Chapter 31
Chapter 31
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: A Splendid Initiation Ceremony
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It was a splendid initiation ceremony.
"Where's the cafeteria?"
Having finished cleaning the clubroom in the blink of an eye, Yang Woo-bin took off his mask and asked.
"Huh?"
"You said you wanted me to cook. Lead the way."
"Uh? Oh, uh, okay."
Even as he casually suggested heading to the cafeteria despite her demanding challenge to satisfy her tastes, Ryu Ji-ah was the one who ended up flustered.
'...What the hell? Why is this guy so damn relaxed?'
In this modern world where a guy who spat out "Men should just cook at home!" would get chewed out, a man who could cook well was incredibly rare.
And one who agreed without a hint of complaint to a sudden demand to whip up a meal? Even rarer.
To top it off, this guy had blonde hair and a tan—he looked like a total delinquent—yet he brimmed with confidence in his cooking.
'...Am I seriously going to end up satisfied if I just follow him like this?'
Ryu Ji-ah started seeing the Yang Woo-bin in front of her as something that utterly defied her understanding.
But Ryu Ji-ah was someone who had lived a life farthest from anxiety, a born powerhouse.
Despite having three older sisters each at least four years her senior, she had clinched total victory in the heir competition through sheer innate talent alone, claiming the successor seat of the Ryu family—ranked fifth among the world's great houses—with unwavering confidence.
'No, get it together, Ryu Ji-ah. This isn't a fight to begin with. It's just an initiation rite to knock down the arrogant new guy's ego. No reason to feel uneasy. No matter how delicious his cooking is, I can just stubbornly say I'm not satisfied.'
With that, Ryu Ji-ah shook her head vigorously to dispel the needless anxiety and reminded herself of her current position.
She was the judge here. Yang Woo-bin was the one being judged.
It was a perfect superior-subordinate dynamic with no room for argument, so Ryu Ji-ah regained her original confidence.
"Let's go! The cafeteria's just a short walk away! I'll buy the ingredients, so show me what you've got!"
"You're the one eating the meal I'm making, so of course you buy the ingredients. Stating the obvious like it's some big favor."
"Ugh..."
Even after regaining her confidence, Ryu Ji-ah still couldn't win against Yang Woo-bin in a battle of words.
"I'll make egg fried rice."
"Huh?"
After moving to the cafeteria near the clubroom, Ryu Ji-ah couldn't help but be taken aback by Yang Woo-bin's words as he tied on an apron, glanced at the menu, chose fried rice, and popped instant rice into the microwave.
Egg fried rice was her absolute favorite food.
'There's no way this guy knows I love fried rice... What the hell?'
The dish Yang Woo-bin was about to make had to satisfy her specifically.
Only if she admitted to being satisfied after eating it would Yang Woo-bin claim the potted flower that had been sitting there as the prize.
In this pivotal moment with a prize on the line, he chose the simplest possible fried rice.
Curious about why he picked fried rice out of all the delicious options, Ryu Ji-ah opened her mouth to ask.
"But why fried rice...? I said I'd buy any ingredients you want. Normally, you'd go for something fancier with premium stuff, right? Oh. Wait."
Mid-question to Yang Woo-bin, a sudden hypothesis flashed through Ryu Ji-ah's mind.
She trailed off, then smirked slyly and tossed him a different question.
"Hey, newbie... You can't make anything but fried rice, can you?"
Once she thought about it, everything clicked into place.
A blonde, tanned delinquent-looking guy who turned out to be great at cleaning and cooking? That was a setup so over-the-top, even manga readers would call it too much.
But if he was only good at fried rice? Totally different story.
Fried rice was easy to make, and it wouldn't look weird at all for a blonde thug type to know how to whip that up.
"Kuhuhuhu. That's it, right? I nailed it, didn't I?"
Ryu Ji-ah inwardly cheered at the sight of Yang Woo-bin staring back at her, speechless.
"Yeah, that makes sense! You can't be good at cooking too! Mmm!"
Closing her eyes and nodding, Ryu Ji-ah thought this was justice, the proper order of the world restored.
She could think of it as a counter since fried rice was her favorite and he only knew how to make that one dish—but no, that was wrong.
'Someone who can't cook properly always shows it somehow. There's no way I'd be satisfied with some amateur's sloppy fried rice!'
Because she loved fried rice so much, her standards for it were ridiculously strict. That was Ryu Ji-ah.
Of course, she'd eat it if he made it and it turned out tasty, but she was confident she could hold back from saying she was satisfied.
"Alright then, can our newbie—who can only make one kind of fried rice—actually satisfy me? Can he produce a fried rice that matches my picky palate...?"
"President, I need to use the fire now, so step out."
"Huh?"
Before she knew it, Yang Woo-bin's hands held a steaming bowl of High-value rice—each grain perfectly coated in yellow egg batter—and a plate of green onions sliced into impeccably uniform, pretty pieces.
She'd been watching the whole time, and the only moment she hadn't was when she closed her eyes and nodded. Had he prepped all that in those few seconds?
The anxiety she'd momentarily forgotten began to creep back up from the pit of Ryu Ji-ah's stomach.
And the moment she saw Yang Woo-bin pull out an iron wok, drizzle exactly two spoonfuls of oil with precision, sauté the green onions briefly, then dump in the egg-coated rice and start wokking it flawlessly—her anxiety became reality.
'Th-this bastard... He's freaking insanely good at cooking!'
Not a single wasteful motion in his technique. Even the seasonings he sprinkled were measured to perfection. As he wokked, infusing that perfect smoky flavor without burning a single grain, his delicate skill was like a work of art.
Was it okay to use this level of mastery for just fried rice? His fluid movements halted with timer-like precision the instant the rice achieved peak fluffiness.
Thud.
"Hah... hahk..."
The golden fried rice, gleaming brilliantly, was plated beautifully on a white bowl.
Objectively speaking, it was just a simple egg fried rice seasoned with rice, eggs, green onions, and a bit of salt—but Ryu Ji-ah felt crushed by its sheer presence.
"Here, spoon. Dig in."
Ryu Ji-ah took the spoon from Yang Woo-bin as if entranced, then scooped up a bite of fried rice.
Perfectly fried to fluffy perfection yet still moist, each grain sparkled like a jewel.
"I-itadakimasu..."
Her hand trembled as she brought the spoon to her lips. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth.
She had shut out her other senses to focus solely on taste.
She instinctively knew this fried rice deserved that level of attention. And so, she slipped the spoon into her mouth.
Nom.
Scraaape. Scraaape.
"..."
"Um, President. Why are you scraping the spoon against the empty bowl?"
"...Hah?! Wh-what? My fried rice? Where's my fried rice?!"
"Where else? It all went into your stomach."
"What... did you say?"
Ryu Ji-ah couldn't believe her ears at Yang Woo-bin's words.
Her last memory cut off right at the moment she closed her eyes to savor what was sure to be delicious fried rice.
But the satisfaction in her stomach and the lingering savory aftertaste of egg fried rice in her mouth confirmed it was true.
"H-how...?"
As someone who loved fried rice more than anything, Ryu Ji-ah knew Yang Woo-bin's version had obliterated her entire fried rice worldview.
Fried rice so good it made her black out? She'd never even heard of skill like that.
'Wh-why did I pick a fight with a monster like this...? Was I really just a frog in a well?'
Overwhelmed by Yang Woo-bin's cooking prowess—which far surpassed her comprehension—Ryu Ji-ah trembled, unable even to meet his eyes.
Defying someone who could make fried rice like this with just eggs, green onions, rice, and salt? She felt like she'd never taste this dream dish again if she did.
And just like that, with a single bowl of fried rice, the hierarchy between them in Ryu Ji-ah's mind was about to be set.
"So. Satisfied?"
"Huh?"
His question snapped her out of her thoughts.
"Of-of course..."
"What was that? Not satisfied? As expected of Dabcheon's strongest cadet. Guess there's no helping it."
"Uh, y-yeah?"
In response to Yang Woo-bin's question, Ryu Ji-ah had been about to grovel with something utterly pathetic like, 'Of course I'm satisfied. B-but, newbie... Could you make one more bowl? If you do, I might even hand over the president spot... Hehe.'
A full-on declaration of defeat.
But his follow-up cut her off, and the momentum fully shifted to him.
"This time, I'll give you a massage. I'm pretty confident in those."
"Eh? Wh-what? W-wait a sec, suddenly?"
Still enfeebled from the fried rice knockout, Ryu Ji-ah could only flail her hands weakly as Yang Woo-bin approached. No real resistance left in her.
Normally, she'd have haughtily declared as the elder, "A guy can't just touch any girl like that!" and asserted her dignity.
"N-nooo... Guys can't just touch any girl like thaaat... It's baaad..."
That feeble protest was the best she could muster now.
And without any interference, Yang Woo-bin's hands reached their target: Ryu Ji-ah's shoulders.
"Hngiii♥♥♥"
Ryu Ji-ah could only surrender to perfect satisfaction, down to the deepest depths of her core.
'If I learn about stuff like thiiiis... I can never go baaack...♥'
It was a splendid initiation ceremony.