Metamorphosis (10): Ingredients Know No Limits, Food Knows Class
Chinese obsession with fine dining and rare ingredients stems from a deep-seated belief that what and how you eat reveals your status. This tendency intensifies with social class. If you're more exalted than others, your meals must be too. Meals thus become a tool for flaunting oneself to others. That's why Chinese business deals invariably unfold over lavish banquets in restaurants. Serving upscale cuisine to important guests isn't just hospitality—it's about upholding one's own face. The guest, in turn, shows manners by leaving a little of each dish untouched, signaling the host's preparations were more than adequate.
So when I asked Gao Xusen to recommend a restaurant, it was a blatant scratch at the communist noble's pride. Even in his haste, making a guest wait hungry and forcing him to hint at it indirectly? It must have felt like an insult to his face. He immediately called to clear out an entire waterfront restaurant, preparing an extravagantly excessive array of dishes for our small group. He couldn't join us himself but hoped we'd enjoy a satisfying meal.
Before entering, we conducted a thorough security sweep. Not that I distrusted Gao Xusen per se—if it was a place he frequented, other executives might have tampered with it. Even a Black Sea Party bomb or ambush targeting a Public Security official couldn't be ruled out.
Having dealt with plenty of Chinese in the human-hunting trade, Kyung-tae voiced a light concern. "Hyungnim, not doubting your way with people or anything, but didn't you kinda poke that Gao Xusen guy's ego a bit too hard?"
I brushed it off. "First impressions last. I'm not one of his underlings, am I?"
Sometimes you elevate yourself, and they follow suit. "Still, those high-up Party folks tend to be petty as hell."
"Just tell him it was the finest banquet after we eat our fill. Quit worrying and dig in. This contrast of crisp outside and soft inside is perfection."
The current dish was roast suckling pig, whole. Each person got one, its ruddy-crisp skin gleaming on golden platters. The server expertly carved it with professional knife work, each slice accompanied by the crisp sring-sring of the taut skin. Sticking a red fruit in the eye of the intact head for "decoration" was in poor taste, but no denying it was a rare delicacy. Public servants everywhere know the best spots.
Yet even the finest fare was impossible to finish. The portions were absurd for one meal, especially after emperor crabs—at five kilos apiece—had already paraded across the table. It was a course designed to be left half-eaten.
Kyung-tae, savoring only the tenderest belly meat before regretfully setting down his utensils, suddenly piped up as if remembering something. "Oh yeah, hyungnim."
"What?"
"I can control fire now."
This meant he'd awakened to a new primitive magic beyond physical enhancement. The ones whose circuits I'd opened had learned basic mana operation, but no successes yet. His sudden declaration caught me off guard—I'd been waiting patiently.
The table fell silent. I set down my utensils and eyed my eager hound of a subordinate. "…When?"
"Not long. An hour or two ago? Was just circulating mana casually, and poof—a cigarette-lighter-sized flame popped out. Freaked me out, so I stopped."
Two hours ago, while I waited for Gao Xusen, the security team had been in a separate lounge. He'd undergone his metamorphosis as an ability user right inside the Public Security Bureau.
I frowned slightly. "A bit careless."
"Sorry. Didn't expect it to just burst out like that when it wouldn't before."
He scratched his head with a sheepish grin. "No one saw, though. Cameras included. Flame was tiny too."
"Think it's combat-ready?"
"Eh, maybe in close quarters? But still tricky. Weak firepower, hard to detach from the body, and gotta learn new tricks… Anyway, wanna see?"
The room was already cleared, but I double-checked every corner before nodding slowly. "Show me."
Kyung-tae snapped his fingers, igniting a flame. "Why snap?"
"Style, hyungnim. Gotta look cool if it's small."
"…"
Style aside, the flame was real. Low heat and size, but the mana flowing through his circuit matched the blueprint I'd designed perfectly—no blockages, no waste. Great potential ahead.
"Congratulations. You nailed it."
"Thanks, hyungnim! Man, wish we could toast with some strong stuff right now… Too bad we're on duty."
"Drink."
"Huh?"
"One drink won't faze your tolerance. Go on."
I summoned the waiter without waiting. Asking for the house's best, we got Moutai—the rarest, not pricey but fakes everywhere. Top-shelf Cai Fu Moutai.
"Whoa…"
Kyung-tae's grin stretched ear to ear. "Gotta taste this first, hyungnim. Can't serve you a fake."
"I'm good. Just drink."
Even with enhancement incantations boosting metabolism, 50-proof baijiu wasn't my favorite. Fine as a sleep aid on restless nights, maybe.
I uncorked it and filled his glass. He cradled it reverently, sniffed with half-closed eyes, then downed it in one gulp.
"Kaaaaah! That's the stuff!"
"Real?"
"Yessir! Prime real deal. Gotta snag the rest on the way out."
Smacking his lips contentedly, he was clearly thrilled. If he said real, it was—or a fake indistinguishable from the genuine article.
Gazing at the bottle, I changed my mind and decided to pour for everyone. By now, Seo Gapsu's family would have heard of his death.
"One round for all. Not a celebration—for Seo Gapsu's devotion and sacrifice."
Miju, who'd barely touched her food, startled. I beckoned her with my free hand. "You first."
"Ah, yes."
Baijiu filled her held glass. Instead of lining up the rest, I circled the table, filling waiting glasses. We'd brought a small team from the ship, so half the bottle remained after.
I filled my own last, hands clasped behind my back. "We've been lucky so far."
True. No deaths in Mexico was a miracle. Even under my command, bad luck could've cost us a few.
"But hoping that luck lasts forever is cowardice, escapism. Gapsu's death… call it an accidental work injury. But it drives home a stark truth for me and all of you: No rank guarantees safety anymore."
Even vice-director level dying on duty was rare in my illicit empire. Pre-magic, security and smuggling lost only a handful yearly.
"I am deeply grateful for Gapsu's devotion." Not empty words. He'd earned respect by repaying his debt. In a world of disloyal beasts.
"And the same to each of you keeping your promises to me. Those person-to-person pledges are my most precious assets—the foundation of our organization."
Even if material bases crumbled, people remained, we could rebuild. People first, always. Why I'd shot down Suyeon's risky proposal without hesitation.
"Thus, I'll never expend you as worthless, anytime, anywhere. Even if I shelter behind you as a wall, I won't hide safe. If a promise's final fulfillment proves unavoidable, I'll etch that loss into my bones."
Final fulfillment: repaying life debt with life. More annoyance than pain for me, but no lie. My frontline risks managed loyalty too.
"Listen."
Glasses rose to eye level, following mine. "To Gapsu. And to me and all of you."
Hot chill slid down my throat. Stomach full, it wouldn't dull my edge. Tonight: two days' approvals. And a message to Diamond Casino.
The mood didn't sour despite toasting the dead. We always worked expecting the unexpected—no need for wails to mourn.
I capped the bottle and told Kyung-tae, "The rest goes to Miju."
"Aw, really?"
I slid it over; she caught it flustered, hesitated, then set it before her with a sigh. Perfect for solo drinking and a night's blackout. Meaning I'd greenlight her half-day late start tomorrow.
Back aboard the passenger ship, Suyeon had refurbishments over halfway done. Ready as mobile base and ops HQ. Impressive: eight ICU beds prepped.
Yes—preventing mental and physical attrition matters. Especially for this long hunt ahead.