Chapter 516: Overcoming One’s Limit (2)
Chapter 516: Overcoming One’s Limit (2)
Minjoon spoke quietly, “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. What goal should I pursue? When I become the best chef in the world, does that mean my life is complete? And when I get there, who will stand beside me?”
“Well, you’ll feel lonely at the top of the world.”
“Daniel wasn’t lonely.”
She fell silent, stunned by his words. He was right. Despite his culinary genius, Daniel never isolated himself. He was the most sociable person she’d ever known.
“I want every chef to reach their peak—not just to be the best alone. I aim to know what the best truly is, so I can teach others to achieve it. That’s the only way we surpass even Daniel. And to do that…”
Minjoon looked at her, his sentence unfinished. “I’m going to make Chef Rachel stop looking up to Chef Daniel.”
Rachel couldn’t respond; it felt shameful to deny her student’s pledge to surpass his limits and Daniel. She turned away.
While Lisa hesitated, Ella sprinkled soil over Jack’s coffin and, symbolically, over their limits.
Saying that death makes people mature is cruel. It means pain serves as fertilizer for growth—not accepting pain as pain, or sadness as sadness, but manipulating it for selfish ends. This is sad evidence of obsession with oneself.
“Don’t resent me, Jack. It’s your fault for leaving exactly when you wished,” Rachel murmured.
Though she believed Jack went to Heaven, she also felt his ghost lingered beside her. She looked around, sighed deeply, and recalled their recent conversation.
“I saw my limit, Rachel.”
Jack smiled brightly, flour dusted on his hands and forearms. Honestly, she didn’t understand. If he’d seen his limit, shouldn’t he despair?
She asked why he seemed so happy.
He said it was because seeing it meant he merely had to surpass himself now. At the time, she wondered if he’d aged mentally, thinking some limits were insurmountable walls.
But what of the bread she ate for the last time?
In her office, Rachel pulled out an old picture — she, Daniel, and Jack, young and confident. Reflecting on herself, she found the past strange.
“Isaac, why do you think I made no progress back then?”
Isaac, standing nearby, hesitated, knowing how much she had agonised. It was never easy to tell her all that despair was barren.
Finally, he said, “Well, you made excuses back then…”
“Excuses?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
She smiled bitterly but wasn’t surprised—it wasn’t new.
In a quiet voice, she added, “Minjoon told me if I wanted to be like Daniel, I should first be Daniel’s teacher. He even said if he couldn’t surpass Daniel, he couldn’t either.”
“Did he say that?”
“At first, I argued there’s no rule against a student surpassing their teacher. But saying that, I felt shabby because I still hadn’t surpassed my rival even as my student exceeded me.”
Isaac bowed his head. Rachel clenched her fist.
“Isaac, do you think I can really surpass Daniel?”
Instead of answering directly, Isaac looked at her. Any answer, yes or no, would be meaningless. It all depended on her perspective.
He said, “Well, it’s better to try than not try.”
“That’s it!” she exclaimed, nodding with a pout at his unassailable response.
She thought of Minjoon—what he said at Jack’s funeral. He believed she was as skilled as Daniel. She felt grateful for his faith, more than she had in herself, which made her feel lonely and empty.
When did I start believing I couldn’t surpass Daniel?
Back when Daniel was alive, she had felt trapped by that belief—he was far ahead, too great to catch.
But now, with vivid memories of Daniel’s skills, could she catch him? She didn’t know. She felt able in spirit but feared trying would only end in despair without surpassing him.
Yet she had urged Minjoon to face that despair. Was it right to burden him with a wish she couldn’t fulfil herself?
Isaac said, “Jack lived and died as Jack.”
“Yes, he did.”
“Rachel, you must live as Rachel.”
“What kind of person do you think I am?”
“Someone who doesn’t hesitate.”
“Catherine, call me aunt! Aunt!”
“Annn…”
“Good, almost there. Well done!”
“Why do you think she pronounced it right?”
Watching Chloe laugh after hugging Catherine, Minjoon smiled teasingly. Of course, he understood Chloe’s joy seeing Catherine beam. For a moment, he almost forgot Jack’s death.
At that moment someone touched his arm. He turned to find Ella leaning on him quietly. She said nothing—likely too hoarse from crying, too weak.
“Do you want some jelly?”
“No.”
Ella shook her head. Minjoon sighed and hugged her. Nestling under his chin, she whispered, “I want to see my grandfather.”
He looked at her silently—her heart was delicate; careless words might hurt. Then he glanced at Marco, who gave him a brief look. Minjoon rose with Ella in his arms.
“Okay, let’s go see him.”
“Can I?”
“Marco will show you, right?”
“Me?”
“Come along anyway.”
Minjoon led the way; Marco followed reluctantly, glancing awkwardly at the others. They seemed to think Minjoon had a plan, so nobody paid attention to Marco.
They arrived at the baking room.
“Is Grandpa here?” Ella asked.
“Ella, do you remember Grandpa making bread here?”
“A little bit.”
“Marco will help you make bread. All the flour, the mill, and the oven here hold Jack’s soul and memories. When you make bread, you’re with Grandpa, okay?”
Ella looked around blankly, then nodded, gazing at Minjoon.
He smiled but wasn’t sure she truly understood. This was all he could do for her now.
Under Marco’s guidance, Ella began kneading dough slowly. She couldn’t make quality bread—not yet—but she wasn’t making bread for quality. She was making it in memory of her grandpa.
She managed to make ordinary rye bread, looking curiously at the baking oven as she paced nearby.
“Does that mean I saw Grandpa when making this?”
“Yes. You can feel his touch and warmth when you make bread. When you want to see Grandpa, tell Marco. Then you’ll feel his presence here a little…”
Ella clutched the bread in both hands, tears falling from her eyes. She wiped them with her fist, then offered some bread to Minjoon.
“Uncle Minjoon, try it.”
“Can I?”
“Yes, it’s delicious.”
He smiled and ate a piece.
Truthfully, it wasn’t delicious, but it carried her warmth.