As the night drew on, the unofficial truce between Jiyeon and Kang was beginning to fray, held together by little more than the exhaustion and caffeine coursing through their veins. Yura, already sensing the fragility of the peace she'd demanded, eyed both of them suspiciously over her coffee. A raised eyebrow here, a sideways glance there; it was like she was refereeing a silent boxing match, waiting for the next verbal jab to be thrown.
The three sat around Yura and Jiyeon's cozy living room, which looked deceptively calm, almost like a museum piece. The mantle was stacked with carefully curated knick-knacks and, because it was still technically autumn, an army of decorative gourds lined the table, staring them down. Yura's designer touch was evident everywhere, from the pristine throw blankets to the alphabetically organized shelf of coffee table books — none of which had ever actually been opened.
"Alright, 'Chef Supreme,'" Jiyeon teased, side-eyeing Kang while sipping her tea. "Since we're on a truce, tell us something we don't know. Any wild stories from culinary school? Or was it all just the typical 'pretend you're not suffering' act?"
Kang leaned back, stretching out with exaggerated ease. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know? But no, you wouldn't last a day in those kitchens, Jiyeon. It's a battlefield out there. Only the strong survive."
"Only the arrogant survive, apparently," she retorted, leaning forward to poke him in the arm with her chopsticks. "I've worked in tough kitchens, too, Kang. You think you invented long hours and angry chefs?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe I just perfected the art. Anyway, did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally set Chef Marco's prized soufflé on fire?"
Yura's eyes lit up with interest, her previous irritation dissolving into curiosity. "I knew you had a rebellious side. Go on."
Kang chuckled, putting on a mock expression of horror as he started his story. "Alright, picture this. It's the final semester, we're all stressed beyond belief, and Chef Marco — this god-tier, ego-heavy maniac — decides he's going to put me in charge of a soufflé. Mind you, this is a dish I'd barely even looked at before. So, I follow the recipe down to the letter, put it in the oven, and, well… let's just say it did not come out looking like the textbook example."
Yura's laugh was barely contained, and Jiyeon wasn't far behind. "Did it collapse?" Jiyeon asked, eyes bright with anticipation.
"Oh, it collapsed, alright," Kang replied, sighing with theatrical tragedy. "Collapsed, caught fire, and then — because that wasn't bad enough — the fire alarm went off, and the whole kitchen was evacuated. Chef Marco looked at me like I'd personally offended every culinary god in existence."
Yura was practically wheezing with laughter, and Jiyeon shook her head in mock pity. "That," she said between giggles, "is poetic justice. Didn't think you could ruin a soufflé that badly."
"Oh, laugh it up, Jiyeon," Kang said, waving his hand dismissively. "Like you've never had a kitchen disaster of your own?"
She hesitated for a split second, clearly debating whether or not to share, and then gave a resigned shrug. "Fine. I once mistook salt for sugar in my early days. Made a whole batch of salted vanilla cupcakes."
Kang slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laugh, but it escaped anyway. "A rookie mistake, Jiyeon. I'd expect nothing less."
"Oh, come on," Jiyeon said, flicking a crumb in his direction. "It was years ago. And, to my credit, I didn't set anything on fire."
Yura, feeling braver than before, interrupted their bickering with a mischievous grin. "Alright, here's one for you both. If you had to open a restaurant together, what would it be called?"
The room fell silent as both chefs seemed to weigh the idea. The thought of collaborating was more amusing than realistic, yet it sparked an undeniable curiosity.
After a long pause, Jiyeon smirked. "How about Clash of Egos?"
Kang's laugh was instant. "More like The Inferno. Or maybe just Kitchen Chaos."
Yura raised an eyebrow. "Not the most marketable names, but they're honest. Though, I can't help but wonder — who would actually survive that partnership?"
Jiyeon turned to Kang, eyes glinting with challenge. "Well, Kang might think he's the best, but he wouldn't last a day trying to manage both the food and the restaurant's personality. That's where I'd come in."
Kang rolled his eyes. "Please, Jiyeon. I've handled worse. You'd be the one trying to wrangle all those egos."
"Oh, I'd wrangle alright," she muttered, barely hiding her grin.
Just as the conversation hit its peak, there was a loud thump from the hall closet, immediately drawing their attention.
"What was that?" Yura asked, eyes wide.
Kang leaned in, pretending to whisper conspiratorially. "You didn't tell me this place was haunted."
"Haunted by your cooking disasters, maybe," Jiyeon shot back with a smirk.
But Yura was already getting up to investigate. She opened the closet slowly, revealing an avalanche of winter coats and a rogue vacuum cleaner that toppled out. The three of them stared at it in dead silence for a moment before bursting into laughter.
"Honestly, Jiyeon, this is what happens when you try to hide things instead of deal with them," Kang teased.
"Please," Jiyeon replied, folding her arms. "It's a closet, not the black hole of your ego."
Yura, still chuckling, shut the closet door with a finality that spoke of years of barely-contained chaos lurking just beneath the surface. "Alright, alright, enough. Both of you have officially exhausted my patience. Time for a break — or I swear, I'll lock you both in there."
"Oh, the horror," Kang said dryly, though he seemed more amused than alarmed.
Yura shot him a withering look. "Believe me, Kang, it's a terrifying experience."
Kang raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning from ear to ear. "Noted. But let's face it, Yura — you couldn't live without our banter. We make things interesting."
Jiyeon nodded. "He's got a point. We're like your personal entertainment service."
With a sigh, Yura took a seat, sipping her coffee. "Yes, my life was so dull before the two of you came along. How did I survive without this level of chaos?"
"You didn't," Jiyeon replied, giving her a small, genuine smile.
"Glad we could help, then," Kang said, equally genuine for once.
Yura settled back into her seat, watching the two chefs with a wry smile. Despite the constant bickering and insults, there was something almost comforting about their banter — like they were two sides of the same coin. Jiyeon's calm focus and Kang's brash confidence balanced each other out in the strangest way, like two mismatched ingredients that somehow made a dish work.
"So, let's say you two were actually running a restaurant together," Yura said, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "Who would do what?"
Jiyeon smirked. "Easy. I'd handle all the logistics — menu creation, ingredient sourcing, training the staff to be actually competent…"
Kang snorted, feigning offense. "Oh please. And I'd be the one bringing the real talent to the table. Someone's got to charm the guests, keep the energy high, make sure it's more than just a bland, by-the-numbers establishment. That's called vision, Jiyeon."
"Vision?" Jiyeon scoffed. "More like vanity. Your 'vision' would bankrupt us in a week. Fancy ingredients, flashy presentations… and no substance."
"Substance?" Kang shot back, grinning. "This coming from Miss Minimalist Cuisine herself. You'd have us serving five carefully arranged peas on a plate and calling it revolutionary."
Yura suppressed a laugh, sipping her coffee as they continued.
Jiyeon rolled her eyes. "Flash isn't the same as flavor, Kang. Real cooking comes from the heart, not just a fireworks display. You'd learn that if you weren't so focused on impressing everyone all the time."
"Bold of you to assume people aren't impressed by my cooking, Jiyeon," he shot back, crossing his arms. "I'll have you know that my dishes leave a lasting impression."
"Probably because they come with a lecture on how great you are," she retorted.
Yura, finally breaking, set her cup down with a dramatic sigh. "Alright, alright, I get it. You're both amazing chefs with big personalities. But hypothetically, if I were the restaurant's owner, what would you need from me to make this 'visionary' partnership work?"
Jiyeon leaned forward, putting on a faux-serious expression. "Easy. A lot of patience and a fire extinguisher on standby. Maybe a crash course in conflict resolution."
Kang chimed in, leaning back with a grin. "And maybe a good set of earplugs, just in case."
Yura shook her head, laughing. "So I'd be more of a referee than a manager?"
"Exactly," they both said in unison, exchanging a surprised look before quickly looking away.
With a mock sigh, Yura shook her head, pretending to mull over her "role" in this imaginary restaurant. "So I'm the one keeping you two from going at each other's throats, while making sure the place doesn't actually burn down. Sounds like a full-time job."
"Oh, it would be," Jiyeon said, nodding solemnly. "Especially if Kang's involved."
"Hey!" Kang protested, though there was no heat behind it. "I resent that."
Yura gave him a teasing smile. "Maybe you should. Between Jiyeon's strict standards and your tendency to, uh, 'improvise,' I'd have my hands full."
Kang laughed, throwing up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Fine, fine. But let's be honest, Yura — you wouldn't have it any other way."
"Is that so?" Yura raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"Absolutely," Jiyeon cut in, a mischievous smirk on her face. "Without us, your life would be boring. Admit it."
Yura gave a dramatic sigh, glancing between the two of them. "You know, it's funny. I used to think peace and quiet were overrated. Now I know they're downright mythical."
They all laughed, and for a moment, the room felt warm and alive, like they really were part of some kind of dysfunctional family. The jabs, the banter — it was all part of a rhythm they'd fallen into, and despite everything, there was an undeniable closeness between them.
After a moment, Yura leaned forward, her expression softening. "But seriously, if you two ever did open a restaurant together, I'd be the first one through the door."
Kang raised his cup in mock toast. "Here's to the restaurant that will never be. Long may it live in our imaginations."
Jiyeon clinked her cup against his. "Hear, hear. The hypothetical restaurant — a place of pure chaos and questionable business choices."
Yura laughed, shaking her head. "If it ever actually happened, it would probably go down in flames. But hey, at least you'd have fun doing it."
They all chuckled, and for a moment, everything felt strangely right.