Chapter 16
Kim Hyeyoon opened her eyes.
A pure white ceiling. The smell of disinfectant.
“This is……a hospital?”
Jolt!
She sat up.
This was bad. How long had she been asleep?
She fumbled around for her phone.
[Director Yoon: Get some good rest and come in to work. Don't worry about anything else.]
Ah... right.
She had collapsed in the kitchen yesterday.
Only then did yesterday's events come back to her vaguely.
The hotel kitchen, the people who had come to custom-fit her a knife.
And after that... the memory was blurry.
But.
Something was off.
Her body... felt light.
Her always leaden shoulders felt impossibly light, and her head was clear.
The throbbing headache that had been pressing down on her was gone.
'...I didn't have a nightmare.'
The nightmares that came every time she laid her head on a pillow. The eyes that flew open every dawn as if trapped in sleep paralysis.
Even that creepy feeling.
She couldn't even remember the last time she'd slept this deeply.
Her gaze drifted unconsciously to her right hand.
Hyeyoon cautiously turned her wrist inward, then outward.
“...Huh?”
It didn't hurt.
That unpleasant pain that had come from deep within the joint was gone, as if it had been a lie.
She clenched and unclenched her fingers.
She even bent her wrist lightly.
...Nothing was wrong.
'...Maybe because I rested?'
Even as she thought that, she couldn't shake a nagging unease.
*
After finishing the discharge procedures, she headed straight for the restaurant.
The director had texted her to rest at home, but she couldn't just lie still. The event was right around the corner.
The streets slipped past outside the taxi window.
...It was strange.
When she thought back on the past few weeks, she couldn't believe how normal she felt now.
The first time she'd seen it was a few weeks ago.
The kitchen was in full dinner service.
When the back of her neck suddenly went cold and she looked up, something with long black hair hanging down was dangling near the ceiling vent.
She screamed and toppled backward.
When she looked again, there was nothing there.
“...”
As she awkwardly tried to get back up, her wrist ached.
She must have slipped and braced herself against the floor.
Still, it didn't seem like she'd been seriously hurt.
The hospital said there was nothing wrong. They said it would get better with a little rest.
She thought it was just because she'd been too tired. Given how much she'd pushed herself lately, it made sense she'd see things.
And so she brushed it off without a second thought.
The problem started that night.
The nightmares began.
Every night, something climbed onto her chest and pressed down on her. When she opened her eyes, that long-haired woman she'd seen before was grinning grotesquely right in front of her.
“Haah... haah...”
She woke drenched in cold sweat every dawn, and after that she couldn't fall asleep again.
Because she couldn't sleep like that, the wrist that was supposed to get better with rest showed no sign of healing.
Her knife cuts went off.
The seasoning went off.
For a perfectionist like her,
it was intolerable to the point she despised herself.
Above all, she couldn't let anyone find out.
Twenty-eight.
She was the youngest head chef in this kitchen.
She had been the youngest sous-chef at a famous Michelin-starred restaurant overseas.
[Genius Chef] and [Michelin's Rising Star]—those kinds of labels had started following her around then.
And Director Yoon, who had visited at the time, personally recruited her.
But that position was really a sheet of thin ice.
A head chef in a hotel kitchen at twenty-eight? That had never happened in Korea before.
Naturally, there was a lot of opposition.
They said she was an untested kid put in too high a position. That just because she'd had some overseas experience didn't mean she could do everything.
It was Director Yoon who went against that opposition and put her there.
But Director Yoon himself had risen to that position at one of the youngest ages in the industry.
So when someone like that deliberately made a young chef the head, people didn't take the appointment as a simple recruitment.
That age and seniority weren't what mattered,
only skill did.
People thought Director Yoon had put her there to make exactly that point.
So everyone was watching her.
Whether the young chef called a genius really lived up to the name, or when her true colors would be exposed.
What kind of head chef was she at that age? She'd just gotten lucky. She'd crumble before long.
Under those eyes, not even a single mistake was allowed.
The moment she slipped even once, they'd pounce as if they'd been waiting for it.
They would try to drag her out of that seat.
And maybe then even Director Yoon wouldn't be able to shield her anymore.
So the fact that her wrist was shaking...
that she was tormented by hallucinations every night, she couldn't tell anyone.
The moment she said it, it would be over.
But.
Hiding it didn't mean it was hidden.
Her mistakes became more frequent.
It was a subtle tremor others wouldn't notice, but Hyeyoon knew.
The number of times her knife tip went astray was increasing day by day.
And.
“...Hyeyoon. Is something going on lately?”
Director Yoon was the only one who eventually noticed.
The dark circles that had grown noticeably deeper at some point. The fingertips that occasionally hesitated.
He didn't miss those little signs.
Of course, Hyeyoon firmly said no.
She said she was just a little tired. Just on edge from preparing for the event.
But after that,
strange people started coming and going in the kitchen.
She couldn't possibly not notice.
Because strange people had been coming and going through the kitchen and the dining hall countless times ever since some point.
An old man who lit incense and chanted unknown spells. People who went around sticking talisman-like strips in every corner of the walls.
She let out a wry laugh.
Apparently, the director seemed to believe in shamanism a bit.
...What kind of nonsense is that.
This is all my fault.
Yeah. I know.
It's just because I overworked myself. Because I couldn't manage my condition. Because my mental state is garbage.
The nightmares, the wrist, the trembling hand. All of it.
...But.
'...But what the hell was that thing back then?'
Suddenly, yesterday's events come to mind.
Since he was supposed to be a knife craftsman, she figured that was that. But then even the young man suddenly pulled some strange talisman-like thing from his clothes.
'What now, again? ...Surely he didn't put something weird inside the knife, right?'
Just as she was growing suspicious,
the world flashed white—
and then she lost consciousness.
“...”
Hyeyoon quietly shook her head.
It'll be nothing.
Well, the hospital said nothing was wrong too.
Besides, today she had slept soundly and woken up like it was all a lie.
She'd be fine.
...She was definitely fine.
*
She'd thought the kitchen would be empty this early, but the lights were already on.
“Oh my, Chef. You're already here?”
The woman leaning against one side of the prep counter turned around. The sous-chef, Kang Mirae.
She was seven years older than Hyeyoon. And she was also the veteran closest to the head-chef position. At least, until Hyeyoon took that seat.
“I heard you collapsed yesterday, Chef.”
Mirae approached with a blatantly worried expression.
“Oh dear, you have no idea how worried I was when I heard yesterday. Are you feeling better now?”
Her voice was utterly gentle.
But Hyeyoon knew. By now that remark had probably spread through the entire kitchen. How the story of the young head chef who had finally collapsed right before an important event had swollen as it passed from mouth to mouth.
“...I'm fine. I just got a little lightheaded.”
“Really? You're not pushing yourself too hard, are you?”
Mirae's eyes curved softly.
“You can't overdo it. Without you, the rest of us are nothing, you know.”
Sweetly.
Mirae was always like that.
Even though she was far older, she would smile warmly and come over to her.
...Now that she thought about it, yes.
In that kitchen where everyone folded their arms and waited for her to fall,
Mirae was the only one who had ever been on her side.
When she first took over as head and everything was unfamiliar and as uncomfortable as sitting on thorns, it was Mirae who had come up and quietly taken care of things for her.
So among everyone in this kitchen, Hyeyoon let herself lean on Mirae the most.
“So, Chef...”
Mirae tilted her head slightly and smiled.
“Should I handle the main dish today?”
“…….”
Handing off the main for one day,
wasn't actually that big of a deal.
It was common for the sous-chef to take the main.
...If it were normal, that would have been one thing.
But ever since becoming head, Hyeyoon had never once handed the main to someone else and stepped back, not for a single day.
Overseeing the entire kitchen, barking orders at the staff, inspecting ingredients, and personally keeping an eye on every last plate.
She did everything a head chef had to do without fail, yet she never let go of the one knife that mattered most.
To keep people from calling her young. To prove herself with skill.
She had always handled the most important work with her own hands.
And now, of all things, the very next day after collapsing.
If she handed the main to the sous-chef.
How would those eyes watching her now take that?
...There was no need to imagine it.
Mirae's kindness was appreciated.
But that was exactly why she couldn't accept it.
“...Thank you for worrying about me, Mirae.”
Hyeyoon smiled calmly.
“But I'm fine. I'll handle the main.”
Maybe it was just her imagination, but Mirae's smile seemed to stiffen ever so slightly for a moment.
But it soon curved softly again.
“...Of course. Of course Chef should do it~”
Hyeyoon gave a light laugh and headed toward the prep station she always used.
She said that, but honestly, her hand still bothered her.
Was it really okay?
Even if it had been fine in the morning, there was no telling whether her wrist would start hurting again the moment she picked up a knife.
She decided she'd try holding a knife once before service started today.
And then she stood in front of the prep counter.
“...Huh?”
Instead of her old knife bag, which should have been on the counter, there was an unfamiliar luxurious paulownia-wood box.
And in front of it.
“Ah, Chef. You're here. How are you feeling?”
It was the broker Seo Jian, the woman she'd last seen right before collapsing yesterday.
And beside her stood a man in a loose T-shirt with his face covered by a black mask—Master Do.
***
“...Huh?”
The chef widened her eyes as she approached the counter.
I gave a light nod in greeting.
I had stayed up all night.
Once I started hammering in front of the forge, I just couldn't stop.
It was so fun engraving the circuits I'd designed in my head into a single knife without tangling them that I lost track of time.
It was like an instant puzzle speedrun.
The result?
Naturally, I was extremely satisfied.
I was eager to hear the customer's feedback, so I'd badgered Jian early in the morning and come barging into the hotel kitchen.
“How are you feeling?”
“Ah... yes. Thanks to you, I rested well. But what brings you here this early?”
“The kitchen knife you requested yesterday is finished, so I brought it.”
“What? Already?”
The chef's face was clearly flustered.
Of course she would be.
She'd requested it yesterday afternoon, and I brought it before a full day had even passed, right at the morning clock-in time.
She probably thought I'd roughly polished up a factory-made off-the-shelf product and brought it over.
Without a word, I opened the lid of the paulownia box.
Swoosh—
A single chef's knife lay atop black velvet.
The kitchen's fluorescent light flowed softly over the smoothly forged blade.
At the end of the handle was an embedded spirit stone with the faintest bluish tint.
“...”
The chef's gaze locked onto the knife and froze. The eyes of the woman watching from behind—probably the sous-chef—also widened with curiosity.
“First, try holding it.”
At my suggestion, the chef carefully gripped the handle. The moment she lifted the knife,
“...Huh?”
a dumb little sound slipped from the chef's mouth.
She couldn't help being surprised.
The [Weight-Reduction Circuit] was working, dispersing the weight of the steel so it felt as light as a feather.
On top of that, I'd adjusted the balance to match her cramped wrist muscles and small frame with pinpoint precision.
It was probably a grip she'd never experienced in her life before.
“Is there anything I can try cutting?”
At my words, the chef nodded dazedly and reached toward the pile of green onions stacked nearby.
...Then a hard old pumpkin caught my eye beside it.
“Use that one.”
“Pardon?”
When the chef's eyes landed on the old pumpkin, she gave an awkward little smile.
Obvious.
Her wrist wasn't in good shape, so she probably didn't want to touch anything that would strain it.
But I was confident.
“Trust me and give it a try.”
“Ah...”
The chef stole a quick glance at the sous-chef beside her.
Then the sous-chef smiled sweetly, the corners of her mouth lifting.
“Come onnn~ Chef, give it a tryyy~”
Reluctantly, she placed an old pumpkin on the cutting board.
Thud.
Even the sound it made when it hit the cutting board made it seem hard.
Normally, it was a tough ingredient that would require quite a bit of wrist strength to cut through.
“Then... I'll try cutting it.”
She carefully lifted the knife.
And the moment she lightly drew the blade down toward the pumpkin,
Swish—
the [Auto-Balance Circuit] and minute spiritual-force corrections gathered at the tip, and the blade passed through the pumpkin without any resistance, as if slicing through empty air.
Clack.
The pumpkin split exactly in half and collapsed to either side of the board.
The cross-section was smooth as a glass marble.
“...?”
The chef froze.
She looked back and forth between the pumpkin on the board and the knife in her hand.
She looked as if she couldn't understand what she'd just done.
...Kyaa.
This is it.
Exactly the look you get when you hand a newbie an endgame item for the first time.
It's worth making things just to see that face.
If he hadn't come wearing a mask, the grin at the corners of his mouth would have shown plain as day.
*
Meanwhile, Hyeyoon had no interest in Do-hyun's expression in front of her.
'What is this...?'
No force went into her wrist at all.
Far from hurting, even the sensation that she'd just made a cut was faint.
It was lighter than slicing tofu.
'Wait a second.'
Her hand moved as if possessed.
She pulled over a thick radish piled to the side and a chunk of meat with tough sinew.
Thud, thud, thud, thud—!
The chef's hand began moving so fast it was nearly invisible.
Every slice cut the ingredients into eerily uniform sizes.
Nothing stuck to the blade.
This was insane.
“Crazy...”
...Yeah, it was crazy.
Uhehehe.
...Ah, this won't do. I keep letting laughter leak out.
Hehe, hehe.
At the rough exclamation that slipped from the sous-chef watching from behind, Do-hyun savored the thrill inwardly.
Exactly.
The head chef in front of him was probably showing off flawless skill as if the god of kitchen knives himself had descended.
“Haa, haa...”
After wildly hacking at the cutting board for a while, the chef stopped moving, panting hard.
The wrist pain that had been tormenting her left not even a trace.
If anything, there was an overwhelming sense of unity, as if the knife and her arm had become one.
Her eyes trembled slightly, then turned toward Do-hyun with a face full of shock.
“Um. What on earth... did you do to this knife?”
She asked as if she were holding an artifact cursed with some terrifying black magic.
What did I do?
It was just the basic kitchen-knife setup, same as always.
'Ahem.'
At times like this, there's a standard line.
Do-hyun shrugged and answered carelessly, as if it were nothing.
“I just reduced the weight a bit so your wrist wouldn't hurt as much, and adjusted the balance.”
“...What? This?”
“Ah, and one more thing.”
“You won't need to sharpen this knife. For about three months, maybe? If it ever suddenly feels heavy or doesn't cut well, give me a call. I'll handle the after-sales service.”
“What? You mean it doesn't need sharpening...?”
“After-sales service is a paid service? Then, cook well.”
I'd said everything I needed to say, so I should head up to the suite and get some sleep.
Leaving the dazed, frozen chef and sous-chef behind, Do-hyun rubbed his still-sleepy eyes and casually walked out of the kitchen.
“D-Do-hyun-nim! Let's go together!”
Seo Jian hurried after him.
It was the perfect first commission delivery.