The morning had started innocently enough, with a hint of chaos lingering in the air—an inevitability, Jiyeon thought, when you put Kang and a box of eggs in the same vicinity. But she hadn't anticipated that within ten minutes, she'd be using her best "disappointed mom" voice.
"Is that—" Jiyeon narrowed her eyes at the scene unfolding in her pristine kitchen. "Is that a flour tornado?"
Kang was in the middle of it, like some unhinged baking wizard, hands raised and mouth agape. "It was supposed to be a light dusting of flour! A whimsical touch, like fairy dust!"
Hana, who had long resigned herself to Kang's penchant for culinary disasters, had her head in her hands. "We're two seconds away from summoning a gluten-based poltergeist."
Jiyeon stormed over, avoiding the puffs of flour floating through the air. "Kang, if I have to scrape dough off the ceiling one more time, I will personally stuff you into the walk-in freezer. And don't think I'm joking."
Kang blinked, genuinely contrite. "It… it was an accident?"
"That's what they all say before they end up on a list," Jiyeon muttered darkly, grabbing a towel to wipe the nearest explosion of flour. "Hana, get the mop. And Kang, sit."
He perched on a stool, looking like a scolded puppy, complete with flour clinging to his hair. "You know, for someone so small, you're really terrifying."
Jiyeon leveled him with a look. "I will end you."
Across the kitchen, Yura made her entrance, dressed in a sleek designer suit that made her look like she belonged on the cover of some power magazine. She surveyed the floury battlefield with one raised eyebrow. "Wow. And here I thought the boardroom was wild."
Jiyeon didn't miss a beat. "At least in the boardroom, people aren't trying to create flour-based natural disasters."
Yura strolled over, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "You know, you could turn this into an avant-garde restaurant theme. Welcome to the Culinary Apocalypse, where every meal is a gamble."
Kang perked up. "See? Yura gets it!"
Jiyeon threw the towel at him. "Shut up, Kang."
Yura hid her laugh behind a perfectly manicured hand. "You're really in top form today, aren't you?"
"Top form would be having an actual team of competent adults," Jiyeon deadpanned. "Instead, I'm stuck with Mr. Explosion over there and a kitchen that might actually be cursed."
Kang, now sweeping flour off his lap, protested, "Hey, in my defense, I provide comic relief."
Hana grumbled, "More like culinary grief."
Before Kang could retort, the back door burst open, and Chef Kang's older brother, Chef Minho, strode in. He was carrying an enormous sack of what appeared to be purple potatoes. "Jiyeon, you owe me for these. Imported and probably cursed, because that's the kind of weird stuff you ask for."
Jiyeon's eyes lit up. "Minho! My hero! Are those the mythical Peruvian purple potatoes?"
Minho set down the sack with a thud. "Yeah, yeah, mythical and probably stolen by some potato pirate gang. Now, where's my bribe? I was promised free food in exchange for this insanity."
Jiyeon pointed to the counter. "You get a free meal if you clean up Kang's artistic masterpiece over there."
Minho glanced at Kang, who looked suspiciously guilty, and let out a groan. "I swear, coming here is like signing up for a culinary boot camp run by toddlers."
Kang crossed his arms. "I'm an artist, not a toddler!"
Hana snorted. "Right. An artist of mass destruction."
Yura leaned against the counter, still thoroughly amused. "I'm so glad I didn't have a meeting today. Watching this disaster unfold is better than any reality show."
Jiyeon finally cracked a grin. "We should charge admission, really. Or at least start a YouTube channel: Surviving Flavor of Seoul."
Kang lit up. "Oh! And I can be the star!"
"More like the cautionary tale," Minho added, grabbing a broom. "Alright, let's clean this mess before we all get buried alive under a mountain of flour."
Yura leaned in and whispered to Jiyeon, "You know, there's something charming about this madness. Even if your staff could probably power a reality show network."
Jiyeon sighed, her shoulders finally relaxing a bit. "I know. It's weird, but it's our weird."
And as the team fell into a rhythm of cleaning, bickering, and prepping for the next wave of customers, Jiyeon couldn't help but feel a strange sense of gratitude. Because even if chaos reigned, there was something undeniably comforting in the madness of it all.
The kitchen, finally beginning to resemble a place where edible food could be prepared, remained a hub of controlled chaos. Jiyeon was ready to throw herself into the next phase of her day, which mostly involved trying to salvage what dignity her restaurant had left after Kang's flour tornado.
Minho wiped his brow after shoving the last mound of flour into a trash bag, though his face still bore the expression of someone seriously reconsidering his life choices. "You know," he said, leaning on his broom, "I keep telling myself that working with you is a privilege. And then I walk in to find the place looking like an abandoned bakery set from a post-apocalyptic movie."
Jiyeon patted his shoulder sympathetically. "At least it keeps life interesting, right? Besides, you wouldn't want to work anywhere predictable and boring."
Minho groaned. "Yeah, but there's a difference between 'interesting' and 'what fresh hell awaits me today.'"
Kang, who was now trying (and failing) to scrub a streak of dried batter from the window, piped up, "It's called living on the edge! Embrace the excitement."
Minho shot him a withering glare. "The only edge I'm embracing is the one of this mop handle, and I swear, if you make another mess—"
"Alright, children," Jiyeon interrupted, clapping her hands to restore order. "The lunch crowd will be here soon, and we need to focus. Kang, once you finish playing artist-in-residence, help Hana with the vegetable prep. Minho, you and I will handle the special orders."
Yura, who had yet to leave and still looked like she was having the time of her life, gave Jiyeon a mock salute. "Anything I can do, or should I just sit back and continue to enjoy the show?"
Jiyeon eyed her wife, who was impeccably dressed and distinctly out of place in the kitchen. "You? Help in a kitchen? That's like asking a cat to write a novel."
Yura smirked. "I'll have you know that I can fry an egg."
"Sure, if by 'fry an egg,' you mean incinerate it into an unrecognizable charcoal puck," Jiyeon teased. "No, your skillset is best used elsewhere, like terrifying your employees into meeting deadlines."
"Speaking of deadlines," Yura said, switching gears smoothly, "have you given any thought to the investors' dinner next month? Or are you planning to wing it, as usual?"
Jiyeon paused mid-swipe of the countertop. "Oh, you mean the dinner where a bunch of wealthy snobs will judge my restaurant and my culinary genius in one fell swoop? How could I forget?"
Yura tilted her head, her gaze softening a bit. "You know, I could help with the planning. Make sure the guest list is just right."
Jiyeon's heart warmed, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she shot back with, "Aw, are you worried your genius chef wife will accidentally insult one of your precious investors?"
Yura's lips curved into a slow, mischievous smile. "I'd be more worried about you serving them that experimental squid ink soufflé and scaring them into retirement."
Kang, who had apparently been eavesdropping, snorted. "That soufflé was a bold choice, Jiyeon. Truly nightmare-inducing."
Jiyeon rolled her eyes. "It was ahead of its time! Visionaries are never appreciated in the moment."
Hana muttered from across the room, "Or maybe some ideas should stay buried in the darkest corners of culinary hell."
Yura laughed, the sound rare and bright, cutting through the noise of the bustling kitchen. Jiyeon glanced over, and for a split second, their eyes met—warmth passing between them like a secret shared under the cover of darkness. Even in this whirlwind of flour and chaos, they had their moments.
"All right, enough chit-chat," Jiyeon declared, shaking off the softness before anyone could notice. "Back to work, people. We've got a reputation to uphold, even if it's as the most insane restaurant in Seoul."
With renewed vigor, the team sprang into action, the sound of knives chopping, pots clanging, and Kang humming something off-key filling the space. Jiyeon felt herself slipping into the rhythm, the familiar adrenaline of a chef preparing for the lunch rush.
Just as she was about to slice into a perfectly marbled piece of Wagyu beef, the Culinary System decided to rear its unwelcome head. A holographic screen, visible only to her, flashed in front of her eyes with bright, annoying letters:
"Mission Alert: Impress Yura with a dish that expresses your feelings!"
Jiyeon groaned internally. Why now? She had enough on her plate (literally and metaphorically) without the Culinary System demanding she play out a romantic food fantasy.
Yura, noticing Jiyeon's brief distraction, raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"
Jiyeon snapped back to reality, quickly hiding her frustration. "Nothing at all. Just plotting my next culinary masterpiece."
Yura crossed her arms, looking amused. "Should I be worried?"
"Only if you don't have a high tolerance for genius," Jiyeon quipped, mentally scrambling for a plan. What dish could possibly convey her feelings? The Culinary System had a flair for the dramatic, and she'd need to get creative.
She glanced over at Minho, who was chopping the Peruvian purple potatoes. A wild idea began to form in her mind. It was risky, unconventional, and very likely to backfire—but since when did she play it safe?
"Hey, Minho," Jiyeon called, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Change of plans. We're making a purple potato and saffron bisque, served with a side of grilled seafood and finished with a drizzle of vanilla-infused oil."
Minho's knife paused mid-chop. "A bisque? With vanilla oil? Are you trying to make our customers question their life choices?"
Jiyeon's eyes gleamed. "Trust me, it'll work. Besides, it's for a special taste test."
Kang, ever curious and nosy, piped up, "Oh, this better not be another one of those 'secret romantic messages in food' things you do."
Jiyeon shot him a glare. "Shut it, or I'll demote you to dishwasher."
Yura watched the exchange with thinly veiled amusement, her eyes narrowing with interest. "Now I'm really curious. What's this 'special taste test' about?"
Jiyeon tried to look casual, but she knew her ears were probably turning red. "You'll see. Just… be prepared to be amazed."
Yura's lips curved into that teasing smile that always made Jiyeon's heart skip. "I'm looking forward to it."
The lunch rush began, and Jiyeon threw herself into her work, hands moving with practiced precision as she brought her bisque vision to life. The kitchen buzzed around her, a symphony of movement and sound that was equal parts chaos and artistry. And as she cooked, she couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and dread.
Because in a world full of challenges, nothing terrified her more than the idea of pouring her heart into a dish and having Yura—her cold, beautiful, maddening wife—be the one to taste it.