone, and he had no desire to rely helplessly on medication to sleep. Seeing as he was still making such complaints, he supposed he hadn’t hit his absolute limit yet.
‘There’s nothing quite like an orgasm for falling asleep.’
Perhaps it was because he knew of a much more certain method.
Jae-geon pulled his gaze away from the empty station in the main section.
“Yoo Jae-min, how long for Table 8?”
“Three minutes, Chef.”
His voice, once hesitant because he wasn’t used to the menu, was finally full of confidence. Jae-geon’s satisfied gaze shifted toward the desserts.
“Is Dessert 3 not going in?”
Instead of answering, the Demi Chef and Commis Chef working under Lee Woon-seop glanced around uneasily. For some reason, Cha Jun-won, who should have been attending to customers in the dining room, was at the dessert station chatting with Woon-seop.
“Lee Woon-seop.”
What on earth were they talking about that was so interesting he couldn’t even answer when called? Jae-geon frowned hard at the lack of response and headed toward them.
“Is there a complaint?”
The moment he asked, he realized his mistake. Since the dessert service hadn’t even begun, there couldn’t possibly be a complaint for Woon-seop. Even if there were, they would have come to him, not Woon-seop.
Jae-geon’s cold gaze shot toward Jun-won, who had his lips pursed tightly.
“What are you doing?”
“Uh, what were we doing again? Hahaha. Ah, just passing on a message.”
“What message?”
Cowering under a look that seemed to say, Let’s see how long you can keep lying, Jun-won began rambling anxiously, trying to distract him.
“Oh, oh, the mains are ready! Send them out quickly before they get cold.”
He had said it would take three minutes, but it came out in less than two. In cases like this, the probability of it being undercooked was one hundred percent—no, one thousand percent.
Glancing at his wristwatch, Jae-geon’s eyes grew sharper than usual.
“I’ve heard of three servings that look like two, but a ‘three minutes’ that looks like two is a first.”
“Pardon?”
Sure enough, a cloudy, watery juice was dripping from the undercooked scallops. It was a mistake that happened once a day and normally would have ended with a warning, but today, control over his emotions eluded him.
“You want me to serve this garbage?”
The tray containing six pieces of scallops was ruthlessly slammed into the trash can.
Yoo Jae-min’s face went pale, terrified by the harsh reprimand. Jae-geon’s cold gaze bypassed him and landed on Hwi.
“Park Hwi.”
“Yes, Chef. Wait, me?”
“Aren’t you his mentor?”
“Yes, Chef.”
“Train Yoo Jae-min properly before tomorrow’s service. Before I fire both of you together.”
For some reason, a cute face that would likely sear scallops beautifully flashed through his mind, bringing his scolding to an abrupt end.
Jae-geon rubbed his dry face as if to shake off the sudden afterimage, then snapped his fingers.
“Hold Table 11’s Entremet. Hold Table 8’s main course. Park Hwi, get on the scallops.”
With a knock at the door, Jun-won entered the office carrying two glasses of whiskey on the rocks.
“What are you up to?”
Jae-geon hadn’t even noticed him entering, busy checking the order sheets submitted by the Section Chefs of each department. He replied a beat late.
“Reviewing the orders.”
“Geez, they surely did a good job. Do you really have to review every single detail?”
Perhaps he hadn’t heard the order to make Yoo Jae-min practice, but the order for bay scallops was missing. With the general manager missing a screw, it was no wonder the team was running in such a state. Jae-geon clicked his tongue.
Jun-won watched Jae-geon quietly, then asked in a probing tone,
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
“It’s because they take turns doing idiotic things.”
“We’ve gotten by without any issues until now, haven’t we?”
Was that supposed to be a logical argument?
Though it wouldn’t and shouldn’t happen, if they were to lose a Michelin Star, eighty percent of the blame would fall on Cha Jun-won.
Jun-won casually swirled the ice in his glass, took a small sip, and spoke.
“I’m not just talking about today. You were fine for a while after Hae-som left, but lately, you’ve been really on edge.”
At the name that intruded without warning, Jae-geon’s face contorted. “I’m just saying,” Jun-won quickly added with a blunt laugh.
“The passion you had for developing the next quarter’s menu right after launching this one is gone. No mention of pairings or anything. It’s almost November already.”
Had time… really flown by like that?
He had only noticed the weather turning chilly; he hadn’t realized winter was right on their doorstep. No wonder Lee Woon-seop had been begging him for a tasting lately.
“You know we have to pay special attention to desserts and alcohol for the year-end. Would it kill you to help out a bit?”
Was that what Woon-seop had been talking about earlier? Although chatting during service was still out of line, Jae-geon felt his face grow oddly warm.
“Stop whining. Since we’re talking about it, let’s go today.”
“Today?”
“Yeah.”
Putting an otherwise sleepless night to good use didn’t seem like a bad idea.
It was a clear mistake.
“Mr. Lee, I’m here!”
Greeting them warmly, the old man welcomed the two with his usual bright smile. For some reason, his wife was nowhere to be seen.
Perhaps thinking the same thing, Jun-won looked around and asked,
“I guess your wife is already asleep.”
“Yes. She gets a lot of sleep these days. As for snacks…”
Jae-geon politely declined.
“It’s fine. Eating anything at this hour would be a bit heavy on my stomach.”
For some reason, the old man looked clearly flustered, as though he had been given strict orders to serve snacks to his guests. An awkward smile crossed his wrinkled face.
“Well, we recently brought in a new hand in the kitchen, and I was hoping you could give some feedback.”
It wasn’t a difficult request, but he couldn’t help but wonder why a workshop that barely saw guests once or twice a week would need to hire an employee. Noticing his doubtful expression, the old man quickly added,
“I heard she’s Woon-seop’s junior from college.”
Indeed, for chefs of that age aiming for traditional Korean cuisine, there was no better place to learn. Brushing his doubts aside, Jae-geon gave a brief nod.
The old man vanished into the darkness, leaving Jae-geon and Jun-won alone.
Excluding the moju selected for the previous quarter’s pairing, there were about five or six types of warm distilled liquor and cheongju. The one that immediately caught Jae-geon’s eye was the Sogokju.
Although its sweetness might make pairing tricky, its rich umami flavor made it an exquisite digestif to serve after a heavy, greasy meal. Placement-wise, it would be best suited after the main course.
“How is it?”
Instead of answering, Jun-won held back a lukewarm smile and suddenly gestured toward the courtyard.
A small figure was scurrying across the courtyard, carrying a small dining table.
It was hard to see clearly in the darkness, but judging by her build and hand size, she was definitely a woman. Since they said it was Lee Woon-seop’s junior, he had naturally assumed it would be a man. Who would have expected a little tavern keeper smelling of powder?
Declining Jun-won’s offer to take the table for her, the woman climbed onto the wooden veranda herself.
Despite her slightly clumsy, awkward movements, the three-color namul was arranged quite neatly. His gaze lingered on the unfamiliar gratin served beside it.
As if sensing his gaze, the woman gave a coy smile and knelt before the table.
“…”
Was he starting to hallucinate just when he had finally managed to forget her?
The person hovering before him was clearly Song Hae-som, yet she couldn’t be.
Nothing like the girl who used to stir his guilt with her soft, makeup-free face, this woman wore light makeup. The apricot lip gloss suited her fair skin perfectly.
There was no burn scar on the back of the hand peeking out from beneath her sleeve, and her wrist was painfully thin. Hae-som had always been slender, but never this gaunt. This woman wasn’t Song Hae-som. She couldn’t be.
“May I explain the dishes?”
Her faint smile seemed experienced, almost rehearsed.
A sudden heat surged from his lower body as if the floor heating had suddenly been turned on. He didn’t hate the tight tension pulling at his lower back.
Come to think of it, it was a sensation he hadn’t felt in a while. Ever since he had spent himself over her young face, his desire had remained dormant, suppressed by guilt, self-loathing, or perhaps contempt.
Had Cha Jun-won not been there, he was fully prepared to drag her into some back room right then and there to lose themselves in each other. The woman, who kept her eyes fixed on him the entire time, seemed to desire the exact same thing.
The End…
