An Unexpected Turn of Events! (2)

Closing cleanup was finally done.

"I'm heading out."

"Yeah. Good work today. Get going."

"Yes, sir!"

I sent Jinwoo off first, then peeled off my apron and checked my phone.

I dialed back the number that had called earlier. In the meantime, quite a few messages had piled up—enough to suggest she was really struggling.

They weren't playful messages. Her voice on the call had been too desperate for that. And the ones that followed had come at uneven intervals—not fired off at random, but after long stretches of hesitation.

The great Im Ha-yun, reduced to whining like this?

Something was seriously wrong. Back when Lee Hyun-sung had snuck Soni in as a surprise guest without telling her, Ha-yun had raised her voice at first—then accepted it almost immediately, deciding it would help the show. She was a broadcast monster that way: able to set her own feelings aside if it served the work. A professional attitude if there ever was one.

And yet that same woman was reaching out this desperately. That alone was enough to put me on edge.

What was that address ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she sent earlier?

I was just about to wrap up the shop and punch it into the map, figuring I should at least go check on her, when—

Bang! Bang!

Someone pounded hard on the locked glass door.

What the—?

Thinking it might be a drunk, I frowned and walked over.

"Huh?"

It wasn't. Beyond the glass stood a woman with her hat pulled low. Even in the dark, her eyes glittered. That look alone told me who it was.

"Im Ha-yun?"

Incredulous, I unlocked the door I had already shut for the night.

Click.

The moment the lock released, she swept in like a gust of wind.

"I told you to come. I never said I was coming here."

"I couldn't wait. You weren't answering my messages either."

"Thanks to you, Ha-yun, we had a huge rush. I was too busy with customers to text back."

"So it was because of me, then?"

"That's right."

"Then help me out a little."

"Help you with what?"

She yanked her mask off and flung it aside. Her face was pale, her eyes sunken like someone who hadn't eaten in days. And yet her presence was still pure predator.

Like a beast made even fiercer by hunger.

With a trembling hand she gripped the counter and glared at me.

"Take responsibility."

"Excuse me?"

Responsibility for what? When I treated Lee Hyun-sung, I had fixed her loss of appetite at the same time. From then on she should have been soaring as the Eating Empress and nothing else.

"After eating your cooking, Chef… nothing else will go down my throat."

"What?"

"I mean nothing goes down. At all."

"So you're saying food won't go in? Im Ha-yun?"

"Exactly! It has no taste. What did you do to me last time? Everything I eat feels incomplete. I can't stand it."

"Huh…"

"Give me something. Right now."

First things first: I had to calm her down.

"Come over here and sit for a second."

"…Are you giving me something to eat?"

"I will. Just come on."

I guided her to a seat at the bar and sat her down. She obeyed without protest and simply stared at me, as if demanding food that very instant.

"…"

Those eyes really are a beast's. A real beast.

Hoping to settle that ferocity, I held her gaze. Silence filled the shop. After a little time had passed, I set a warm cup of barley tea in front of her.

Slurp—

Only after she drank the barley tea did her trembling hands steady.

"Feeling a little calmer?"

"…Hah. I might live. How can plain barley tea do this?"

"Do what?"

"It suddenly feels like my mind is settling."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Strangely enough, it does. Weird, right? And I look pathetic, don't I?"

She gave a bitter smile. Her face was pale, her lips dry, her cheeks hollowed out like someone who hadn't eaten in days.

"What about dinner?"

"I couldn't eat. For two whole days. Me—the person the world calls the Eating Empress—couldn't eat for two days. Does that make any sense?"

"Two days?"

"Yes. I only drank water."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

For someone who normally put away thirty servings a day, going two days without food explained the hollow ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cheeks.

"You didn't try eating anything else?"

"No, I tried. I hunted down every famous restaurant I could. Michelin places. Hotel buffets."

She toyed with the cup.

"But… I don't know why, it was revolting. Things I used to eat with pure joy just wouldn't go down. It's bizarre."

"Revolting?"

"After your cooking, Chef, every other food just…"

"Just?"

"Something's missing. They're clearly delicacies. Amazing chefs made them, and yet… I don't know. Something never gets filled."

"Never gets filled?"

"Yes. I don't know what it is, but once I became aware of it, I couldn't force anything past my throat. I threw it all up."

"Huh…"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Look at me now. Water and tea wouldn't go down either—but this barley tea is fine. Because you made it."

"…That's strange."

Something never gets filled.

This was something even I hadn't expected.

My cooking carries system corrections and skills.

Ingredient Strengthening, Aroma Enhancement, Material Blending, Toxin Removal—plenty of baseline skills went into every dish. Even the green onions we grew for the restaurant were different; I constantly used skills while raising them. Stat boosts and recovery effects on consumption were just the bonus. Of course people found it delicious.

Still, cases where someone felt the difference this sharply were rare.

What in the world…?

While I was turning it over, she finished the barley tea I'd given her and looked at me again. Her eyes were pleading.

"It wasn't like this at first, but it keeps getting worse. I completely blew every schedule I had today. No strength left. My head is nothing but thoughts of your jjamppong… I honestly thought I was going to die. But then."

"But then?"

"Drinking this barley tea, I strangely feel better again. I'm weird, aren't I?"

"Huh…"

Tears welled in her eyes. This wasn't simple acting out.

I opened the system window and checked her condition.

Worse than I thought. This wasn't ordinary hunger. This was illness.

So that's why she told me to take responsibility.

And now I understood exactly what was happening.

In short: once her loss of appetite was cured, her strengthened hunger started craving something even better. And nothing but my food could satisfy it. That was the answer.

Is she some kind of animal?

She had sensed it on pure instinct—that my cooking was different from everyone else's. That something extra was in it. Her body knew. And that instinct was crushing the rational need to simply eat.

What a monstrous instinct.

She had no idea I had skills. No idea what I was doing. And she still felt it raw like this? Even I, who had always prided myself on a refined palate, had to tip my hat.

Is she a monster? Then again, maybe that same fierce instinct is exactly why she rose to the top as a mukbang star.

On one hand, it almost made sense. A body that knew what it wanted that clearly…

She can feel, with nothing but her body, that the food I make with skills is different. Incredible. Truly incredible.

I'd seen people like Jinwoo who paired well with my cooking before. But to detect the difference from other food through pure physical response alone? It was simply wondrous.

And on the other hand, it made me laugh.

"Why are you laughing? I'm serious here!"

"I'm a chef, and I just got the highest praise possible through food."

I had just received the greatest compliment there was, hadn't I?

"What is that supposed to mean? I'm dying over here."

"I'll save you now."

Still smiling, I stepped into the kitchen. I wasn't joking. Michelin stars, certifications—none of that mattered. A customer who would rather starve than eat anything but my cooking? What stronger endorsement could there be?

I usually don't cook once the kitchen's closed. But today I'm in the mood.

From one side of the kitchen I took out an ingredient I had carefully set aside—seafood my resourceful hyung Jang had procured. Natural abalone larger than a grown man's fist, blue-green moss still clinging to the shells.

"Abalone?"

"That's right. Big, aren't they?"

"Just give me the jjamppong. That's all I need."

"Ah. No jjamppong today."

"You can't!"

"Kitchen's rules. If you don't like it, I won't cook at all?"

"Ugh… cheap shot."

Jjamppong was absolutely out. What she needed now wasn't a sharp, aggressive flavor. She needed a restorative dish that would gently cradle her shocked stomach and pour life back into her. That was why I had chosen the abalone.

"Just wait a moment. It'll be ready soon."

I set an abalone on the cutting board. The living thing wriggled—so fresh it was practically bursting with strength. With a spoon I separated the meat from the guts, then scored it.

Sizzle—!

I poured the strengthened sesame oil into a heated pot and began stir-frying the crushed abalone guts.

"Wow…"

Sssss—

In an instant a rich, deep aroma filled the entire kitchen—a savory ocean scent that tugged hard at the appetite.

"Smells good, right?"

"…Yes! I'm already looking forward to it. Why is that?"

I left her instinct-driven murmurs as they were. The moment the timing was right, I added the abalone, then the pre-soaked glutinous rice, and poured in the stock.

That rice was for tomorrow. Ha-yun must have some serious luck to be eating it tonight.

When it looked properly fried, I added one of the stocks and brought it to a boil. It began bubbling almost at once.

Bubble, bubble.

As the porridge boiled, its color deepened.

Now!