Left Behind, Frost Remains
Kucheon Ice Blood had fallen.
According to the message sent from the Orthodox Headquarters Office, once the core at the heart of the Ice Blood was destroyed, the dungeon itself had erupted into a great whirlpool and vanished.
But where the Ice Blood had disappeared, something strange remained. As if exhaling its final breath, it kept spitting fragments in every direction—chunks of ice that would never melt, spawning again and again.
Even when held close to fire, they only slowly shrank; cut them, break them, and they would regain their original shape, as if they were devouring every trace of warmth around them. Those ice chunks carried a bizarre, chilling force.
The person who carried that ice and opened the doors of Mugung Hyeoptak once more was Cheongryu Sect’s leader, Yu Cheong-ran, who had lost Lee Do-cheong only days before.
Thunk.
The door swung open, and Yu Cheong-ran stepped inside. In her arms she carried something wrapped in several layers of thick cloth, and behind her, Han Cheong-hyeok followed like a shadow.
“Head Chef, are you here?”
From deep in the kitchen, the Elder Head Chef—who had been scrubbing a massive iron cauldron—slowly lifted his head.
His gaze did not linger on Yu Cheong-ran’s face, but on the bundle cradled in her arms. It must have been a veteran’s instinct; he could tell at once that the energy leaking from it was no ordinary thing.
“I brought this... because I thought it was something Do-cheong left behind.”
As Yu Cheong-ran unwrapped the bundle, a bitter cold drifted through the room and spread out in a thin veil.
It was an ice lump so clear it had turned almost blue with light. About the size of a peach, it breathed out its own frost as it settled onto the table.
I started to step closer, then hesitated. Even before I touched it, my fingertips ached. It felt deep, quiet, and heavy, as though someone’s noble will had frozen solid inside it.
“When the Ice Blood collapsed, this was what was thrown out instead of my brother’s remains.”
Han Cheong-hyeok added quietly, “When my brother wrapped us up, the cold wind of death was the first thing to strike his back. I think that force collided with his warmth and turned into this crystal.”
The Elder Head Chef silently stared at the ice lump, then reached out without a word and touched it.
Hiss.
A plume of white steam rose from his palm. He was using his inner energy to probe the ice’s nature.
“It’s that brat Lee Do-cheong’s qi.”
The Elder Head Chef went on, “That stubborn temperament of his—the one that surged like a wave and blocked like a mountain—is embedded inside it. Yeonhwa, stop standing there with a dazed look on your face. This ice isn’t something we’re going to boil away. We’re going to use it as it is, and begin cooking with the cold he left behind.”
I blinked, stunned, and looked at him.
“You want to use the ice as is? Master, this could be poisonous frost from the Ice Blood.”
“Not poison. Spirit.”
The Elder Head Chef’s voice was firm. Then he took over the kitchen.
The first thing he ordered was a large glass bowl. He fixed the ice lump in place atop the transparent bowl and arranged thin slices of salmon all around it. It was Salmon Carpaccio.
“Yeonhwa, bring me olive oil and lemon.”
Following my master’s instructions, I brought him the olive oil and lemon.
He lifted his knife and shaved the salmon flesh into paper-thin slices. When he drizzled on the lemon juice, the frost pouring from the ice instantly froze the surface of the salmon, locking in a satisfyingly firm texture.
I took the dish and set it before the two members of the Cheongryu Sect.
“Please try it.”
Yu Cheong-ran carefully picked up a piece of salmon.
“It’s cold... but strange. It’s so cold my tongue feels numb, and yet the moment it goes down, it becomes unbelievably soft.”
“It was like this when my brother first pulled us into his arms, too,” Han Cheong-hyeok said, tasting it himself with a low laugh. “He wore armor that was as cold as ice on the outside, but inside that embrace was the warmest place in the world. This ice... it really might be him.”
The Elder Head Chef moved on to the next dish.
This time it was Carbonara Pasta. After finishing the noodles in a pan until steam still clung to them, he placed the bowl beside the ice lump before serving so the heat would be stripped away unnaturally fast.
“When hot energy meets cold qi, the sauce doesn’t harden—it gains body. Do-cheong’s cold wasn’t the kind that freezes and kills. It was the kind that gathers scattered warmth and binds it together.”
As he explained, the carbonara—now stripped of its steam—stood somewhere between hot and cold pasta.
When you put it in your mouth, you could still feel the warmth of the sauce, but the finish would fall clean and crisp like ice.
Yu Cheong-ran, after tasting it, could not speak for a long time.
“It isn’t hot... but it feels like my heart is being warmed.”
The Ice Blood had stolen warmth and life. But Lee Do-cheong had protected them with his broad back. Perhaps that was what had remained in the ice.
At her words, the Elder Head Chef gave a silent nod.
Just then, the jade plaque in the kitchen began to ring noisily.
Tirirring~
Order received: Orthodox Headquarters Office, Northern Branch - 30 servings of chilled ice noodles, large batch cold pork trotters salad. Note: For exhausted administrators after the Ice Blood cleanup. Deliver without letting the ice melt!
“Yeonhwa! Delivery. Looks like those fools at Headquarters Office have noticed this astonishing cold too.”
As he spoke, the Elder Head Chef pointed to the ice from Lee Do-cheong sitting at one side of the kitchen.
“Put part of that ice in the middle of the delivery box. With that energy, the noodles won’t go soggy and the ice won’t melt before it reaches the destination. Don’t waste even a speck of it. This is the spirit of a great hero.”
I hurriedly split off pieces of Lee Do-cheong’s ice and packed them into the delivery container—no, the cooler this time—along with the food.
The moment Baedal-ui Hojok’s courier opened the door and stepped inside, he froze in place, dazed by the cold yet strangely comforting energy filling the tavern.
“W-what is this energy? Did you go and obtain some thousand-year ice crystal?”
“Enough talking. Go. Delivery lives and dies by speed. While this ice’s warmth is in contact with the food, the broth won’t change.”
At the Elder Head Chef’s words, the courier bowed and vanished like lightning on his sguta.
The Elder Head Chef began preparing the final dessert.
Vanilla ice cream.
In this murim world, with no machines and no magic, the only way to make ice cream was through sheer labor—unless you used a complete circulation art to whip it, the only method was to keep stirring milk and sugar over ice until they set.
The Elder Head Chef personally poured the milk mixture onto a wide tray and slowly stirred it atop the ice. With his inner energy keeping his hand steady at a constant pace, he looked like a cultivator in meditation, polishing his own dao.
“Your brother wasn’t fond of sweets,” Han Cheong-hyeok muttered.
To that, Yu Cheong-ran answered softly, “And yet... once, down in a village below the mountain, he laughed like a child while eating honey pastries.”
The Elder Head Chef drizzled honey over the softly set white mound of ice cream and set it before them.
Yu Cheong-ran scooped up a spoonful and closed her eyes. A moment later, a clear tear rolled down her cheek and fell onto the table.
“It’s strange... It’s cold, and yet it’s so warm.”
“It feels like my brother is standing right beside us.” Han Cheong-hyeok’s shoulders trembled.
The Elder Head Chef did not comfort them with words. Instead, he picked up a cloth and wiped the table clean. That was how he dealt with grief.
When Yu Cheong-ran finished eating and reached to wrap the ice again, she paused and said, “I’ll leave it here.”
“Didn’t you say it was his qi?”
“As you said, Head Chef, this seems like the place where it can be used most meaningfully. I want to leave Do-cheong here, in Mugung Hyeoptak, where it can warm the frozen hearts of people.”
“So be it. Lee Do-cheong will now become one pillar of this kitchen. Not as a cold that freezes, but as spirit that melts and embraces another’s heart, he will remain here forever.”
The ice settled into a corner of the kitchen.
From that day on, the kitchen of Mugung Hyeoptak came to hold a strange balance of yin and yang. On one side, the fire-infused flames of the cooking arts blazed hot; beside them, the chill leaking from the endless ice lingered like frost.
The guests sometimes asked,
“Head Chef, where in the world did that ice come from? It doesn’t melt even beside the fire, and it shines so cleanly. It must be some kind of divine relic.”
And each time, the Elder Head Chef would chuckle and answer, “It’s the heart left behind by a wandering hero. The coldest ice in the world, yet also the warmest.”
The Ice Blood had vanished. But the warmth that once held someone inside it had now found new life in the kitchen of Mugung Hyeoptak.
Heat and cold, life and death, those who remained and those who had gone first—here, in Mugung Hyeoptak, all of it quietly coexisted.
From behind his master’s back, I lightly touched the ice.
It was cold. And yet, strangely, it was warm.
The Great Hero of Cheongdo, Lee Do-cheong, had not disappeared.
He remained here—not as the ice of the Ice Blood that had killed people, but as a coldness carrying warmth, one that made people remember and live again.
Just as he had once protected warmth, now he warmed people’s hearts with cold.