Chapter 604: Two Sides of the Coin (7)
Chapter 604: Two Sides of the Coin (7)
The atmosphere of the Grand Chef competition had grown increasingly tense. The participants were at that nerve-wracking stage, where every moment felt charged with pressure. Only six contestants remained, and one would soon be crowned the winner. The risk of elimination from the finals was now far greater than before.
Among these six survivors, Gwen nervously bit her nails more than usual. As a chef, she didn’t need to keep long nails, but her constant nail-biting betrayed her anxiety. “Stop biting your nails!” Peter whispered sternly.
Gwen glanced at Peter, then lowered her gaze to her hands, folding her fists tightly and tucking them beneath her arms as she slouched in her chair.
Peter sighed. “You won’t get a better score just by being anxious. I’m telling you this as someone experienced. You have to fight and win.”
“Sometimes I respect you, you know that, Peter?”
“Man, that’s the best nonsense I’ve ever heard.”
“I’d have committed suicide if I were you,” Gwen muttered.
Peter’s expression hardened before he let out a long sigh.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blame you. I just feel terrible when I hear myself blame myself. I wondered how awful it must have felt for you, with everyone pointing fingers at you.”
“Yeah, it’s awful. And I couldn’t even blow off steam by swearing at them!”
Then Peter held up his wrist. Seeing the scars — scratch marks — it was clear they had nothing to do with a stumble or fall.
“Oh my…”
“Well, I was foolish, didn’t win, and couldn’t even die trying. That’s why I’m still here.”
“Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologise,” Peter said coldly.
Ironically, these two made for the most tragic and pitiful duo in the Grand Chef House; Peter was depressed, while Gwen had lost hope in the world. Yet their pain made them strangely beautiful.
Peter, as a writer, found the bleakness of their predicament oddly poetic—their lives, buffeted by the world and poised on the edge of a cliff, made perfect material for literature. But for them, it was just misery.
He sat gently beside Gwen and suddenly thought she was beautiful — though, realistically, she was not. She was nothing like Kaya. Kaya also hailed from a slum and was determined to succeed, but she retained her girlish charm.
If Kaya was a blooming flower, Gwen was a withered one, like a honeycomb that had lost all its neatness and youth.
Peter felt a pang of sympathy.
Gwen looked at him. His forced confidence was already shattered and useless. She saw his pitiful eyes and something stirred in him—his heart pounding uncontrollably.
He didn’t understand why.
He thought it was because he had found a kindred spirit. They were both broken, neither sane nor shattered, awkwardly existing between two extremes. If their lives were like a coin, it was spinning now, tossed on the desk after being flicked from their fingers. What did they see? Heads? Tails? Or perhaps the edge itself?
“How do I look?” Kaya asked, adjusting her earrings.
“Perfect. Very pretty,” Minjoon repeated as usual.
“But I don’t like the colour.”
“Do you know how many times you’ve said that?”
“I don’t know. And I still don’t like the colour.”
“What colour do you want?”
“It shouldn’t stand out. A chef going out to cook can’t look like she’s dressing for a party. But I don’t want people to think I haven’t worn any makeup at all. They’d look down on me.”
“Who do you think looks down on you for not wearing makeup?”
“Women,” she said, putting the earrings back in their box without looking at him. “Women always judge other women who might look better, no matter if they’re cooking or not. That’s why I want to wear makeup but not make it obvious. Got it?”
“Well, the earrings you wore before were really great.”
“Good. Thanks. How about these?”
Perfect. Cool. Great.
Minjoon repeated such compliments often. Before every live broadcast, Kaya and he went through these small rituals. But then she’d stand before the viewers, with her hair hastily done as if she’d just woken up and washed her face properly.
“Good morning! I turned on today’s broadcast to show you how to make breakfast, but I also have an announcement. No, not an advertisement. Just our announcement.”
A comment popped up: [It’s nice trying to look natural, but you need to fix your hair. It looks like you just rubbed it on the pillow.]
She actually had rubbed her hair on a pillow to appear careless.
“Let’s have breakfast first. What do you want? Don’t ask for anything grand! Hey, no grand breakfasts!”
Others commented: [Why would I want simple food from a chef?] [Why don’t you make fried eggs?]
As usual, netizens ignored Kaya’s intentions. Minjoon, noticing her shoulders trembling, wrapped an arm around them and poked his face into the frame.
“Since everyone has an opinion, I’ll just cook what I want. I’m making salmon on scallops, with a bit of white wine sauce. Objections?”
[Man, he asks and then answers!] many complained in chat, but Minjoon knew they’d never stop if he tried to reply.
They began cooking. While he sliced scallops, Kaya stir-fried vegetables, took them off the heat, then roasted the scallops in oil.
They didn’t just cook; sometimes they explained their methods; other times they chatted about unrelated subjects.
“Scallops are hard to cook well. You need perfect heat control. Too hot, and the outside burns; too cool, and the scallops get tough from overcooking.”
Minjoon mainly explained. Kaya disliked his patient tone—it wasn’t her style to teach cooking.
She spoke up, “By the way, we’re interviewing new hires. If you’re interested, send us an application. We want experienced candidates, but chef apprentices can apply too. Keep that in mind.”
That was their first announcement on their internet TV. Barely newsworthy, but the next one would spark controversy.
Moments later, Kaya dropped a bombshell.
“And we’re inviting you to submit your recipes.”
[You want our recipes?]
[Recipes usually come from chefs, right?]
[People expect your restaurant’s own dishes. This sounds like too much.]
“Oh, hear me out! When you submit a recipe, we’ll review it. If we select it, Irregular Lab will sell it, crediting you. You’ll get a commission based on sales. Doesn’t that sound good?”
[Wow, that’s how their business works!]
[Isn’t that unrealistic?]
[Hey, nothing starts realistic. Turning unreal ideas into reality—that’s the point, got it?]
[Whether it succeeds or not, I think it’s interesting. Even if you’re not into cooking, you could become a cuisine researcher with a good recipe—and earn commission.]
Viewers debated Kaya’s bold idea with lively discussion. Regardless of success, it was perfect material for their gossip.