A New Chief Chef Arrives
The Outer Dining Hall, Yoon Gomyung's new workplace, had been buzzing for days with the latest rumor.
The previous Chief Chef of the Outer Dining Hall had packed up and returned to his hometown the moment the last semester ended. Since then, a medical instructor from the Northern Pavilion—who at least knew a thing or two about cooking—had been pulling double duty as the temporary Chief Chef, but that arrangement had quickly reached its limits.
"Chef Han was such a wonderful man," sighed Mrs. Geum, one of the kitchen staff, as she thoroughly wiped down a cutting board. "He was always so kind to cooks like us, and whenever some troublemaker tried to start something, he'd put them in their place immediately."
"Well, what can you do? He's already gone," replied Mrs. Na, shaking her head with a sigh. "His son and heir was gravely injured. As a father, he had no choice but to leave."
The predecessor, Hannibal, was an elderly chef nearing the end of his years. He possessed an incredibly sharp memory and treated the kitchen staff with utmost respect, making him highly popular among them.
As the two women conversed, Mrs. Park approached from across the kitchen with a bright, beaming smile.
"But look on the bright side! The new Chief Chef is arriving today."
"Right, right! You know that incredibly strict Head of the Western Hall? Apparently, he's the one who recruited him."
"The Western Hall Master? My goodness, what kind of person could possibly win the approval of someone that fastidious?"
"I heard this from Hyomi's mother, but apparently, his culinary skills are out of this world. Not only the Western Hall Master, but the Northern Hall Master and even that Daoist priest with the long beard—what was his name?—they all sang his praises."
Having gathered in one spot, the three women abandoned all pretense of working and settled in for a proper gossip session.
"Oh my, oh my. If he's that highly regarded, he must be some elderly master chef in his fifties or sixties, right?"
"Goodness, I just hope they didn't bring in some frail, sickly old man. Chef Han was wonderful, but like most chefs who come here, his cooking was excellent while his physical strength was... well, a bit lacking compared to ours. It's always a bit of a worry, isn't it?"
"Exactly. We need someone sturdy and reliable."
"Well, the Chief Chef over at the Inner Dining Hall is a young fellow, isn't he?"
"You mean that Geum Ho boy at the Inner Dining Hall? Ugh, don't even get me started on him. He's completely hopeless. He only looks decent because of his youth, but Hyomi's mother says his personality is absolute trash."
"Really? I thought he seemed decent since he has such a slick, handsome face."
"Oh, please. Apparently, there isn't a single maid in the academy he hasn't tried to lay his hands on. I heard there are at least five or six victims already!"
"Ugh, what a disgusting creep!"
While the three ladies were busy gossiping about the Inner Dining Hall's Chief Chef, Geum Ho, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed nearby. Mrs. Geum, the first to notice, poked her head out to peek toward the doorway.
There, she saw a face she had never encountered around these parts—a young man with a strikingly charming and handsome countenance, who was simultaneously poking his head in to look at them.
"Oh, my goodness!" Mrs. Geum shrieked in surprise. Startled by her sudden cry, the other two women whipped their heads around to stare at the doorway.
"W-who are you?"
"I've never seen him before."
"Mealtime ended ages ago, so..."
As the three women spoke over one another, the young man offered an embarrassed smile and spoke up.
"I didn't come here to eat. My name is Yoon Gomyung, and I'm the new Chief Chef of the Outer Dining Hall."
As Yoon Gomyung bowed politely with a gentle smile, the three women froze in unison.
"The... the Chief Chef?"
"This young lad?"
"Oh, my heavens!"
Instead of the elderly, middle-aged chef they had all envisioned, a vibrant, handsome young man in his twenties had appeared. Instantly, the look in the three women's eyes underwent a dramatic transformation.
The way they're looking at me is... a bit intense, isn't it?
"I intended to come straight here, but since it's my first time, I got a bit lost looking around the campus and arrived late. I look forward to working with you all and hope for your kind guidance." Even as I bowed deeply in greeting, the three ladies remained utterly silent. Wondering if I had somehow offended them already, I cautiously raised my head.
"Oh my, oh my, oh my! I had no idea such a handsome young man would be our new Chief Chef!"
"My goodness, you should have said something sooner! We almost called the guards thinking you were an intruder!"
"Come inside, quickly! Don't just stand out there in the cold!"
"Ah, yes, thank you."
They aren't just welcoming; they're practically charging at me like a drunk Zhang Fei. Whether in the Central Plains or back in Korea, middle-aged ladies really do have unmatched social skills.
Only neighborhood aunts could close the distance with a complete stranger so effortlessly. True to form, the moment they confirmed I was indeed the new Chief Chef, the three ladies dragged me on a whirlwind tour of the Outer Dining Hall, explaining every nook and cranny.
Seeing it with my own eyes while listening to their explanations made everything clear. The facilities here were incomparable to the Gaeun Inn—it was incredibly spacious and state-of-the-art.
However, I quickly realized that my duties at the Outer Dining Hall wouldn't be limited to cooking; there was a mountain of paperwork waiting for me. One look inside the Chief Chef's office revealed stacks of tightly rolled scrolls piled high.
"What are those...?"
"Oh, those are for our dear Chief Chef to handle! Hohoho!"
"..."
I have a very strong feeling I'll be fighting a life-or-death battle against paperwork late into the night every single day... Let's leave that for tomorrow. Today, I should focus on getting to know the kitchen staff.
"Are you preparing for another meal?" I asked, noticing the mountain of fresh ingredients piled up despite lunchtime having already passed. Mrs. Geum nodded.
"Yes. The Eastern Pavilion is hosting the Gyodu selection exam today, and the candidates apparently requested to have their lunch here after they finish."
"The Gyodu selection exam?"
"You know, those martial artists who work as assistant instructors for the academy's faculty."
"Ah."
So a Gyodu is basically the equivalent of a university teaching assistant. Originally, the position was designed to help students from smaller sects, minor families, or non-martial backgrounds who struggled to fund their martial arts and academic research. It allowed them to earn a decent monthly stipend while staying at the academy.
The pay was quite handsome, and holding the title of "Mutual Righteousness Academy Staff" guaranteed respect wherever one went. Naturally, the position became highly sought after. Because of the fierce competition, candidates were selected based on their graduation grades and a rigorous examination.
In other words, securing a Gyodu position at the Mutual Righteousness Academy was synonymous with being crowned a "top-tier talent." For highly competitive martial artists, it became a must-try challenge. This led to a bizarre phenomenon where elite disciples from the Nine Great Sects and One Gang, the Five Great Clans, and even the Demonic Cult scrambled to take the exam.
Furthermore, since being chosen by the academy served as excellent publicity for their respective sects, various organizations actively pressured their disciples to register for the exam whenever an opening appeared.
But since a Gyodu is technically part of the academic staff, shouldn't they be dining at the Inner Dining Hall?
"Why aren't they eating at the Inner Dining Hall?"
"Strictly speaking, they should be, but the Chief Chef of the Inner Dining Hall rejected them."
"How petty. It's just a meal; they could have easily served them."
"Exactly! He claimed that since they aren't official staff members yet, he has no obligation to feed them, so he flat-out refused."
"What a jerk," I muttered, clicking my tongue. The three ladies nodded in agreement. I didn't know who the Chief Chef of the Inner Dining Hall was, but he was clearly a piece of work. These candidates were the future educators of the academy; would it have killed him to prepare a meal for them?
"So the Outer Dining Hall is stepping in to feed them instead. Will they be dining here, then?"
"Most likely. I heard there are about ten of them..." Mrs. Park's words made me ponder. Ten people. It was a decent crowd, but not quite large-scale catering. I needed to prepare a meal for these prospective Gyodu who had likely just graduated and stepped into adulthood. I wondered what the three cooks had planned to make.
"What were you originally planning to prepare?"
"We were going to make Hoegwa-yuk."
"Hoegwa-yuk—twice-cooked pork. Not a bad choice. Originating from the Sichuan region, this dish featured boiled pork belly stir-fried with vegetables in a spicy, savory sauce dominated by Doubanjiang. It was essentially the Central Plains' equivalent of Korean spicy stir-fried pork. Just as no Korean man could resist a plate of Jeyuk-bokkeum, Hoegwa-yuk was a universally beloved dish in this world.
However, as delicious as traditional Hoegwa-yuk was, my modern Korean palate found it slightly lacking. If I cook it, I can make a truly legendary version. I carefully gauged their expressions before asking.
"Would it be alright if I prepared the Hoegwa-yuk myself, putting my own spin on it?"
Asserting dominance on my very first day by shouting, "Step aside, I'm taking over this dish!" would only earn me a reputation as an arrogant brat who looks down on his staff. If a newcomer ruined his image on day one, that stigma could last a lifetime. It was crucial to show proper respect and consult these ladies, who had likely worked as cooks for decades.
"Oh my, you want to cook on your very first day?"
"The fastest way to introduce myself is through my food, after all. And since it's a meal for the prospective Gyodu, I'd love to personally prepare it for them."
"My, our young Chief Chef really is different. You can just feel his passion, can't you?"
"Exactly. It's wonderful to see."
Fortunately, the three ladies seemed pleased by my enthusiasm. With their blessing, I stepped up to the hearth.
"While I handle the Hoegwa-yuk, let's work together to prepare some side dishes."
As experienced cooks of the Outer Dining Hall, they would easily be able to keep pace.
"Since we have some large, ripe tomatoes, let's make a tomato-egg stir-fry, a seasoned tofu skin salad, and a quick stir-fry with these fresh squash and melons."
I had no idea tomatoes existed in the Central Plains, but tomato-egg stir-fry was a dish I used to make back in Korea. Naturally, utilizing the tomato's natural umami and tanginess to create a fluffy egg stir-fry was a brilliant move. It was a double win—highly nutritious and incredibly delicious.
Next, a seasoned tofu skin salad was a must, offering a delightfully chewy texture and a nutty flavor with a hint of spice. For the squash and melon, I sliced them thinly, soaked them briefly in saltwater, squeezed out the excess moisture, and stir-fried them with minced garlic and julienned bell peppers. A pinch of salt and a drizzle of sesame oil completed the savory, fragrant side dish.
"By the way, are you three the only cooks in the Outer Dining Hall?" I asked while prepping the ingredients for the Hoegwa-yuk. The three ladies took turns answering.
"Oh, heavens, no! The kitchen hands assigned to the Outer Dining Hall handle all the menial chores."
"If the four of us had to run this entire place alone, we would have quit a long time ago."
"The kitchen hands do all the heavy lifting and prep work. We just focus on seasoning and cooking."
I figured as much. High school cafeterias, university dining halls, and military kitchens in modern times had plenty of machinery to assist with bulk cooking, but the Outer Dining Hall had no such luxuries. I had wondered how three ordinary women without inner qi could manage such a massive workload, and now I had my answer.
Now, it was time to prepare the main dish: Hoegwa-yuk. I channeled a thread of my inner qi into the wok, heating it to a scorching temperature. I added a dollop of lard—pork fat—and tossed in the onions, stir-frying them until they turned a beautiful golden brown. I don't know if it's just my imagination, but infusing the wok with inner qi seems to make the food taste better and absorb seasonings more thoroughly. Of course, I couldn't afford to waste my qi like this when cooking in massive quantities, but for a small batch of ten servings, it was well within my limits.
I scooped out the caramelized onions and set them aside. Adding another splash of lard to the blazing wok, I tossed in the star of the show. While traditional Hoegwa-yuk used pre-boiled pork, I opted for raw pork belly to take full advantage of the intense, high-heat stir-fry. I sliced the fatty pork belly into thick, bite-sized pieces perfect for pairing with a spoonful of rice, then threw them into the wok.
Next, I added thinly sliced scallions, ginger, minced garlic, and Sichuan peppercorns, tossing them vigorously. As the rendered pork fat melded with the aromatics and peppercorns, a spicy, fragrant aroma of mala began to rise from the pan.
Once the kitchen was filled with the rich scent of scallion oil and numbing peppercorns, I tossed the caramelized onions back in and splashed a bit of Shaoxing wine and soy sauce along the edges of the wok. Whoosh! The high-proof alcohol ignited instantly, sending a spectacular burst of flames dancing over the wok. A classic flambé.
As the alcohol evaporated, I scooped in a generous portion of spicy Sichuan Doubanjiang. "Ahhh." Now this is what I'm talking about. The moment the paste hit the pan, the dish transcended simple stir-fried pork and truly became Hoegwa-yuk. The sharp, spicy aroma of the Doubanjiang filled the air, stinging the eyes in the most satisfying way.
I added hoisin sauce and dark soy sauce to build a deep, savory umami profile, perfect the seasoning, and impart a rich, dark color. Finally, I tossed in shredded cabbage and green bell peppers, giving it one last quick stir-fry to complete the masterpiece.
"Chef Yoon, isn't this a bit too much food for just ten people?"
"Come now, what kind of chef would I be if I didn't make enough for us to have a taste too?" I replied, deftly portioning the food onto plates. The ladies burst into giggles. Yep, no auntie in the world can resist a delicious meal.
After setting aside a portion for the four of us, we began carrying the plates to the dining tables. Just then, the ten martial artists who had finished their Gyodu selection exam arrived at the Outer Dining Hall for their late lunch.
"Which department instructor wrote that third question?"
"I heard it was an instructor from the Northern Pavilion."
"Ah, that instructor from the Kongtong Sect? Didn't he make it ridiculously difficult?"
"Why? Are you going to go complain to him?"
"Of course! At the very least, he should have made it solvable."
The young men and women grumbled about the exam as they filed into the hall. They were a striking group; many were exceptionally handsome and beautiful, clearly destined to lead the next generation of the martial world.
Watching these vibrant youths in the prime of their lives, I found a warm, fatherly smile spreading across my face... Wait, hold on. I'm in my twenties too, just like them. Why am I smiling like a proud dad? You're not an old man yet, Yoon Gomyung. Pull yourself together.
As they walked into the dining hall, one person stood out from the crowd. While everyone else wore muted, monochromatic martial robes, she wore a striking, vibrant crimson robe that immediately drew the eye.
She had flawless, porcelain-white skin and an ethereal, innocent beauty. Though her face remained entirely expressionless, her aloofness only added to her cold, captivating charm as she walked in with slow, deliberate steps.
I found myself staring blankly at her, thinking that the title of "The Central Plains' Greatest Beauty" wouldn't be an exaggeration in the slightest.
"..."
"...?"
Our eyes met. But before she could open her mouth to say anything, the man leading the group glanced at the food laid out on the table. His face instantly twisted into a scowl, and he spoke in a voice dripping with dissatisfaction.
"Seriously? We just finished a grueling exam, and this is all they prepared? Why are there so few dishes?"
Excuse me, you little punk?