The Warmth Left Behind
On a strangely windless day, not a single customer came in until noon. There were almost no people out on the streets either.
Yeonhwa stood in front of the kitchen stove, staring blankly at an empty pot.
I am an empty pot. Nothing is inside me. Therefore, I contain no thoughts either. I have no thoughts. If someone hit me, I’d probably go clang-clang...
“Yeonhwa, don’t just stand there daydreaming. Customers are like fortuitous encounters; they’re not something you wait for, but something that comes to find you.”
Jangro Suksu’s voice came from behind her.
Clunk.
The door opened, and a sharp cold wind rolled in like frost—huh. That felt oddly familiar.
What stepped inside was not one person, but the swordsmen of the Cheongryu Sect, returning from the Nine-Heaven Ice Blood.
The frigid aura they carried with them made the whole room seem to chill at once.
Only two had come in, though. So there were only two of them? Was one of them sent to see a physician, maybe? But the atmosphere...
Yu Cheong-ran, the Plum Blossom Sword Queen, and Hancheonghyeok, the Clouded Breeze Swordsman, stood alone.
Their blue robes, the symbol of their sect, were frozen stiff and torn to shreds in places, and the skin visible through the gaps had gone a ghastly blue, as though frostbitten to the bone.
On their shoulders lay a silence deeper and heavier than even the chill of the Ice Blood. Hancheonghyeok’s eyes were swollen red and raw, while Yu Cheong-ran’s gaze wavered as precariously as a cracked sheet of ice.
There was no sign anywhere of Lee Do-cheong, the steadfast wave and mountain of the Cheongryu Sect.
“Suksu...”
Yu Cheong-ran finally spoke, lowering herself into a seat.
“Do-cheong... stayed behind.”
Jangro Suksu set down the teacup and teapot he had been holding, then slowly turned to face them.
In the past, he would have barked, “Order first!” But now his eyes simply watched their grief in silence. His gaze was deep and still, as if he understood everything already.
“The Death-Cold Wind came rolling in,” Hancheonghyeok said.
“It wasn’t just wind. It was a monster that sucked out warmth.
We succeeded in destroying the Ice Blood core, just as the righteous and demonic alliance headquarters said we should, but as the cave collapsed, the vicious cold sealed inside the shattered core spread one last time and swallowed us whole.
My brother... he was the biggest among us. He held us all in his arms and took the full force of that wind on the outside.”
Lee Do-cheong. Like the name that meant to cultivate the Way and flow pure and clear, he had become, in his final moment, a great wall that embraced his companions as though that were simply his nature.
The Death-Cold Wind did not steal the warmth of the body, but the warmth at the root of one’s existence. Each time it blew, they said, it froze not the flesh but the very self. When that wind finally ceased, Lee Do-cheong was left standing like a mountain, frozen in place.
“It was over. The Blood Gate vanished. But hyung... couldn’t collapse. He stood there the whole time, until we made it out of that darkness, clearing a path with his own body. He protected us even in death.”
The Cheongryu Sect had only three members. That was because the three of them had formed the sect as sworn brothers. And that was precisely why the empty space left by this one death would feel even larger.
Moved to tears, Yeonhwa wiped at the corner of her eye, and Jangro Suksu rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Yeonhwa, don’t be sad. Grief belongs to the guests. If the kitchen staff sinks into sorrow, the blade grows dull and the seasoning goes wrong.”
Before long, Jangro Suksu had lit the fire beneath a great iron cauldron.
“Today we’re making Pot-au-Feu. Put in the bones and let them simmer long and slow. We need a vessel that can take the warmth Lee Do-cheong gave his life to protect and carry it forward, so those people can go on living with it.”
Yeonhwa rolled up her sleeves in a hurry. She soaked beef shank and large bones in water to draw out the blood, then poured them into the pot. She roasted whole onions, added the white part of green onions, garlic, carrots, cloves, and bay leaves.
Even as she worked, she kept sneaking glances at the two warriors of the Cheongryu Sect. They were cold. It felt as though the very space around them had frozen with them.
Bubble, bubble.
The sound of the water boiling drowned out Yeonhwa’s thoughts. White steam rose as the pot came to a boil. Following her master’s teachings, she skimmed away the scum, one spoonful at a time.
“Yeonhwa, when you skim the foam, take the sympathy in your heart with it. A kitchen master does not pity; he is the one who relights the spark of life. The broth must be clear, but within it the flavor of bone-deep truth must seep out. Just as wounds cannot be sealed in haste, the fire must keep burning gently until the meat fibers release on their own.”
By then, the tea Jangro Suksu had poured for Yu Cheong-ran and Hancheonghyeok had already gone cold, steeped through with the chill of the Ice Blood.
He went out himself, took back their cups, and set down a steaming bowl of Pot-au-Feu in front of them.
“Eat. This is the life your Lee Do-cheong gave his back to protect. Don’t let that life go cold. To eat while still alive is the least courtesy one can pay to the one who has gone ahead, is it not?”
At those words, Yu Cheong-ran’s shoulders trembled ever so slightly. With shaking hands, she lifted her spoon.
The moment the clear broth touched her lips, a tear slipped from her eye and fell into the soup.
“Do-cheong... was warm until the very end.”
Hancheonghyeok took a bite of the meat as well. The tender, heated flesh slid softly down his throat, which had stiffened from the Ice Blood’s chill.
“Inside there... he was really warm until the end. Even as he was freezing, he kept asking if we were cold.”
They said nothing more, only chewed in silence, as though performing a brutal rite of survival—turning the warmth Lee Do-cheong left behind into their own flesh and blood.
Inside the kitchen, the assistant cooks and Yeonhwa were preparing the next dish. Watching each movement, Jangro Suksu said, “Sorrow is bitter, but the reason to live must be sweet. Yeonhwa, when those people walk out that door, you need to leave them with the feeling that they can still go on living. Prepare tiramisu.”
Jangro Suksu closed his eyes and murmured, “If we can drag them up from the abyss of sorrow, that is the true way of the kitchen—the true path of life.”
In the kitchen, they finished the dessert with care and set it before them. Yu Cheong-ran lifted a spoonful.
The softness of the cream melting on her tongue and the bittersweet scent of coffee thawed the breath that had frozen in her chest.
“Jangro Suksu, Yeonhwa... everyone... thank you.”
Yu Cheong-ran raised her head and looked at Yeonhwa. There was no longer a single cracked shard of ice in those eyes, only the tranquil light of the Cheongryu, flowing clear.
Not a cold wall of ice, but the taste of the blue courtyard where the Cheongryu Sect had laughed together with Lee Do-cheong.
As the Cheongryu Sect’s meal drew to a close, the jade plaque in the kitchen rang.
⊳ Order: 50 cups of warm milk, cookie set. Note: Payment covered by the righteous and demonic alliance headquarters. For support to the post-operation reconnaissance team. As fast as possible!
“Yeonhwa! A delivery! Now that the Ice Blood has been cleared and the cold has eased, even those headquarters bastards seem to be coming to their senses at last. Helping people stand up against the cold is part of a kitchen master’s duty too.”
At Jangro Suksu’s command, Yeonhwa hurried to warm the milk and box up the cookies, thinking as she worked.
The Blood Gate had been shattered, and so the Nine-Heaven Ice Blood had vanished as well, but the empty space left behind by one martial artist, one bond, one person named Lee Do-cheong, was just as vast.
Someone else would someday walk into some other disaster, and someone else would never again be able to open the doors of Mugung Hyeoptak...
That might be the law of this murim world, but at least for those who passed through Mugung Hyeoptak, she wanted to help them slip past that law by even a little.
Yu Cheong-ran and Hancheonghyeok rose from their seats. They placed their silver coins on the table and bowed deeply to Jangro Suksu.
“We ate well. Jangro Suksu. I think I understand now why Do-cheong missed this place’s food so much.”
“Come again. Any time. Then I’ll have something even hotter, even sweeter, waiting for you.”
Jangro Suksu watched their backs in silence. When the door closed, the restaurant fell quiet again.
But it was no longer the cold, heavy, silent stillness of before. It was a hush of warm rest, the lingering comfort of heat seeping out from the hearth into the air.
As Yeonhwa cleared away the dishes they had left behind, she thought, Mugung Hyeoptak isn’t just a place that sells food to make money. It’s a place to live, too. So long as I’ve chosen to live here, this place is the same as my tomorrow.
Someone would still take on another challenge, someone would disappear again, and someone would be left behind like this. But the one who faced those left-behind souls was her.
Those left behind would feel it here once more.
The fact that they were still breathing. Or rather, she would have to make them feel it that way.
“Yeonhwa, scrub the pots again. The night is still long. When the reconnaissance team gets back, they’ll probably bang on the door like they’re about to smash the restaurant down because they’re hungry again.”
At Jangro Suksu’s words, Yeonhwa answered brightly, “Yes, Master! I’ll have everything ready at light speed!”
The kitchen once again set the pots in place. The fire kept burning.
To protect the warmth someone had left behind, and to warm the cold souls of those who would come again.
And then, those who carried a cool warmth in their hearts returned.
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