Gourmet Yoo Hwa-yeon (1)
Gourmet Yoo Hwa-yeon. She had one major problem.
She was born with Innate True Taste, an extreme sensitivity to flavors. Unless the food was so delicious it made her pupils dilate, it rarely satisfied her tongue. That was why she'd abandoned martial arts training to become a gourmet. Some envied her ability, but to Hwa-yeon, it was like a shackle.
Even after trying every dish in the world, nothing satisfies my palate.
She'd visited renowned master chefs across the Central Plains, sampling their famous creations, and even traveled beyond to the outer martial world's celebrated inns. But everything tasted bland. Some fell short due to imbalanced ingredients, others from poorly mixed seasonings. She'd once found a truly tasty dish and returned for more, only to find the flavor subtly off. Human hands could never achieve perfection.
This led to bans from various establishments. Her critiques wounded the pride of lifelong master chefs—it was only natural. She sustained herself solely on fruit, which required no flavor harmony.
Yoo Hwa-yeon craved delicious food. Something that perfectly harmonized all things in the universe, unchanging every time. Dreaming of that, she wandered the marketplace when whispers caught her ear.
"No way, there's an inn there?"
"I'm telling you, yeah. Heard it from some Beggars' Sect fellows, so it's probably legit. They say the food's incredible."
Their words piqued her interest immensely.
"Excuse me."
"Huh?"
"What was that you just said?"
"Oh, the inn? Just something I heard."
"Tell me more."
What Yoo Hwa-yeon heard was this: In a haunted bamboo forest lived a master chef crafting dishes that embodied the universe's perfect harmony. Once tasted, you couldn't escape its allure—no one tried it just once.
She prepared to leave immediately. Rumors weren't reliable, even from Beggars' Sect beggars—word of mouth twisted them. But nothing to lose. For Yoo Hwa-yeon, unable to savor any dish with joy, this was like rain in a drought.
"I'm Gourmet Yoo Hwa-yeon. I came because I heard this place serves the ultimate delicacy harmonizing all things in the universe."
The woman who introduced herself propped her sword hilt on her head like a hat and scanned the convenience store. Her revealed face was stunningly beautiful. A high, straight nose. Cherry lips. Large eyes with deep, rich black pupils. A confident, bold expression. Not quite nation-toppling, but breathtaking nonetheless.
She marveled at the fluorescent lights—top-grade night pearls to martial artists—and gasped again at the ceiling air conditioner blowing cool air. But that was it. The store's wonders meant nothing to her.
She plopped into a folding chair, crossed her legs, and tapped her foot impatiently.
"Clerk! Bring your most confident dish."
I had no idea where she'd heard her rumors, but her attitude was downright arrogant. Normally, customers paid and made their own food. Martial folks wouldn't know that. Guess I'd have to serve her myself.
"Um, we have 1-coin, 3-coin, and 5-coin options. What'll it be?"
"Money's no object. Just bring your best."
What was my best? Convenience store food was all the same. Sighing in annoyance, I headed to the bento shelf. She said money didn't matter—maybe the priciest 7-course deluxe? Nah. For our first official paying customer, it had to be ramen, the essence of the convenience store. My most confident pick. Jang Su-cheon had loved the hamburger, after all. It wasn't like our food bombed with martial tastes entirely.
The question was which ramen. Standing before the shelf, I pondered. To me, they were all similar: spicy beef stew, black sesame, Shin Ramyun, spicy chicken, beef bone broth. Just flavor tweaks on the same noodle base.
I grabbed the black sesame ramen. Its nutty savoriness seemed perfect. Peeled the packaging, poured hot water, and carried it to her table.
Setting it on the plastic table, I said, "Here you go. That's 5 coins."
One of the pricier ones. Yoo Hwa-yeon eyed the black sesame ramen, tilting her head.
"This is supposed to be the ultimate delicacy harmonizing the universe?"
She flicked it disdainfully with a finger. Honestly, whatever. Don't like it? Don't eat. But you opened it, so pay up.
I stood silent. Misreading me, she looked up with intrigued eyes.
"What? Ego bruised? What's with that face?"
*Pay up already.* Seeing my unchanged expression, she interpreted again.
"Oh ho, that means you're that confident?"
I hadn't said a word.
"I've been to countless inns, and they all brag like that. 'This is our finest dish!' Never seen one deliver."
What did she expect me to do? I didn't make it. It's a mass-produced sodium bomb loaded with MSG. Just pay.
Maybe I should slap a huge "PREPAY ONLY" sign on the door.
"Curious what makes this inn different. You know my reputation, right? Mediocre fare won't satisfy my tongue."
Who even are you? About three minutes passed. I said, "If you're eating, eat now...?"
"Fine. For your effort, I'll try it."
She lifted her chopsticks, peeled the lid. Steam rose invitingly. As she went to slurp noodles, her brows furrowed.
What? This shoddy dish?
Yoo Hwa-yeon poked the tiny, ant-poop-like green onion flakes floating in the broth.
Is this... green onion?
It looked like it, but shriveled like food waste. Her pupils shook violently. The aroma was tantalizing, saliva pooling in proof.
Smell passes. No, exceeds. Can't taste bad. But the ingredients...
She glanced at me. Was this really the clerk's best? My face showed no change—more like, *why aren't you eating?*
"Customer? Why not eat...? Problem?"
That face screamed *it has to be good*. Pure confidence. But in her life, stale ingredients always meant bad food. Revulsion battled hunger in a bizarre standoff.
Fine. One bite. Resolute, she gripped her chopsticks again, delicately lifting the chewy noodles. Brought them slowly to her mouth. Closed her eyes, chewed thoughtfully.
This taste...!!!
How could it be? She froze mid-chew, forgetting to swallow.
Delicious!
No—perfect harmony! Nutty sesame shone through. The flour noodles tasted sweetly sugary. Chewy as a guzheng string, they meshed flawlessly with the spicy-salty broth—no margin for error.
Unbelievable. She slurped more. Same perfection. Oil's richness cut by spice, spice tempered by sweetness, sweetness by salt, salt by richness... Total unity!
The rumors were true. This was universal harmony. Even with stale ingredients, green onion flavor emerged. How? Reluctant to swallow, she savored it awhile before gulping. Warm fullness spread. Undeniably the best she'd ever tasted.
No dish had ever satisfied her—until this ramen, mocking her life's futility with perfection. Now she understood the clerk's baffling confidence.
"What's this dish called?"
"Ramen."
"Oho! Namen! The coiled spiral noodles fit the name perfectly."
Chopsticks dove in again. Saliva flooded from the first taste. As she scooped a huge mouthful from the steaming bowl—crack—her wooden chopsticks snapped in two.
Huh?
I jumped, staring at the spilled ramen on the floor. What happened? Yoo Hwa-yeon hung her head silently. Her chopsticks were cleanly severed. Turning slowly right... [Poisoned Dagger]
"Gahhh!!"
Bubbles frothed from the dagger embedded in the ground! If that had hit me? I'd be dead right there. Sword users are no good. I let her in as our first customer, and minutes later—poison dagger?
Fuming, she slammed the broken chopsticks on the table and stood.
"Who are you? Show yourself!"
Her shout drew three shadowy figures from the dense bamboo. She hand on her sword hilt.
What, fighting? Not here, please!
"Die, Yoo Hwa-yeon."
"How do you know my name? Black Dao scum?"
"No questions!"
Three-on-one battle erupted. Ramen half-eaten, now this? Crash—smash—
Shit. My store's getting wrecked. Still in debt— this'll add more. Stop fighting! At least explain why first!
A black-masked man flew past me into the store. Crash—I didn't look. No point hurting more.
Whoosh—another tumbled in. Clatter—shelves toppling, goods spilling. Tears welled.
Thud! Whirl! Another zipped by. Boom! Zap-crackle!Boom? Couldn't ignore that. Our precious fluorescent lights—night pearls to them—shattered. Fridges, AC, fans—all gone. That black Dao toad wrecked the outlets.
Haha.
"Tch. Black Dao trash. Needed a dozen to catch me."
She brushed her hands casually, striding over fresh-faced like after a good dump.
"Owner, fresh chopsticks?"
Plops back in the chair. This bitch?
I stormed up, gripped the table hard.
"Get out."
"Pardon?"
"OUT! Not selling to bitches like you!"
Flipped the table. Ramen flew, splattering the floor.
"Noooo!! My namen!!!"
She stared blankly at the mess. I flipped her the bird.
No more sword users! Ever!!