Chapter 160: Party Members Wanted (1)
Chapter 160: Party Members Wanted (1)
Venice.
Hearing that name, many people might think of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice. Naturally, they would also think of the city in Italy.
(Translator’s Note: The Merchant of Venice —A comedy by English playwright William Shakespeare, generally dated to around 1596–1598 and first printed in 1600. Despite its title, the play is set primarily in Venice, Italy)
Venice certainly existed in Italy. But the Venice Jo Minjoon was currently standing in was not there. It was in California, on the western side of Los Angeles near Santa Monica.
Venice Beach.
You might expect the area to be lined with luxurious buildings and hotels, but in reality, most of the neighbourhood consisted of old villas and small apartment buildings.
Yet that gave the area a strange kind of beauty.
People in swimsuits mingled freely with those dressed casually, while others wandered along the paths without any particular destination, fishing or simply enjoying a walk.
It was difficult to distinguish the tourists from the locals, and that gave the beach a mysterious atmosphere.
Was it an illusion?
Or was it real?
The flagship restaurant of Rose Island was located here, on Venice Beach.
The restaurant itself was not particularly large. Its ceiling was almost high enough for a two-storey building, but the structure itself was only one storey. With white-painted walls and a blue domed roof, it looked as though it had been taken from ancient Greece. The columns resembled those of a Greek temple, while the open veranda and wooden-framed windows added an old-fashioned charm.
If the building had stood anywhere else, it might have looked plain or even outdated.
But against the backdrop of Venice Beach, the building and the scenery seemed to enhance one another.
And then there were the people.
…Even they’re part of the scenery.
Jo Minjoon stood in front of the restaurant with his hood pulled low over his face, staring at the crowd gathered outside.
Just thinking about forcing his way through them made him nervous, but he had no other choice.
From what he had heard, people had been gathering outside Rose Island even before Rachel returned to Los Angeles.
There were all kinds.
Tourists who wanted to see the famous flagship branch of Rose Island with their own eyes.
Reporters hoping for an exclusive interview.
And, of course, chefs hoping to gain Rachel’s approval and become her disciples.
Just as Jo Minjoon hesitated before entering the crowd, a woman of mixed ethnicity glanced back at him.
Her eyes widened.
“Uh, you… Minjoon! You’re Minjoon, right?!”
“What? Where?”
“Wow, it really is Minjoon!”
“Can I take a selfie with you?”
They were smiling so brightly that it was difficult for him to claim he was busy and refuse.
In the end, Jo Minjoon was caught by the crowd and forced to sign autographs and pose for photographs. Of course, not everyone asked, but even a small portion of such a large crowd was enough to eat away at his time.
And naturally, the reporters were not about to stay quiet.
“Minjoon, how do you feel about working at Rachel’s restaurant?”
“There are a lot of rumours about Rose Island’s reopening date. Do you know the exact date?”
“How are you planning to organise the kitchen staff?”
Question after question poured towards him.
“There are still many things I can’t answer right now.”
Using that as his shield, Jo Minjoon hurried towards the entrance.
He could still hear cameras clicking and reporters calling after him, but once he stepped through the door, they could no longer follow.
“Tsk, tsk. Your problem is that you’re too nice. Why bother dealing with all that?”
Anderson’s voice greeted him.
Jo Minjoon let out an exhausted sigh and entered the dining room.
Forty empty chairs sat neatly around the tables.
He had never realised how much he could appreciate such peace and quiet.
“Where’s Rachel?”
“In her office. Anyway, did you do what I told you?”
“Yes. I signed up.”
“Give me your ID.”
They were talking about the Starbook account Jo Minjoon had kept postponing making.
Anderson briefly examined Jo Minjoon’s account settings, then frowned.
“…You already have eight hundred followers?”
“Is that fast?”
Anderson did not answer.
Eight hundred in a single day.
It had taken him nearly a week to reach that number.
Still frowning, Anderson tapped the top of his screen. A moment later, a notification appeared on Jo Minjoon’s phone.
Minjoon has entered the chatroom.
[Hugo: Oh, Minjoon finally made a Starbook account.]
[Anderson: I made him do it.]
[Hugo: His follower count is no joke. He might hit a thousand by the end of the day.]
[Minjoon: This feels strange. I’ve never chatted like this before.]
[Joanne: Minjoon! Nice to see you. Chatting like this almost makes it feel like I’m seeing you in person.]
[Minjoon: It does! It feels like we’re back in the competition.]
[Joanne: Want me to tell you a secret? Kaya wins that competition!]
[Minjoon: Ohhhhhh. What a surprise.]
Jo Minjoon laughed as he looked at his phone.
They had kept in touch through calls and messages, but having everyone gathered in one chatroom felt completely different.
Anderson snorted.
“See? I told you to make an account.”
“If you’d told me there was a group-chat function, I probably would’ve made one sooner.”
The reason Jo Minjoon had finally created a Starbook account after putting it off for so long was precisely because of this chatroom.
[Ivanna: I’m jealous. Both of you. I want to work at Rose Island too.]
[Minjoon: I’m not working yet. There are a lot of things we need to sort out before the restaurant opens, and even after it does, I won’t be able to work right away.]
[Joanne: Oh? Why?]
[Ivanna: Are you injured?]
[Minjoon: No, nothing like that. It’s a visa issue. It’ll probably take at least another two months to get approved.]
[Joanne: So you’re only on a tourist visa right now?]
[Minjoon: Yup. So I can’t work yet.]
Although he currently had no salary, everyday expenses were not a problem.
For one thing, Jo Minjoon was staying at Rachel’s house.
And even if he needed to buy something, he did not have to worry about money. It was not only because of what he had earned from appearing on Hunger Trip.
There was also a debit card in his wallet that Rachel had given him.
[Joanne: Either way, it must be amazing. Working with Rachel Rose! You’ve got it made, Minjoon.]
[Minjoon: I heard you were recently recruited as a head chef. You can’t say that to me.]
[Joanne: It’s a tiny restaurant with five tables. I’m embarrassed to even call myself a head chef.]
[Minjoon: Don’t say that. No matter what anyone says, you’re still a real head chef.]
[Ivanna: By the way, Kaya and Chloe aren’t here. I’m sure they’d be happy if they knew Minjoon joined.]
The moment Chloe’s name appeared, Jo Minjoon stared at the screen awkwardly.
Then, even though no one could see him, he consciously fixed his expression.
He was still in contact with Chloe, but hearing someone else mention her made him feel strangely uncomfortable.
There had not been much news from Kaya lately either.
At first, he had assumed she was angry because of the ‘you should lose weight’ comment Anderson had forced him to make.
But that probably was not the only reason.
She had been keeping limited contact with everyone else as well.
[Anderson: She’s probably filming. She’s been busy lately.]
[Marco: Oh? Minjoon’s here.]
[Joanne: You’re late, Marco.]
“Minjoon. Anderson.”
The two of them, absorbed in the chatroom, heard a stern voice behind them.
They slowly turned around.
An elderly man with neatly combed white hair stood there, looking at them with a cold gaze.
Jo Minjoon and Anderson immediately stood.
“Mr. Diaz, you’re here.”
His name was Isaac Diaz.
At first glance, he seemed like a stern man who would be difficult to approach.
And that impression was entirely correct.
The fact that Jo Minjoon still could not bring himself to call him Isaac and continued using ‘Mr. Diaz’ said enough about how difficult it was to speak comfortably around him.
“The head chef is calling you.”
“Oh. All right.”
Isaac might have been difficult to deal with, but that did not make him a bad person.
He was simply rigid.
He carried himself with the discipline of a soldier, and there was always something sharp about him.
Even his clothes reflected that personality.
There was not a single wrinkle in his sleeves, and his shirt had been crisply ironed. Just as the browning on grilled meat could change its flavour, Isaac’s clothes seemed to reveal exactly what kind of man he was.
And yet—
“Oh, you’re here.”
“Yes. I brought them.”
In front of Rachel, Isaac became almost like a young boy.
Or perhaps a gentle grandfather.
Hearing him speak in such a mild tone felt more unnatural than his usual sternness because the difference was so extreme.
It was enough that even Jo Minjoon and Anderson, neither of whom particularly enjoyed gossiping, had once whispered to each other about whether Isaac secretly harboured unrequited feelings for Rachel.
It had already been four days since they arrived in Los Angeles, and four days since Hunger Trip ended.
But Jo Minjoon and Anderson’s routines had not changed very much.
More accurately, Jo Minjoon’s had not.
Los Angeles was still unfamiliar territory to him.
Four days was hardly enough time to learn the area, its rules, or the small details necessary for everyday life.
For Anderson, however, it was different.
He had grown up here.
His parents, Fabio and Amelia, lived and operated their restaurant only about five minutes away from Rose Island’s Venice branch.
Which meant—
“Oh, Rachel. You’re already open. Minjoon’s here too. It’s been a while.”
They could drop by Rose Island whenever they wanted.
Jo Minjoon answered stiffly.
“…Mm. It’s been about ten hours. I saw you last night when you came to take Anderson home.”
“It seems I need to explain just how long and precious ten hours can be. Ten hours is enough for a raw chicken breast placed in a sous-vide bath to transform into something almost miraculous. And a stock simmering in a pot—”
“Mum! Please! I’m begging you. Are you planning to start nagging Minjoon like this too?”
“Anderson, I’ve always told you this. No matter how much you dislike hearing it, you shouldn’t dismiss everything your parents say as nagging.”
Anderson sighed.
Then, like every child who had learned how to survive parental nagging, he simply stopped responding.
It was usually a very effective strategy.
Amelia continued talking at him for a little longer before finally turning towards Rachel.
“It’s incredible. There are so many people practically camping outside.”
“About half are tourists or former regulars who came to see the place. The other half are reporters or chefs. Lately, quite a few people have been asking me to accept them even as stages.”
A stage.
In a company, the closest equivalent would be an intern.
Cleaning.
Washing dishes.
Wiping down stations.
Doing whatever menial work needed to be done.
That was what a stage did.
The remarkable part was that even chefs qualified to work as demi-chefs elsewhere were willing to lower themselves to stage positions if it meant working here.
Jo Minjoon moved closer to the window and looked towards the entrance.
Then he let out a quiet sound of admiration.
There really were a lot of people outside.
At least fifty.
Teacher Rachel… really is incredible.
“You two understand what kind of teacher you’re learning under, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’m still amazed by it.”
“But you should be a little worried too. Rose Island—especially this Venice branch—is famous for working its chefs brutally hard.”
“…Is that so?”
Jo Minjoon slyly glanced at Rachel.
Her expression remained calm.
So why did it suddenly look frightening?
Anderson spoke.
“Anyway, why are you two here right now? Even if the restaurant isn’t open yet, shouldn’t you be starting prep?”
“Don’t worry. Your father will go back soon and check on things.”
“…What? Why do I have to go?”
Fabio responded as though this was the first he had heard of it.
Amelia simply stared at him.
Fabio’s expression turned pitiful before he lowered his head in defeat.
Rachel spoke.
“I called them here. I needed a bridge.”
“A bridge?”
“There are quite a few people who are extremely angry with me. I needed someone to mediate between us.”
“…Can I ask who?”
“Jack Hudson.”
Rachel answered Jo Minjoon’s cautious question immediately.
Naturally, it was not a name he recognised.
Rachel continued slowly, her voice faint.
“He used to be the pâtissier here.”