Come in. Dennis, is that you? My goodness, what brings
you here so late in the evening? An old man wearing a crisp, white bathrobe was writing
something at a desk in the center of the room.
His face was ruddy, and his silver hair had been styled meticulously. It was obvious he
took great care to maintain his health and appearance. This old man was the current
principal of Otis High School, Theodore Turkle.
Theodore Turkle glanced up at Mr. Harvey, then lowered his head again and continued
writing. Mr. Harvey presented the stack of papers directly to the principal. Mr. Turkle, let
me begin by reminding you that I've been at Otis for many years, and I've never once come to you for help.
But tonight, I do have a favor to ask of you, and it's something very important, so please
pay attention. It has to do with a student. Oh, a student, eh? To be worthy of our
esteemed Mr. Harvey's rare assistance, I wonder who this very special student might be?
No one asked me for help.
I'm doing this because I like seeing gifted young people succeed in life, and because
helping them succeed is my job and my purpose in life. Mr. Harvey looked quite noble as
he said this. He passed the stack of papers to Mr. Turkle.
Principal, take a look at these documents. He said, smiling proudly. All these complete
functions were written by a student of mine named Aiden.
He's only 16 this year, but he's already incredibly talented and could have such a bright
future ahead of him. That's why I've come to you, Principal, to ask you to reserve a
recommendation for Oxford University for Aiden. At this, Mr. Turkle frowned.
He picked up his reading glasses and carefully scanned the pages Mr. Harvey had
handed him. After a long time, he set the papers aside and sighed. Mr. Harvey, he
began.
You know the Oxford recommendations are extremely precious. There are only two
available to our students each year. Principal, of course I know that.
That's why I've come to you so far in advance. Aiden is still in junior year. Mr. Turkle
tapped his fingers on the table in growing frustration.
But this Aiden has only displayed extraordinary talent in math. To attend Oxford
University, one must possess talents in various fields. With such an extraordinary gift,
surely he'll be able to do well in other subjects.
You know he will. You said it yourself. Aiden is only a junior year student.
Why don't you continue observing his actions over the next year? Now anxious, Mr.
Harvey interjected. But Principal... All right, Mr. Harvey, my old friend. We should both be
hurrying home for dinner now.
I'll be leaving soon as well. Realizing the conversation was over, Mr. Harvey grumbled
under his breath and began to shuffle out of the office. Mr. Turkle couldn't have picked
up the phone faster if he had known it was going to ring in advance.
Kathy? Hello, good evening. What? A recommendation for Oxford University? No
problem, no problem. I'll definitely reserve it for you.
Don't worry. Mr. Harvey, who could still hear Mr. Turkle's voice in the hallway, shook his head and smiled bitterly. I wanted to go out with a bang before I retired.
But I guess luck just isn't on your side this time, kiddo. Across town, Aiden had no idea
that he just lost a free ticket to one of the most famous universities in the world. As Mr.
Harvey dejectedly stepped into the parking lot of Otis High School, Aiden was gazing
down at a long line of midnight revelers waiting outside Midnight's Snack Corner.
It looked like the entire neighborhood had decided to congregate here all at once. Morris
and Clara were forced to explain to each person that their Supreme Chicken Noodle Soup
was only served on the weekends. However, this explanation was obviously lacking in
any sort of power or persuasion.
Hood shouted, Morris, Clara, can't you be a little more considerate? If your food is as
great as you say it is, why keep it to yourselves? Let everyone have a taste and we'll be
the judge. Yes, exactly. We heard you tamed Boss Romano with that soup of yours.
Is it really that great? Morris and Clara smiled stiffly as they responded to the customer's
endless queries, comments, and complaints, each of which seemed ruder and sillier than
the last. When they told them the whole story, Aiden did not know whether to laugh or
cry. After Boss Romano and his gang of lackeys had established a veritable propaganda
mill to promote their food, word of the delicious Supreme Chicken Noodle Soup at
Midnight Snack Corner had spread like wildfire throughout the entire country.
The first group of people who came to try the dish were naturally their neighbors living
on the same street. Aiden paced back and forth along the length of the crowd as he
considered possible solutions to this rather irritating problem. Aiden stood at the front of
the crowd and raised his voice to what he thought was a rather commanding volume, but
for some reason, he seemed to make no impression on these people whatsoever, and
they had no trouble ignoring him completely.
They might as well have been hecklers at a rock concert or a political rally for all the
good manners they had shown this evening. Disgusted by their boorish attitudes, he
bared his teeth. All of you, shut the hell up! Aiden shouted angrily.
There was silence. Aiden's voice now seemed to convey a domineering presence that
shocked the animal-like minds in the crowd. Aiden nodded with satisfaction.
First of all, he began, I am extremely glad to know how much you love and want to try
our restaurant's Chicken Noodle Soup. However, Aiden deliberately pronounced the word
slowly just to keep the crowd waiting in suspense. Pausing briefly, he continued, The
Supreme Chicken Noodle Soup requires rare ingredients and is rather difficult to prepare,
so the amount we are able to provide is limited.
As you can see, we are forced to limit our supply on the weekends. Ladies and
gentlemen, I hope you can understand the position we are in and will be patient with us.
This was all Aiden could think to say in response to their inquiries.
He did not understand why Morris and Clara's Chicken Noodle Soup was not as delicious
as his, even when they followed his recipe, and even after he'd guided them through the
process step by step. Were they simply incapable of cooking at his level since he'd
received the bonus for proficiency in cooking? Amid the stunned silence on the sidewalk,
the neighbors looked at one another in shock and dismay, but only Hood spoke in the
end. He pointed at Aiden and said to Morris, So, Morris, guess your son's the one running
the restaurant now, huh? Morris looked at Aiden, and his eyes filled with fatherly pride.
Of course, he gushed, To tell you the truth, the Supreme Chicken Noodle Soup was
actually invented by my son. Wow. The announcement caused a sensation in the crowd.
Not bad, Aiden. Hood gave Aiden a thumbs up. You're much more promising than my
son.
He really is the very definition of a wonderkind. As they listened nearby, the old man
who worked at the pastry shop across the street pointed to his son, Rudy, and said
resentfully, Look at Aiden, then look at you. Rudy spat, This is all they will ever amount
to.
Someday they will lose all their money, and then what'll they have? Nothing. Rudy was a
young man in his 20s. Aiden didn't know his real name, so he just called him Rudy.
He had never gotten a good impression of Rudy, maybe because he always had a cocky
look on his face, as though he thought the whole world owed him something. Rudy heard
what his father had said, but he didn't feel ashamed. He said scowling, It's just a bowl of
chicken noodle soup.
What's so amazing about that? With that, he turned around and returned to the pastry
shop. This spoiled brat of mine really pisses me off, he muttered, looking embarrassed.
Soon after, the crowd dispersed, but not before each member had reserved their own
bowl of chicken noodle soup for that weekend.
It was now late at night, and the day's business was finally done. After the last of the
crowd members had booked their reservations and finally exited the building, the family
of three began to discuss the direction their restaurant would take in the future.
Although weekend business was still good, they worried weekday businesses would end
up suffering.
It's because the chicken noodle soup this kid makes is so incredible. The customers
couldn't care less about anything I make these days. That's pretty sad.
Morris let out a long, heavy sigh, but he couldn't hide the joy in his eyes. Anyone who
had a son as outstanding as Aiden would naturally feel proud. In that case, why don't I create a dish you two can make without my help? Clara thumped Aiden's head.
Inventing new dishes? Do you think it's that easy? She interjected. Do you know how far
your grandfather traveled and how many experts he consulted to make this bowl of
chicken noodle soup? Aiden smiled mysteriously. Well, you never know.
Right?