Uncovering the Kitchen's Rotten Secrets
“Stomachs full, so shall we head back to the control room?”
“Sir…? You’re not clocking out?”
It was currently 6:30 p.m.
Work was supposed to end at 6:00, and they’d already blown past it by half an hour.
“Clock out? Got too much on my plate to leave right away. If you want to head home first, go ahead.”
The answer was obvious, as always.
Damn it, overtime on the first day? This is bullshit.
But what could he do? In the army, no one left before their superior.
“No, sir. I need to review those handover docs you gave me earlier, so I’ll head to the control room too.”
“Good enthusiasm. Takes me back to my lieutenant days.”
She nodded in satisfaction and led the way back to the control room.
Blissfully unaware of how pissed he was trailing behind her.
The next day.
[Mess Hall Food Quality Improvement Plan]
[Ration Distribution Plan for Combat]
.
.
.
Dozens of documents piled on the desk.
All the handover work from the supply company commander.
This is insane. What’s with all this?
Every single one had a tight deadline.
“First up, the most urgent one.”
No question: drafting the food quality improvement plan.
Regiment commander briefing next week. I just got here yesterday—what the hell?
This damn army had no sense of common decency.
“No need to stress too much. They won’t expect miracles from a brand-new lieutenant.”
“Is that so, ma’am?”
“Sure, but you still gotta show something on the food quality issue.”
Asking for results on the toughest problem.
Was there anything harsher for a rookie lieutenant?
“By the way, ma’am, why’s this suddenly a big deal?”
Even if the chow was crap, had any commander ever cared?
Just look at his own service record—soldiers had sent dozens of complaint letters about the food, and not one got a reply.
No phone cameras allowed on base, so even if it looks shitty, they can’t snap pics for proof. No evidence, no real complaints.
A perfect vicious cycle.
“Word I got is His Imperial Majesty flagged food budgets as a key corruption target.”
“Ah….”
When the emperor got involved, things changed fast.
This is way bigger than I thought.
Try to brush it off, and who knew what backlash he’d face.
“Do you know what time they start prepping lunch, ma’am?”
“Probably three hours ahead?”
“Three hours….”
He glanced at the clock. Just enough time left till lunch.
“I’ll head to the mess hall for a bit.”
“Sure. Ask the supply squad leader if you’ve got questions.”
“Got it, ma’am.”
He reported his destination to the captain, grabbed his notepad, and headed out.
“Sir!”
“Sir!”
The soldiers prepping food in the kitchen snapped to attention as he entered.
“Everyone’s working hard. Mind if I watch for a bit?”
“Y-Yes, sir! No problem at all.”
They were stiff as boards—clearly nervous around the boss—but he ignored it and observed their work.
Damn, they just dump it all in that massive pot and stir? No wonder the squad leader’s got arms like tree trunks.
He was wielding a shovel like a pro.
“What’s today’s lunch menu?”
“Spicy pork stir-fry and clear soup, sir.”
Plus the standard bread slice per meal now, making three items total.
“At least there’s meat.”
“Yeah, under the old company commander, it was maybe once a week if we were lucky. Since the captain took over, it’s every other day.”
“Really?”
One might wonder how the company commander tied into that, but ordering ingredients was part of the job.
“Folks complain less than before now.”
“But yesterday, seemed like the meat was mixed with other stuff. Why’s that?”
“The amount we get doesn’t match headcount, and a bunch arrives rotten. After tossing the bad parts, we bulk it up with whatever.”
“Rotten on arrival…?”
“Yeah, we trash about 20% every time.”
Not in the handover docs, so he flipped open his notepad and jotted it down.
“You don’t need to take my word that seriously, sir….”
“Nah, I gotta verify this. Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Anything else you need, just say the word, sir!”
His reaction must’ve scored points—the soldier’s gaze warmed up noticeably.
How shitty was the last commander?
He tsked and methodically checked the other prep stations.
“Sir! Company commander, sir.”
“Ah, squad leader. Was just about to swing by your office.”
Word must’ve spread; the supply squad leader emerged from his office into the kitchen.
“What brings you here this time of day, sir?”
“Gotta brief the regiment commander on food improvements, so I’m taking a look around. Any ideas?”
“Hmm.”
The squad leader stroked his chin, pondering the sudden question.
“No rush—if nothing comes to mind, let me know later. More importantly, that rotten meat thing—is it true?”
“We double-check and toss it every time, sir.”
Spoken like they were handling it fine.
And from the receiving end, they were.
But that wasn’t his point.
“That’s great, but why’s rotten meat showing up in the first place? Consistently?”
This wasn’t the Joseon era.
They had magic refrigeration tech, yet spoiled meat deliveries?
Unacceptable.
“Uh… it’s always been like that. Weather, probably.”
“No. Where’s the meat coming from now?”
“Alonso Merchant Group for everything except potatoes and bread.”
“Alonso Merchant Group, huh.”
Not ringing any bells from Palan’s memories.
“Is there a problem, sir?”
The squad leader clearly had no clue.
Long road ahead.
“I’ll check it out and get back to you. Anyway, aside from improvements—what do you need for day-to-day?”
“Well, there is one thing.”
“What is it? I’ll hook you up if I can.”
If it meant results, he’d dip into his own pocket.
“I’ve never cooked in my life, so a recipe book would be gold.”
“Pardon…?”
The guy managing meals for over ten thousand troops had zero cooking experience?
What the hell?
“Oh, you wouldn’t know, sir. Till a year ago, I was with Special Forces Command.”
“Then why supply squad leader…?”
Special Forces—that put him in Derek’s league.
A far cry from mess duty.
“Hurt my leg on a mission, as you can see. Was gonna discharge, but they pulled strings to place me here.”
He pointed to his right leg.
“Didn’t realize you were injured, squad leader.”
“Rehabbed hard—everything but running’s good now.”
A real army, reassigning instead of discharging.
But why mess squad? Put him somewhere using his skills!
As a one-year solo chef survivor, he knew cooking wasn’t easy.
No wonder the food sucks—they’re mopping floors while playing head chef.
Yesterday’s slop wasn’t just bad ingredients.
“The other supply troops here too?”
“Half drafted in, half like me—injured transfers.”
“Got it. I’ll think of something better than just books.”
“Thanks, sir. You’re easy to talk to. Last commander was a nightmare.”
He grimaced, like the memory stung.
“We’re in charge of food, shelter, and clothing—one of the big three. Gotta do it right. See you at lunch.”
“Yes, sir!”
He exchanged salutes with the squad leader and returned to the control room.
“How’d it go? Any leads?”
Captain Ciel looked up from her paperwork mountain.
“Head hurts more, but I’ve got a direction.”
“Good. It’s important, so push through the pain.”
Her encouragement felt genuine, but something nagged at him.
Is she okay?
Dark circles like bruises, voice strained.
Classic overwork burnout.
“When’s the new battalion commander arriving? You’re killing yourself here.”
“No clue. Logistics officers are getting fired daily—no replacement soon. Sigh.”
A deep sigh from the gut.
Nothing he could say to fix it.
“Hang in there, ma’am.”
“Help me out a ton. Supply company’s the top priority right now.”
“I’ll give it my all.”
Back at his desk, he summarized the mess hall issues.
• Lack of cooking experience and skill
• Defective delivered ingredients (investigate)
• Shortage of cooking equipment due to wear
• Insufficient manpower vs. growing headcount
“Biggest issue first.”
Lack of skill? Solution hit him the second he heard it.
Just bring in someone who can actually cook.
Schools had those folks we call “nutritionists.”
With a real boss, the troops’ skills will skyrocket fast.
Civilian hires weren’t unheard of—he’d pitch it to the regiment commander.
“Real problem’s this one.”
• Defective delivered ingredients (investigate)
A lunatic merchant group delivering spoiled meat like it’s normal.
He wanted to ditch them yesterday, but army rules: even if it’s wrong, tread careful.
Could be some bigwig’s cousin or a two-star reserve running it.
“Ma’am, quick question—got a sec?”
“Huh…? Yeah, shoot.”
She looked scattered, which sucked, but business was business.
“Ever hear of Alonso Merchant Group?”
“They supply our ingredients, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why?”
“Part of the meat always arrives rotten. Looking into it.”
“Huh.”
News to her, judging by the blank stare.
“Doesn’t that seem off?”
“Meat spoils in transit sometimes, doesn’t it? Weather’s warm.”
“Maybe, but no follow-up’s the issue. We’re basically buying rotten meat too.”
“Fair point.”
She nodded and rummaged through the file cabinet.
“Contract’s gotta be here… Found it.”
• Operated by retired Colonel Alonso, former 1st Division Logistics Regiment commander and Combat Rations officer at Logistics Command. Deep expertise in military procurement.
• Deemed capable of stably supplying ingredients promoting balanced health for troops.
• Budget: 15 silver per soldier/day, 18 silver per officer/day. Orders placed 2 weeks before meal date.
• Contract term: 5 years, extendable once by 2 years upon mutual agreement.
“Check it out yourself.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
He took the file reverently with both hands and sat back down.
Let’s see here.
First page: intro to Alonso Merchant Group.
As expected from the army.