Chapter 613: Flowers on the Cliff (1)
Chapter 613: Flowers on the Cliff (1)
Of course, Minjoon didn’t choose Jo Reggiano and Six Meats for the menu on a whim. He had a strategic reason for including both. At the same time, he was mindful of their customers. Fans of Minjoon and Kaya naturally wanted to taste their signature dishes.
It would have been wrong for Minjoon to show only Jo Reggiano and Six Meats to customers and expect them to continue supporting those dishes forever. But excluding their beloved signature dishes entirely—just because he was determined not to stagnate and wanted to develop new recipes—wouldn’t be ideal either. So Minjoon and Kaya decided to include Jo Reggiano and Six Meats on the chef’s recommendation list for only the first two months after opening the restaurant.
With her chin resting on her hand, Kaya said, “As for the butter, is it okay to use plain butter? Of course, we could make it ourselves, but I don’t think we should risk spoiling the taste by adding herbs.”
“Yeah, if you obsess over making a unique flavour, you often end up ruining it. What matters most is the condition of the bread…”
Depending on the type of bread served, the butter accompanying it should differ.
Kaya glanced up and asked Minjoon, “Have you heard from Marco yet?”
“Well, he says he needs more time.”
“Gosh, how long is he going to keep us waiting? The restaurant’s opening is almost here.”
“He said he’d get back to us before we hire chefs. So let’s wait.”
If Minjoon placed an ad for patissiers, many would apply, but he doubted anyone could match Marco’s skill. Talented patissiers already tended to have dedicated partners.
In that respect, Marco—with his gentle personality and excellent baking skills—was an ideal candidate to be their patissier. But the problem was Lisa. Given that she ran her own bakery while serving as the patissier of Rose Island, Marco’s help was almost indispensable to her.
I hope Lisa recovers soon and can run her bakery again.
He felt a heavy weight thinking of the ill woman, but he quickly shook it off—worrying about her only depressed him further.
He looked at Kaya and asked, “People keep asking if we’re going to rate our restaurant in the Jotus Guide. What do you think?”
“Absolutely. We should.”
“Do you think you can rate our restaurant objectively? It might be hard.”
“Do you think we were impartial when rating other restaurants? Our ratings were pretty subjective. So let’s just give our own restaurant a 100, to be safe.”
“Man, what a great conscience you have!”
He shook his head, helpless. He quickly studied her expression, then said quietly, “After all, we ended up opening a restaurant like this.”
“Uh, so what?”
“In the future, we’ll have the same worries, the same workplace, the same house, and the same family. I’ll worry about what you worry about. And when you’re happy, I’ll be happy too.”
“Hey, don’t beat around the bush. What’s your point?” she asked impatiently.
He looked at her in silence, recalling the first time they met. Back then, her smoky, heavier makeup seemed to reflect a strong spirit. Now, looking back, her makeup had been poor; her softer, gentler look was far more mature compared to that rustic style.
Kaya had grown up and matured, as had Minjoon. Their love deepened. They held hands, kissed, and made love. They followed all the usual steps every normal couple did—except for one thing.
“Remember when I told you this before? I feel like I’ll gain confidence once I have my own restaurant. Now, I finally do.”
Kaya nodded, barely listening. She didn’t really understand what he meant. To be honest, she wasn’t interested—she’d heard his nonsense many times.
So Minjoon resolved to show her by actions, not words. He grasped her hand, but she immediately flinched at the cold touch of his fingers.
He slipped a ring onto her finger—gold encircling platinum, with a brilliant diamond gleaming in the centre.
Uh?
She stared blankly at the ring on her finger. It was Minjoon who put it there. But why only now?
He said, “I think I proposed rather haphazardly last time.”
He grinned at her. “So this time, I want to do it properly.”
Of course, she found his clumsy proposal amusing.
Nonetheless, her heart fluttered at his awkwardness.
Summer in California was usually sunny. It was a city that rarely suited the word ‘gloomy’ in any way. People there were lively, many from across America and the world, who did not sneer at those devoting themselves to their dreams.
That vibrancy could even be found in the most depressing places. Watching people in wheelchairs or chatting cheerfully in lounges beneath the windows of the patient wards, visitors often wondered if this was really a hospital housing so many sick individuals.
“It’s amazing. It seems like everyone here is suffering, yet some smile so brightly.”
Many had lost limbs or had bodies wrapped in bandages. Lisa’s illness was as serious as theirs, but theirs probably posed less of a threat to their lives.
Still, their illnesses were deep enough for them to feel unhappy. That was why Lisa found their happy smiles and moods unfamiliar.
Lisa’s doctor glanced where she was looking and nodded.
“It’s not just the medicine and surgery that cure patients. Hope matters too. A positive outlook leads to better outcomes. Hospitals usually insist on mostly white, bright interiors so patients can visually focus on brightness. Lisa, do you have any hope?”
“Well. Having hope means you’re more concerned about your problem, right? I try not to think about it…”
Maybe she wanted to escape. The doctor watched her quietly.
As a doctor, he had grown used to patients dying. He had seen many. He shared their suffering, and every time one passed away, he drank alone after work.
He had sunk into a kind of inertia. Even if Lisa died, he would drink.
If she sought his advice, he would gladly take the time to help, but he probably felt nothing either way because he knew none of this could stop inevitable death.
He told patients about hope, though some survived without it, and others died despite it. A doctor should be perfect—Lisa’s doctor was pretty close—but he was too tired to try lifting her spirits.
So their conversations were often perfunctory.
Clearing his throat, he said gently, “Your condition isn’t that bad. Luckily, the tumour hasn’t grown. Are you taking your medication regularly?”
“Yeah. Even though I can’t feel the tumour, I just can’t shake the feeling I’m sick. My body and mind feel foreign. My body feels heavy, and my mind dull. Day by day, I feel less alive. I seem to be just extending my life.”
“You’ll feel better with time…”
Of course, he was lying. He could not stop treatment until the tumour vanished completely. And the treatment would only worsen her physical state.
This was a race against time. Lisa had held on well so far, fighting strong even with slim chances of survival. That was why the doctor respected her. He had once told her she had six months to live, yet one and a half years later, she was still alive—quite hopeful for her.
Feeling a little miserable, the doctor grew silent.
Lisa, apparently uncomfortable with the quiet, spoke.
“Is there anything else you want to say to me?”
“No, nothing. You know when I’ll see you again, so I’ll stop here today.”
“Alright. Thanks. See you next time.”
She grabbed her bag and stood.
At that moment, the doctor nervously tapped his desk and began to speak.