The afternoon sun filtered through the windows as Jiyeon, Kang, and Yura sat at the sprawling dining table. Kang had arrived under the pretense of helping Jiyeon experiment with new recipes, though his "help" typically involved eating, complaining, and occasionally offering advice with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.
Jiyeon was busily arranging her ingredients, face set in deep concentration as she calculated the precise measurements, while Kang lounged beside her, clearly itching to criticize. Yura watched with a bemused expression, casually flipping through her phone.
"So, what's on the menu for today, Chef?" Kang asked, lazily drumming his fingers on the table. "Another one of your minimalist masterpieces? Maybe three baby carrots and a sprig of parsley this time?"
"Real original, Kang," Jiyeon retorted, not even looking up. "If I wanted someone to roast me, I'd hire a professional."
Kang grinned, unfazed. "A professional? Please, I'm worth a dozen of them. Also, don't think I haven't noticed your lack of seasoning, Jiyeon. Your dishes could use a little more… life."
Jiyeon's eyes narrowed. "I'll remember that next time you're choking on one of my so-called 'unseasoned' meals. And for the record, this dish is going to be an herb-infused beef tartare."
"Oh, fancy," Kang drawled, leaning back with his arms crossed. "Nothing says 'try-hard' quite like raw meat. Tell me, did you decide on this just to prove me wrong, or are you actually on a mission to reinvent the world's blandest dish?"
"Oh, you think you could do better?" Jiyeon challenged, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.
"Oh, I don't think. I know," he shot back, puffing up with exaggerated bravado. "The secret is simple, Jiyeon. Flavors should punch you in the face. Not sneak up like some kind of culinary ninja."
"Flavors should also be edible, Kang," Yura interjected, barely suppressing a laugh. "The last time you 'punched' anything in the face, the poor dish was inedible."
Jiyeon stifled a snicker. Kang's last attempt at "bold flavors" had led to a blackened monstrosity he'd called 'charcoal-crusted steak.' It had been exactly as appetizing as it sounded.
Kang ignored the dig, waving his hand dismissively. "That was just a misfire in my otherwise brilliant portfolio. Besides, subtlety is for the weak."
Yura laughed, rolling her eyes. "Right, because there's nothing weak about watching everyone suffer through your culinary 'experiments.' I still have nightmares about that time you tried to make 'fermented shrimp ice cream.'"
"Oh please," Kang shot back, clearly enjoying himself. "You just don't appreciate innovation. That was ahead of its time. You'd thank me in ten years if it went viral."
"Not if it paid me a million bucks," Yura said dryly.
"Alright, Kang," Jiyeon interrupted, smiling wickedly as she handed him an apron. "If you're so sure of your talent, you get to take over the next dish. Let's see if you can whip up something without setting the kitchen on fire."
Kang raised an eyebrow, mock insulted. "I accept your challenge, Jiyeon. Stand back, and watch a master at work."
Jiyeon and Yura exchanged an amused glance as Kang cracked his knuckles with great ceremony, stepping up to the countertop with the air of a man preparing for a grand performance. Yura settled into her chair, preparing for what she knew was about to be a train wreck.
Kang set about gathering his ingredients with an exaggerated, theatrical flair. He studied each one like he was assessing it for a battle plan, while Jiyeon and Yura watched with poorly disguised smirks. The grandiosity of his motions was almost impressive—if it weren't for the occasional clueless glance toward Jiyeon's notes.
"So, what's the masterpiece going to be?" Yura asked, leaning her chin on her hand. "Or should I call it an experiment and get the fire extinguisher ready?"
Kang didn't even flinch, too busy clanging pots and pans as he rummaged through the kitchen. "You two have no faith. You'll see—this is going to be a fusion of flavors that'll knock your socks off."
"Last time you said that, I couldn't taste anything for two days," Jiyeon muttered under her breath, earning a laugh from Yura.
Kang picked up a handful of dried chilies, throwing them in a pan with a casual toss. "Ladies, sit back and enjoy the show. You're about to witness magic." He was so wrapped up in his own bravado that he didn't even notice the alarmed looks Jiyeon and Yura exchanged as he reached for a bottle of something labeled "extremely spicy."
"Is that—" Jiyeon began, eyes widening as Kang unscrewed the cap.
"Just a little heat," Kang interrupted, waving off her concern. "You can handle it, right, Jiyeon? I thought you were all about bold flavors."
Jiyeon raised a brow. "Bold, not nuclear."
Kang dumped the hot sauce in with a flourish, stirring the concoction with a wooden spoon like he was conducting an orchestra. The smell that filled the kitchen was… alarming. It had an eye-watering sharpness to it that made both Jiyeon and Yura lean back instinctively.
Yura coughed, waving her hand in front of her face. "Are you trying to murder us with fumes?"
"It's called intensity," Kang shot back, entirely unbothered by the stinging aroma. "You want subtle? Go eat a salad."
"Careful what you wish for, Kang," Jiyeon said, trying to keep a straight face. "Remember what happened last time you went 'intense.' My entire staff couldn't set foot in the kitchen for a week."
Ignoring her, Kang continued to add ingredients in alarming amounts, each one more questionable than the last. Jiyeon could practically feel her stomach preparing itself for battle. But there was something endearing in the way Kang poured himself into it—completely oblivious to the chaos he was conjuring up.
Finally, Kang placed his creation in front of them with a satisfied sigh. It was… well, it looked edible. But the bubbling crimson sauce on top was practically glowing, and Jiyeon wasn't sure if it was the lighting or some sort of chemical reaction.
"Voilà!" Kang declared with a proud grin, crossing his arms and standing back like an artist admiring his work. "I call it… Inferno Surprise."
Jiyeon and Yura exchanged another wary glance before Yura reached for a fork. She stabbed it into the dish with a slight grimace, lifting it to eye level as if the sauce might leap out and bite her.
"Only for you, Kang," she said, holding her breath as she took a small, cautious bite. Her face went through several transformations: surprise, then terror, and finally something resembling resignation. She set the fork down gently, blinking rapidly as if to hold back tears.
"Well?" Kang asked, leaning forward, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "What do you think?"
"Think?" Yura coughed, grabbing her water glass with more urgency than elegance. "I think my taste buds are packing their bags as we speak."
Kang looked mildly offended. "It's not that spicy."
"I feel like I just ate a bonfire," Yura croaked. She downed half her glass in one go, wincing as she went for more water. "This is an attack, Kang. A full-on assault."
Jiyeon couldn't help but laugh, pushing a glass of milk toward Yura. "You might want to start a support group after this one."
Kang rolled his eyes, though his smirk betrayed his amusement. "You two are just weak. Real flavor isn't for the faint of heart."
Jiyeon scoffed, finally giving in and taking a small taste herself. The moment the fiery concoction hit her tongue, she felt a jolt of heat surge through her mouth, down her throat, and spread through her chest like a wildfire. For a second, her pride urged her to pretend it wasn't as intense as it felt, but the burning was relentless.
"Kang," she said, voice hoarse. "If I survive this, we're going to have a serious talk about your definition of flavor."
Kang laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, come on, you're exaggerating. It's just a little spice."
"'A little spice'?" Yura mimicked, fanning her mouth. "I can't feel my face, Kang. That's not a 'little spice.' That's weaponized."
For a moment, they all sat there, Jiyeon and Yura still recovering as Kang looked at them with an air of smug satisfaction. Then, as the burning began to fade, the absurdity of the situation hit them, and they broke into laughter.
"You really are something, Kang," Jiyeon said, wiping tears from her eyes. "Only you could create something so terrible it's almost impressive."
Kang grinned, unbothered. "Hey, at least you'll remember it."
"Believe me, I won't forget it," Yura muttered, taking another sip of milk. "I'll be telling my grandchildren about the day Kang tried to kill me with 'flavor.'"
As the laughter died down, Jiyeon reached over to pat Kang on the back. "Alright, maybe your 'cooking' has its moments, even if it's in the nightmare category. But next time, let's aim for 'memorable' in a slightly less painful way."
Kang shrugged, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. "No promises.