The moment had finally arrived. Jiyeon, despite Yura's best efforts to keep her out of the restaurant for the night, was back at the helm, overseeing every tiny detail of the dinner at The Rose Manor. Her eyes scanned the room like a hawk, laser-focused on the grand dining hall that was slowly filling with guests. The soft hum of chatter mixed with the clinking of glasses created a refined, elegant atmosphere—exactly what she had envisioned.
Yet somehow, Jiyeon still found herself annoyed. "Why is that candle tilted?" she muttered to herself, narrowing her eyes at the center table, her fingers twitching as if they were aching to fix it.
"Relax, Chef," Kang whispered as he came up behind her, balancing a tray of hors d'oeuvres. "No one's going to notice the angle of a damn candle."
"If I noticed, someone else will too," Jiyeon shot back, her voice a mix of frustration and anxiety.
Kang snorted. "Yeah, maybe one of the five hundred food critics you've somehow invited to this thing. Did you send personal invites, or are they just drawn to your obsessive perfectionism like moths to a flame?"
"Shut up, Kang, or I'll shove that tray of lobster jeon right where the sun doesn't shine."
He smirked. "As long as I get a bite first."
Yura, standing at the entrance and greeting guests as they trickled in, caught sight of Jiyeon's neurotic pacing and gave a quick, knowing smile. She walked over, dressed in a sleek midnight-blue dress that made more than a few heads turn. "I see you couldn't stay away," she remarked, her voice teasing but warm.
Jiyeon groaned, rubbing her temples. "Of course I couldn't. You saw what happened the last time I left Kang in charge. I came back and the napkins were folded like paper airplanes."
Kang's voice cut in. "Hey, those airplanes were aerodynamic masterpieces. If the food was bad, at least people could entertain themselves."
Yura chuckled, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You have to admit, that would make for an interesting dining experience."
Jiyeon turned to her, deadpan. "If by 'interesting,' you mean 'disastrous,' then sure."
"Speaking of disasters," Yura said, gesturing toward the kitchen, "I hear our dear Chef Kang nearly burned the crème brûlée."
Kang rolled his eyes. "I didn't 'nearly' burn anything! The torch just slipped for a second. A second, Jiyeon."
"That's all it takes," Jiyeon replied, her tone icy. "One second, and suddenly our dessert is a pile of ashes."
Yura winked at Kang. "I think you just like the drama, Jiyeon. Without it, you'd be bored."
Jiyeon let out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh yes, because I just love hovering on the edge of culinary disaster. It really spices up my life."
Yura leaned in, lowering her voice just enough for Jiyeon to hear. "Well, you do seem to enjoy being...in control."
Jiyeon's eyes widened for a split second before she turned on her heel. "You," she pointed at Kang, "get back to the kitchen and make sure the next course is ready to go. And you," she looked back at Yura, who was stifling a laugh, "stop flirting with me when I'm trying to prevent this dinner from crashing and burning."
Kang gave a mock salute. "Yes, Chef," he said, disappearing into the kitchen with a wide grin on his face.
As Jiyeon continued her rounds, making sure every plate and piece of silverware was in perfect alignment, the first course of the evening was being served: the kimchi-stuffed escargot. Servers moved fluidly between tables, placing the delicately arranged plates in front of the guests.
Yura watched, impressed, as people marveled at the unusual combination. "You've got them hooked already," she whispered, leaning closer to Jiyeon, who was trying very hard to appear calm, even though she was anxiously watching the guests' every reaction.
"I just hope they appreciate the balance of the flavors," Jiyeon muttered, crossing her arms. "Kimchi and escargot isn't exactly traditional, you know."
Yura smirked. "That's what makes it brilliant."
Just then, a man at one of the tables a well-known food critic with a notorious reputation for being impossible to please picked up his fork and took a cautious bite. Jiyeon held her breath, her eyes never leaving him. For a moment, the critic's face remained neutral, and then...he smiled.
Jiyeon let out a sigh of relief. "Well, that's one hurdle down."
Kang suddenly reappeared from the kitchen, holding up a dish with a flourish. "And here comes the next one," he announced dramatically. "Gochujang-infused coq au vin, made with love, sweat, and probably a few tears."
"Mostly my tears," Jiyeon muttered under her breath.
As the servers began placing the second course in front of the guests, Jiyeon glanced nervously at Yura. "Do you think the spice level is too much? I wanted a kick, but not, you know, murder your taste buds kind of kick."
Yura smiled and gently squeezed Jiyeon's shoulder. "It's perfect. You've tasted it a million times. Trust yourself."
Jiyeon exhaled, nodding, but her nerves were still buzzing. She watched as the guests dug into the coq au vin, waiting for some kind of reaction good or bad. Moments passed, and once again, she noticed the critics exchanging pleased glances, nodding subtly to each other.
Kang sidled up beside her, raising an eyebrow. "See? They're not dead. That's a good sign, right?"
Jiyeon shot him a look. "I swear, if you jinx this, I'll bury you in the garden out back."
He grinned. "I'll die knowing I ate some damn good food, though."
Yura chuckled at their banter, her hand sliding down to gently rest on the small of Jiyeon's back. "You're doing great. Now maybe take a breath before you pass out from stress."
"I can't relax yet," Jiyeon replied, her voice tight. "There's still the lobster jeon, and don't even get me started on the mille-feuille. One mistake, and this whole thing will—"
"Will be a huge success," Yura interrupted firmly. "Jiyeon, look at them. They're loving it. You've got this."
Jiyeon paused, her eyes scanning the room once more. She saw the smiles, the conversations flowing easily between bites of her food, the unmistakable satisfaction on people's faces. Maybe Yura was right. Maybe she had pulled it off.
Just as she began to let herself relax just a little Kang appeared again, holding a platter. "By the way, Chef, we're out of the special garnish for the jeon."
Jiyeon's eyes widened. "What do you mean, 'out'?! How are we out of garnish?"
Kang shrugged. "Guess we underestimated the demand. I told you the garnish portions were too small."
Jiyeon let out a string of curses under her breath before turning to Yura. "This is your fault."
Yura raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "How exactly is this my fault?"
"Because you distracted me when we were planning! With your...your...face."
Kang burst out laughing. "Oh man, that's a new one. 'Yura's face ruined the garnish count!'"
Jiyeon glared at both of them, her cheeks turning a faint shade of red. "Both of you, shut up. We need to improvise." She glanced around, her mind racing. "What about microgreens? We've still got some of those, right?"
Kang nodded. "Yeah, we can make it work."
"Good," Jiyeon said, already moving toward the kitchen. "Because if we don't, I'm going to turn this into a very public execution."
Yura smirked, watching her storm off. "She's going to kill us both before the night's over, isn't she?"
Kang grinned. "At least we'll die full."
Kang laughed as Jiyeon disappeared into the kitchen, her determination palpable even through the clanging of pots and pans behind her. Yura remained where she was, her lips quirking up in amusement as she watched Jiyeon throw herself into crisis mode once again. It was almost a comfort at this point—knowing that even in moments of complete chaos, Jiyeon's obsessive nature would always pull through. Yura found it endearing, though she'd never admit that out loud.
Kang leaned on the nearest table, crossing his arms casually. "You think she's actually going to come out of this unscathed? Because I'm taking bets. Five to one she gives herself a headache before dessert."
Yura smiled, glancing at him. "I wouldn't bet against her. Jiyeon might look like she's on the verge of a meltdown, but she thrives in it. You've seen it yourself."
"Oh, I have," Kang said with a grin, "but that doesn't mean I won't enjoy watching her fight every single garnish crisis like it's the end of the world."
"True." Yura's eyes softened as she continued to watch the door to the kitchen. "It's just who she is. She can't help but care about every little thing."
"And we love her for it," Kang added with a shrug. "Even if she's threatening to end us on a daily basis."
Yura chuckled, shaking her head. "She's not the only one. You've been on her nerves all night."
"Hey, someone's got to keep her grounded," Kang said with a wink. "Besides, what's life without a little bit of chaos?"
Before Yura could respond, the door to the kitchen swung open again, and Jiyeon re-emerged with a plate in hand, looking more focused than ever. "Crisis averted," she announced, holding up the dish like a trophy. "The lobster jeon is going out with microgreens instead of the garnish. No one will know the difference."
Kang gave a low whistle. "Look at you, always saving the day."
"Don't start," Jiyeon muttered, but there was a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I swear, if one more thing goes wrong tonight, I'm going to—"
Yura leaned in, cutting her off with a light kiss on the cheek. "You're doing amazing."
Jiyeon's flustered expression returned immediately, but she couldn't help but relax, if only for a moment. "Yeah, well… don't distract me with your face again, okay?"
Kang snorted. "Too late for that."