Jiyeon groaned as she finally dragged herself out of bed the next morning, squinting against the sunlight streaming through the curtains. She could barely remember how she'd managed to fall asleep after her late-night rant about Kang, Yura's teasing, and that final "no way am I picking that up" phone call. Her mind was already occupied with what chaos would await her at the restaurant.
Yawning and stretching, Jiyeon shuffled into the kitchen, her eyes landing on Yura, who sat at the table with a smug, knowing smile, sipping a steaming cup of coffee. It was as if Yura knew what kind of torment awaited her today and was mentally savoring Jiyeon's suffering in advance.
"Morning, sunshine," Yura greeted with a wicked gleam. "Rest well? Dream of kimchi tiramisu?"
Jiyeon scowled, grabbing a cup of coffee. "I had successfully blocked that from my memory, thank you very much."
Yura shrugged, unbothered, and glanced at her watch. "You might want to brace yourself. I heard from Kang around six a.m. Seems he's… energized."
"Oh no," Jiyeon groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "The last thing I need is him caffeinated and inspired."
Yura grinned. "Well, he's likely halfway through designing the latest culinary abomination by now. I'm sure he's counting down the minutes until he can 'revolutionize' the menu."
Jiyeon could only sigh.
Jiyeon took a deep breath, draining her coffee and mentally preparing herself for whatever culinary circus awaited her at the restaurant. With one final eye roll at Yura's smirk, she grabbed her bag, muttering, "If I don't come back, tell everyone Kang drove me to early retirement."
Yura chuckled, blowing her a kiss. "Good luck. May the gods of patience bless you today, Chef."
When Jiyeon arrived at the restaurant, she immediately noticed the chaos: tables were haphazardly arranged, an odd assortment of spices was strewn across the counter, and—oh no—Kang was hunched over a pan, humming to himself while stirring something that smelled oddly like… soy sauce and chocolate?
"Morning, Chef!" Kang's grin was so wide it was almost suspicious. "I had this idea last night for a sweet-and-savory fusion! Picture this: soy sauce and chocolate reduction drizzled over a kimchi panna cotta."
Jiyeon blinked. Once. Twice. She let his words marinate in her mind, hoping they would somehow transform into something reasonable. But, no. "You're telling me," she said slowly, "that you stayed up all night to concoct… that?"
Kang held up the pan proudly, swishing the brownish mixture around. "Yep! Look, Chef, sometimes we have to take risks. Push boundaries!"
"Boundaries?" Jiyeon repeated, her voice dangerously calm. "Kang, I would sooner serve boiled cardboard than whatever that monstrosity is. I mean, did you hit your head? Or was this inspired by your taste in reality shows?"
He looked slightly deflated but rebounded quickly, clearly still brimming with enthusiasm. "Alright, alright. Maybe soy sauce and chocolate are too avant-garde for the clientele. But how about we put a twist on the lobster jeon? I'm thinking… lobster-infused whipped cream."
Jiyeon shot him a look so incredulous that he actually took a step back. "Kang, if I wanted cream and lobster on the same plate, I'd make lobster bisque. Not whatever fever dream you're describing. And don't even think about suggesting kimchi whipped cream; that idea died weeks ago."
Kang grinned sheepishly, clearly undeterred. "Fine. You don't know genius when it's standing right in front of you. But I have other ideas. Have you considered—"
She cut him off with a sharp wave. "Kang, before you give me an aneurysm, do me a favor: go take inventory in the storage room. And maybe… meditate. Realign your chakras. Think about anything that doesn't involve ruining a perfectly good menu."
Kang held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I get it. I'll leave you to your precious 'traditional' flavors."
With Kang finally out of the way, Jiyeon took a deep breath and surveyed the kitchen. It was time to restore order, both to the menu and her sanity. She moved through the kitchen with the focus and precision of a surgeon, tweaking recipes, arranging ingredients, and giving the younger chefs stern yet well-meaning pointers.
An hour into her whirlwind of activity, Jiyeon felt a sudden shift in the room. She looked up to find Yura standing in the doorway, watching her with that ever-present smirk. "Just couldn't resist watching the magic happen, could you?" Jiyeon said, raising an eyebrow.
Yura sauntered over, examining the chaos with a mix of amusement and something else—something Jiyeon couldn't quite place. "I wanted to make sure you were still alive. Kang's texts were… concerning."
Jiyeon scoffed, wiping her hands on her apron. "If he suggests one more bizarre fusion, I'm banning him from the kitchen. I swear he's going to pitch kimchi brownies next."
Yura snorted, covering her mouth. "I'd almost pay to see that."
They stood together in silence for a moment, just taking in the bustling energy around them. Jiyeon found herself relaxing in Yura's presence, a subtle but comforting reminder that, despite the absurdity, she was doing what she loved.
Yura leaned in closer, voice softening just enough for Jiyeon to catch the hint of warmth in her words. "You're really in your element here, aren't you?"
Jiyeon glanced at her, surprised by the seriousness in Yura's tone. "I guess I am. This is… home. Even with Kang trying to sabotage my sanity every other day."
Yura chuckled but didn't say more. Instead, she picked up an apron from the counter, slipping it on as though she were born to be in the kitchen.
Jiyeon's eyebrows shot up. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Oh, you know," Yura said, feigning innocence. "Thought I'd lend a hand. I'd hate for Kang's next 'inspired' idea to slip through while you're distracted."
Jiyeon stifled a laugh. "You? Cooking? This should be entertaining."
Yura gave her a mock glare. "I'll have you know I can cook. I've mastered the art of instant ramen and can boil water like a pro."
Jiyeon snickered. "Right, so if we need emergency noodles, I'll know who to call."
Yura rolled her eyes and moved toward the cutting board, picking up a knife with a level of seriousness that bordered on ridiculous. "Point me in the direction of something I can chop."
With a sigh that was half-exasperation, half-amusement, Jiyeon handed Yura a pile of green onions. "Here. Just… chop these. Evenly, if that's possible."
Yura nodded, going at it with exaggerated concentration, as if performing surgery rather than dicing onions. Jiyeon watched, barely holding back laughter as Yura's brow furrowed in fierce determination.
A few minutes in, Yura held up a mangled slice. "There. Perfect."
Jiyeon examined the slice, biting her lip to keep from laughing. "Sure, if we were aiming for abstract onion art."
"Critic," Yura muttered, tossing the chopped onions into a bowl. "Next time, I'll charge for my services."
"I'd rather save my money," Jiyeon retorted, finally letting herself laugh. "But keep going, you're doing… moderately okay."
Before she knew it, Kang reappeared, carrying a clipboard and looking slightly disappointed. "Chef, I've done inventory. Twice. Can I pitch another idea yet?"
Jiyeon held up a hand to stop him. "Absolutely not."
He deflated, casting a sidelong glance at Yura's questionable chopping job. "So, we're just… letting her in the kitchen now?"
"Oh, don't start," Yura shot back, folding her arms. "I'm perfectly capable of… not setting things on fire. Mostly."
Kang raised his eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. "Right. I'll believe that when I see it."
Jiyeon intervened before a full-blown insult war could erupt. "Kang, why don't you, uh, go check on the front setup? And make sure the table placements haven't moved even a centimeter."
Kang grumbled, muttering something about "control freaks" but complied, leaving Jiyeon and Yura alone again.
Jiyeon let out a long-suffering sigh as she watched Kang retreat. "If he survives this week without me strangling him, it'll be a miracle."
Yura smirked. "You're both stubborn. No wonder he's half-terrified and half-obsessed with impressing you."
Jiyeon shook her head. "If he really wanted to impress me, he'd stop trying to turn every dish into some Frankenstein creation."
They shared a quiet chuckle, falling back into a comfortable rhythm as they worked side by side, Yura's half-hearted attempts at "helping" somehow managing not to ruin anything.
As the prep work wound down, Jiyeon couldn't help but glance over at Yura's earnest, if slightly wonky, efforts. She reached out, brushing a stray piece of chopped green onion from Yura's shoulder.
"Not bad, for a ramen chef," Jiyeon teased softly, her lips curving into a smile.
Yura feigned offense, but her eyes sparkled. "I'll take that as the highest praise, Chef Lee."
Jiyeon laughed, shaking her head. "Alright, next time, maybe we'll graduate you to… stirring soup."
Yura rolled her eyes, leaning closer. "Only if you can handle the heat of having me in your kitchen, Chef."
Jiyeon raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. "Oh, I can handle anything you throw at me. Question is, can you keep up?"
Yura stepped even closer, their faces inches apart. "Challenge accepted. But if I end up mastering your precious kitchen, you owe me a dinner date—cooked by you, with all the bells and whistles."
Jiyeon chuckled, crossing her arms. "Fine. But don't cry to me when you end up chopping onions all night."
"Bring it on," Yura shot back, her grin mischievous.
They held each other's gaze for a long moment before Kang coughed loudly. "Are we cooking, or starring in a romance drama?"