A Blade Reborn
I'd been hoping to wrap up the workshop cleanup today.
Under ordinary circumstances, I would have spent the afternoon finishing the rest of it. But a client had come, and that meant the tidying could wait. Jin-seong had gone home, and five hours was more than enough time to repair everything he'd left behind.
Five hours. Plenty.
"This is just a repair, after all."
If I put my mind to it, I could forge him a knife that sat in his hand even better than this one. But to him, these blades and tools were not mere objects. They were companions who had walked the same long road.
Come to think of it...
The tools I'd used on Mount Olympus drifted unbidden into my mind.
"I wonder if someone's putting them to good use."
I'd grown attached to those things over a hundred years. Looking back, I couldn't help feeling I'd said goodbye a little too coldly.
Well. That's neither here nor there.
Right now, these tools needed my full attention.
First, the most important piece: the knife. To a chef, a knife is an extension of the self. Some chefs used the same blade for decades on end.
His hand will respond differently now than it did before the accident.
Even after people believe they've fully recovered, the body still reacts unconsciously around a site of serious injury. The reason his old, trusted knife had stopped obeying him was almost certainly that the way he used his hand had changed. Objects, over time, reshape themselves to their users, and this knife had almost certainly done the same. Years of use had molded it perfectly to his original grip. Then the accident had rewritten the way his hand moved, and suddenly the blade no longer answered the way it once had.
"On top of that..."
It was worn in every way that mattered. It had been a fine knife, no question — but both the handle and the blade were badly aged. In truth, its life as an object was nearly spent.
But it's still alive. That's enough.
This was more than enough to bring it back.
"The blade first, then."
I called up the memory of how he'd used his right hand earlier.
"In that case..."
I began adjusting the blade in increments of micrometers, redistributing the angle and the balance to match his changed hand. A whisper of steel answered me, stroke after stroke. The knife accepted every adjustment without the slightest resistance, as if it, too, still wanted to keep working with its chef.
"Moments like this, I really do wonder if objects have lives of their own."
It took a little over thirty minutes to finish redistributing the blade's angle and balance.
"Whew... next up..."
The next task was reconstructing the handle. I began reshaping it to match the new way he used his hand. The steel rang bright and clean under the hammer.
His ring finger moved this way... so here...
The adjustments were vanishingly small, but it was precisely these details that turned a tool into a masterpiece tailored to a single person. A truly fine object never comes easily. That was a truth I'd learned over a hundred years of work on Mount Olympus.
Still, whoever originally forged this knife put real care into it. Makes it easier to work with.
The original smith had almost certainly built it with future repairs in mind. The hammer rang on, and another thirty minutes or so slipped past.
"That should about do it..."
I'd tended to the worn spots as well. At this point, it would sit perfectly in his hand.
I turned to the remaining cooking tools, one by one. They all suffered from the same underlying problem. Each had been tuned to the old motion of his hand, and the accident had rewritten that motion. Heavier blows landed as I worked through them, and I didn't even stop for the bathroom. After a little over three hours, every item he'd asked me to repair was done.
I glanced at the clock. It was only seven in the evening. He wasn't due back for another hour.
"The tools are perfect. Now..."
Even by my own standards, the repairs were flawless. Just one thing still nagged at me. If this knife was going to stay in peak condition, it needed something more.
"This is probably unnecessary..."
He hadn't asked for it, so I couldn't charge him. In other words, I'd be doing it for free. But having seen a knife this good, I couldn't help myself.
Might as well throw this in as a little extra.
I fetched a piece of lumber I'd bought recently, sitting off to the side.
All right. Let's see...
Did I do the right thing, coming here...?
Jin-seong hadn't come with any real expectations. He couldn't keep limping along with a knife that wouldn't cooperate. If this repair didn't work out, he would start looking for a replacement.
"Even so..."
These were the tools that had been with him since his hardest days, scraping by at the bottom of the culinary world. To him, they weren't just a knife and a set of cooking implements. They were comrades.
Hoo...
He drew a deep breath, then opened the door and stepped into the workshop. Inside, Cheol-woo sat at his ease, sipping coffee.
"Ah, you're here. I actually just finished a little while ago."
He really finished everything in five hours?
It was hard to believe — but more important than whether the work was done was whether it had been done the way he'd asked.
They look clean, at least...
The old knife and cooking tools gleamed as if they were brand new.
"Go ahead. Pick it up."
"All right, then..."
Jin-seong took the knife carefully in his hand.
"......"
A moment later, he turned to the side and gave the blade a few experimental sweeps through the air. Cheol-woo took a sip of coffee and asked, looking perfectly at ease.
"How does it feel?"
"I, uh... would you happen to have something I could cut?"
"Hmm... you mean an ingredient? Give me a second..."
There was a bunch of bananas in the fridge, stashed for when he got hungry. Cheol-woo pulled one out and handed it over.
"Sorry. Just a quick test."
Jin-seong laid a thin sheet of paper on the table, set the banana on top of it, and began to slice.
......
"Satisfied?"
Jin-seong answered with a look of something close to disbelief.
"Satisfied? Is 'satisfied' the word you think this deserves? This is the best it's ever been! How did you— this isn't just like before. You've made it fit my hand even better than it used to!"
It was perfect. Utterly, completely perfect. The sensation in his hand was the same as when this knife had been at its best — but the results went beyond even that. It was impossibly sharp, and impossibly precise. And it felt as though the handle and his hand had become a single thing.
"That's my job. Why don't you try the other tools as well?"
Jin-seong nodded and took the remaining tools in hand, one after another.
Perfect...!
The grip was so complete he could have sworn the tools had grown onto his palm. With tools like these, his efficiency in the kitchen would rise on its own.
I barely expected anything...
He'd come on a faint hope, never imagining the result would be this flawless. Jin-seong took both of Cheol-woo's hands and bowed his head.
"I—thank you so much! Thank you, Master!"
There it is again...
Director Hwang had done the same. The moment I made something for someone, they started calling me Master. It was a little much, but it wasn't a title that sounded bad.
"It's nothing. Ah — and I put this together as a little extra. Take a look."
"Pardon?"
A repair this perfect, and now a bonus on top of it? He could hardly believe it. Cheol-woo brought over an object from the table behind him.
"Th-this is..."
"A scabbard."
It was the sheath he'd made from lumber in the leftover time. It looked unremarkable, but he'd designed it with genuine scientific care for the preservation of the blade.
And of course, there's Soul in it, too.
A scabbard...?
It looked ordinary enough, but anything this craftsman made was bound to be different. Jin-seong's trust in Cheol-woo had already reached that point.
"If you store the knife in this, it should be a little easier to maintain."
"Ah... th-thank you."
Well. It'll do a bit more than that...
He probably wouldn't notice just yet. But under the influence of the Soul imbued in that scabbard, any knife stored inside it would be kept in perfect condition, as a matter of course.
And now it was time for the slightly awkward part.
"Ah, and as for the fee..."
The moment I named the price, Jin-seong asked me to wait a moment and hurried outside. About fifteen minutes later, he came back in, out of breath, and held out an envelope.
"Thank you, Master!"
Sheesh. This is way more than the amount I quoted...
Even at a glance, it looked like twice as much.
"This, uh... this looks like quite a bit more than what I asked for..."
Jin-seong shook his head.
"Not at all, Master! You even made me a scabbard. I won't be able to rest easy unless you take at least this much!"
From Jin-seong's perspective, this man was the benefactor who had pulled him out of his slump. This amount of money wasn't even close to a waste. Cheol-woo smiled, said all right, and tucked the envelope away.
Well. If he wants to pay more, no reason to refuse.
"In that case, if you ever need something else, I'll make it for free. Consider this a down payment."
"Understood, Master. Ah — more importantly, Master. If it's all right... would you happen to be free tomorrow evening?"
"Tomorrow evening? Well... classes wrap up at five, so anytime after that is fine."
The word "classes" made Jin-seong start.
"C-classes...? Don't tell me you're a university student?"
"Yes. I turned twenty-three this year."
"......"
A look of sheer disbelief settled over his face.
"That's... truly remarkable. At that age, how did you..."
"Well, everyone has their circumstances. So, about tomorrow evening — was there something else you wanted to commission?"
Given how much extra he'd been paid, he could have forged a whole new knife without charging. But that wasn't the kind of request this was. Jin-seong shook his head.
"No, nothing like that. I'd like to treat you to a meal — with this knife. You're welcome to bring your family, or a partner, if you have one!"
Oh...?
From what I'd heard earlier, this man was the owner and head chef of a Michelin two-star restaurant.
I could bring Mom and Jeong-hwan along, couldn't I...?
"I appreciate it, but don't places like that usually need reservations months in advance?"
"You erased the greatest worry I had. I want to repay you with the one thing I do best."
Cheol-woo smiled.
"Then I won't refuse. Would it be all right if I brought my mother and my younger brother?"
Jin-seong nodded, looking entirely confident.
"Of course. Come to Cheonghak in Cheongdam-dong by seven tomorrow evening. Just give them your name, and they'll show you in."
A Michelin restaurant, huh. Now that's something to look forward to...
An unexpected reward. Tomorrow suddenly felt a long way off — and well worth the wait.