I Made It
"You're making him everything on the menu?"
Seo Yugyeom wore a rare expression of surprise.
Baek Sang nodded with an awkward smile. Ever since the sparring practice the other day, Seo Yugyeom was no longer someone he could treat quite so casually.
Seo Yugyeom poked his head out past the kitchen door to get a look at the man's face. Just to be safe, he subtly released a thread of qi to sense him, but nothing came back.
"Money?"
"Paid in advance."
"Well, then."
Seo Yugyeom nodded and checked the remaining ingredients in the kitchen. He couldn't make every dish on the menu, but at least he could fill the table.
Before long, he gave Baek Seol a few instructions, and the two of them began cooking.
The table filled up quickly.
Braised pork belly in red sauce, Hubei-style mapo tofu, stir-fried bok choy, five-spice pork, sweet-and-sour ribs, sliced cold chicken, beef noodles, and dumplings besides.
The man regarded the spread with an intrigued look on his face.
"Good aroma, good color."
"Our cook is famous around these parts for his skill."
Baek Sang said it with a faint smile, then flinched in surprise. For some reason, he felt oddly pleased at hearing the food praised.
It felt strange, as if he had somehow become a real waiter himself.
"Ahem. What will you have to drink?"
"Nothing. That stuff only ruins the taste of the food."
"Haha, I feel the same way. Then please, enjoy your meal."
Baek Sang thought the man must genuinely love food. As a Taoist who never touched alcohol himself, he could agree with that sentiment to a degree.
And so the man's meal began, and Baek Sang returned to his usual post.
Seomun Ak still wore a sulky expression over having taken a last-minute guest. Shinmok had finally stepped out for once, and he'd been hoping to enjoy his first real break in ages.
The man approached his meal with utter seriousness. Every time he chewed and swallowed a bite, his expression shifted from moment to moment.
He was clearly judging each dish in his head.
What is he doing?
The man began doing something peculiar.
He was rearranging the positions of the dishes he'd tasted.
Watching from beyond the kitchen, Seo Yugyeom felt a flicker of admiration. The dishes the man placed to the right of his water cup were Seo Yugyeom's; the ones on the left had been made by Baek Seol.
Just as the meal was in full swing, a man and a woman entered the inn.
Seomun Ak's face scrunched up the moment he recognized them.
It was Tang Soyeon and Seok Taeshin. The last he'd heard, the two had already left Uichang — he never expected them to turn up again.
How embarrassing.
Seomun Ak felt deeply ashamed to be seen in this state by Tang Soyeon.
True to form, Tang Soyeon was watching him and Baek Sang with evident amusement.
The disciples and children of great clans and noble houses, working as waiters in a tiny inn like this — it was a sight one rarely got to see.
"Only one customer?"
Tang Soyeon said it pointedly.
The man, who had been quietly enjoying his food, answered by pointing at his table with his chopsticks.
"I'm one man worth a hundred, so we're fine."
Tang Soyeon glanced sideways at him.
The man flashed her a sly smile.
Their eyes met for a moment. Apparently annoyed at being chatted up for no reason, Tang Soyeon whipped her head away.
"We came to say goodbye before leaving. A bowl of plain noodles each, please."
With that, Tang Soyeon led Seok Taeshin to a seat. Seomun Ak heaved a sigh and headed for the kitchen.
Baek Sang did his best to avoid meeting Tang Soyeon's eyes. In his experience, whenever she wore that amused expression, trouble followed.
Not again.
This was the inn of the very man Elder Hyunwoon wished to take in as a disciple. If he caused another commotion, a mere scolding would not be the end of it.
Even so, the man spoke up to Tang Soyeon again.
"A young lady from a distinguished house, calling the waiters 'young heroes,' hmm? Those waiters must have stories of their own, I'd wager?"
Tang Soyeon regarded him for a moment, then turned her head away and ignored him. It should have been irritating, but the man simply burst into hearty laughter.
"A sharp-tongued little miss, like a scorpion."
At the word scorpion, Tang Soyeon's face darkened.
Of all the expressions in the world, he had to pick a venomous creature as his example. She thought it a wretched coincidence.
Just in case, she carefully probed the man's breathing, but naturally detected nothing unusual.
The man laughed heartily once more.
"Take it as a compliment, don't take offense. It's a harsh world out there — a bit of grit goes a long way toward staying alive."
"H-hey, just eat your meal."
Seok Taeshin cut in with a threatening tone. Watching this, Seomun Ak lamented inwardly that he should have been the one playing that part.
The man turned his head with a hearty chuckle.
"Frightening young people, aren't you."
With that, the man returned to his meal.
Before long, using the exact center of the table as his dividing line, he sorted every plate to one side or the other.
Nodding with a satisfied look, he pointed at the dishes on the left.
"It seems there are two cooks here, hm? Who made the dishes on this side?"
Baek Sang approached and turned to check the kitchen. He had no way of knowing who had made which dish.
Looking in, he saw his sister Baek Seol staring back at him with a face full of worry. It was plainly obvious the dishes were hers.
"May I ask why?"
"Come, look. The braised pork on the right here — truly a well-made dish."
The man speared a piece with his chopsticks. Its signature springy texture was beautifully intact.
"But the dishes on the left are uniformly terrible. The bok choy is undercooked, so it squeaks between the teeth, while the sweet-and-sour ribs are overcooked to the point of hardness."
Everything the man said was correct.
Baek Seol had shown real talent for cooking, but she'd never before handled this many orders at once, and mistakes had slipped through.
"I am a customer who paid for a meal. What do you mean by serving me food made by someone who doesn't even deserve to be called a cook?"
The man pressed the point bluntly.
At the sudden turn of events, Tang Soyeon and Seok Taeshin watched as if a interesting show had started up.
Seomun Ak cleared his throat and quietly slipped away. He had no wish to be seen dealing with a local troublemaker in front of Tang Soyeon, of all people.
Baek Sang hesitated over what to say. Baek Seol was, admittedly, still an unskilled cook — an apology was in order.
But Baek Sang was a young martial artist too, and bowing his head in front of peers and rising stars of his own generation stung his pride somewhat.
While he wavered, the man's words grew rougher.
"Enough. Have the cook who sent out this garbage step forward. I should like to see the face of the fool."
Tang Soyeon and Seok Taeshin exchanged glances. The situation seemed to be getting more interesting by the minute.
At the man's coarse manner, Baek Sang finally made up his mind.
He bowed his head to the man.
"I apologize. You will not be charged for any dish that displeased you."
It was a unilateral decision.
He didn't know whether Jin Seongun would be pleased when he returned. If it came to it, he would make up the shortfall from his own purse.
He decided it was better than a pointless disturbance breaking out in the inn.
Because the offer was so unusually generous, he assumed the man would back down gracefully.
Contrary to Baek Sang's expectations, however, the man's expression grew only more sinister.
"No. This was never about money. Did I not say it plainly? Make it as if your life depended on it."
With that, the man drew a blade from his robes. A short chicken cleaver.
Baek Sang's brow creased slightly at the sight. The man was clearly not right in the head.
Should I throw him out?
If it had been yesterday, he wouldn't have hesitated.
But watching Jin Seongun handle troublemakers earlier that day had left a deep impression on him. Like the subtle principle of softness overcoming hardness in Taiji, hadn't Jin Seongun subdued the man with gentle words alone?
It was no accident that the Elder had been so taken with him, Baek Sang thought. By contrast, if he himself drove the man out by force, it would feel like losing to Jin Seongun in every way that mattered.
The man might become his martial uncle someday, but he was still a martial artist of his own generation, and his pride was pricked.
And so Baek Sang chose the hard road over the easy one.
Just as Jin Seongun had done that day, he would use the yielding-overcomes-hardness of Taiji to soothe and placate the man.
"I understand your displeasure completely. If you would only tell me how I might—"
That was the moment.
A frantic shout came from the kitchen.
"Dodge!"
Baek Sang flung his head back on pure instinct.
A pale white streak tore past the spot where his face had just been.
The chicken cleaver.
A thin line of blood appeared across the bridge of Baek Sang's nose. A heartbeat later, and he would have been blinded for life.
"You insane bastard!"
Seomun Ak spat out a curse from across the room. Tang Soyeon and Seok Taeshin shot to their feet as well.
Baek Sang blinked, momentarily dazed.
I couldn't even see it properly.
He'd been careless, yes, but this was beyond reason.
Baek Sang was a First-Rate master in his own right.
There was only one thing this could mean.
The man was a master of such caliber that no one in the inn — not even Seo Yugyeom — had been able to gauge him.
Tang Soyeon drew a stiletto, and Seok Taeshin unsheathed his sword. The crimson energy of fist qi began to gather around Seomun Ak's fists.
Baek Seol and Seo Yugyeom emerged from the kitchen as well. Unfortunately, Baek Seol and Baek Sang had yet to have their confiscated Taiji Swords returned.
A suffocating tension settled over the room.
Surrounded alone by rising stars of the younger generation, the man remained utterly at ease.
His gaze passed over Baek Sang's shoulder and came to rest on Seo Yugyeom and Baek Seol.
"Which of you two made this garbage?"
Baek Seol's lips trembled.
But before she could speak, Seo Yugyeom stepped forward.
"I made it."
The man looked Seo Yugyeom up and down. An unmistakable flicker of intrigue passed through his eyes.
"Are you a cook or a martial artist? How is it that a mere cook's martial skill runs deeper than the scions of the Tang Clan and Mount Wudang?"
At the man's question, everyone but Seo Yugyeom started in shock. None of them had imagined he knew who they were.
Seo Yugyeom, however, stayed calm. He had already more or less guessed the man's identity — a benefit of the endless stream of intelligence he'd absorbed during his days as a Special Grade assassin of Salmak.
"And what would you be, senior? Cook or martial artist?"
"You speak as though you know me."
"You're Sikmugaek, senior."
At that name, the young martial artists froze. His infamy was so widespread that even young fighters fresh out on their first journey into Jianghu knew it.
"D-did you say Sikmugaek?"
Seomun Ak, who had been so bold a moment ago, discreetly backed away. Seok Taeshin went without saying — even Tang Soyeon and the Baek siblings wavered where they stood.
Such was the weight carried by the name of a First-Class Murim Public Enemy. These were beings one could not corner or pressure by leaning on the backing of a great clan or a sect.
Even the finest talents of the Five Noble Clans and Nine Great Sects would have to face him head-on, as a devil of the highest order.
Sikmugaek gave a dry chuckle, then suddenly pointed his chicken cleaver at Seo Yugyeom.
"So it wasn't you, but that girl who made the dish."
The cleaver moved slowly until it pointed at Baek Seol.
In that instant, Baek Seol's whole frame jolted violently.
Baek Sang threw himself in front of her on instinct.
"How dare those without the资格— how dare those without the right parade their cooking about so shamelessly?"
Sikmugaek was infamous for killing cooks. Strangely enough, he spared those with skill and put the untalented to hideous deaths.
Seo Yugyeom knew why.
"Senior, get a grip. How many years has it been since they threw you out of the Royal Kitchen, and you're still taking it out on random people?"
The Royal Kitchen — the Eoseonbang — was the kitchen of the imperial palace.
The honor every cook under heaven dreamed of, and the man who had once stood at its very summit was Sikmugaek.
At Seo Yugyeom's words, Sikmugaek's eyebrows twitched.
"And what would you know of it, prattling away like that?"
"Came to know a few things, one way or another. That you came out of the Royal Kitchen, and that you were ousted because another cook outshone you."
As Seo Yugyeom spoke, the young martial artists looked at Sikmugaek with fresh disbelief. How could anyone commit such hideous atrocities over so petty a grievance?
But there was something they didn't know.
"Do you know what happens to a Royal Kitchen cook when he's cast out?"
"The tendons of all four limbs are severed. So that the one who cooked for the Emperor may never cook for lowly commoners. A truly cruel custom, isn't it."
An absurd justification — that the Emperor's food and the food of base commoners could never be one and the same.
Just as Seo Yugyeom said, Sikmugaek had been expelled, crippled, his limb tendons cut. Outraged and aggrieved, he had not slept a proper night since.
Worse still, the food of the man who had supplanted him as Royal Kitchen cook had been genuinely, irredeemably bad.
"That man was no cook. He was a politician. He clawed his way into the Emperor's favor with every kind of dirty trick and stole that seat. I simply cooked with all my heart. And this was my reward."
Sikmugaek rolled up his sleeve. Deep scars, gouged joint by joint, came into view. Wounds left by blades the day he was expelled.
"So I learned martial arts. Fortunately, I had a talent for it. When the time came, I meant to find that man and kill him."
"You killed him?"
Seo Yugyeom did his best to draw the man's story out of him. The reason was simple: with the forces currently present, they had absolutely no chance against Sikmugaek.
He was praying for Baekun Geom, or Shinmok, or failing that, Jin Seongun, to come back.
Sikmugaek shook his head. Seo Yugyeom asked again, as if genuinely curious.
"Why didn't you kill him?"
"He was already dead."
"That's how those places are."
Seo Yugyeom said it with the tone of a man who understood. The new cook had doubtless been expelled in turn for some reason or other. Unlike Sikmugaek, he had apparently failed to endure the wounds and died outright.
"Then isn't it over? Your target is gone — so why do you go around butchering innocent cooks?"
"Because every time I see hacks with no right to the trade strutting around calling themselves cooks, I think of that man."
The young martial artists stared at Sikmugaek as if at a lunatic. In Seo Yugyeom's eyes, that look was entirely justified. The man truly was insane.
"No. Senior, let's be honest with each other."
"Honest about what?"
"It's the martial art you learned, isn't it? A man who did nothing but cook his whole life doesn't just wake up one day a Transcendental master out of sheer talent. You learned an art you were never meant to learn, and this is what it made of you."
"……"
Sikmugaek fell silent and glared at Seo Yugyeom.
Tang Soyeon and the other young martial artists looked at Seo Yugyeom anew. He wasn't merely strong for a cook — they began to sense there was a history behind the man.
Seo Yugyeom met Sikmugaek's eyes dead-on and continued.
"I understand your rage, senior. But you've aimed it in the wrong direction. Forget the innocent cooks — if you must, point your blade at the Emperor himself."
"C-cook Seo!"
Baek Sang cried out in alarm. However one looked at it, saying such things about the Emperor was gravely dangerous.
Oblivious, Seo Yugyeom went on as if it were nothing.
"But you never had the guts for that, did you? The ones guarding the Emperor are masters who could carve you to pieces ten times over. Hounded across the land by the Martial Alliance, you couldn't so much as dream of setting foot in the Imperial Palace."
"SILENCE!"
A murderous aura bloomed across Sikmugaek's entire body.
In the same breath, every young martial artist but Seo Yugyeom staggered back two full steps.
Facing that energy head-on, the reality of the thing before them — a First-Class Murim Public Enemy — struck home all over again.
This absolute madman—
Seok Taeshin, whose martial skill was the weakest of them all, felt fear close around his throat, strangling his breath.
"Senior. Let me offer a word, as a fellow martial artist and a fellow cook. I'm telling you this out of genuine pity, with my life on the line, so you'd best take it to heart."
With that, Seo Yugyeom shifted sideways with an easy, natural motion.
Seok Taeshin immediately felt his airway open. Seo Yugyeom had placed himself to block a portion of Sikmugaek's aura.
Before long, Seo Yugyeom drew the Heaven-Killing Short Saber and leveled it at Sikmugaek without ceremony. Sikmugaek sneered, yet secretly waited for Seo Yugyeom's next words, intending to shred him to ribbons the instant he spouted nonsense.
Seo Yugyeom spoke.
"First of all, senior, you're a damn fool."
"……"
Sikmugaek blinked. He felt heat flood his face all at once. Unbothered, Seo Yugyeom pressed on.
"Think about it. Maybe the Emperor simply preferred that conniving hack's cooking. On what evidence, exactly, do you believe your food was better than his?"
"Shut your mouth! My cooking was plainly better than that man's—"
"No, you shut up, senior! You just can't bring yourself to admit you were the loser. Well, people do tend to blame others for their own failures, so I suppose it can't be helped."
"……"
"But you learned some warped martial art, it half-addled your brain, and now you roam around murdering random people for no reason — and on top of that, you dress it up with some grand justification? You think anyone's going to pity you for that? You only ever pick victims weaker than yourself, and still you act so wronged, so righteous—"
Midway through his blistering tirade, Seo Yugyeom's voice trailed off.
Because the murderous aura that had been blazing around Sikmugaek all this while had gone utterly calm in an instant. Worse, the man was wearing a sly, sinister smile.
"Sharp mind for one so young."
Sikmugaek was complimenting him.
Seo Yugyeom had been deliberately provoking the man's anger. As an assassin, killing the target was all that mattered, so he'd employed every trick in the book — feints and misdirection were the most basic of basics.
But none of it had worked on Sikmugaek. The reason was simple.
Alone, Seo Yugyeom would have kept up the act in perfect composure, biding his time for an opening.
But the other young martial artists were here. Guarding them had siphoned away his focus without his realizing it.
A liar whose nerves betray him can deceive no one.
Seo Yugyeom, sheepish, scratched his neck with the Heaven-Killing Short Saber and let out a terse assessment.
"……Well. I'm screwed."