TC 01

Chapter: 01

Trash Recipe

Splash. Even with her hands plunged into ice-cold water, the woman didn’t flinch an inch.

Just over two years had passed. Washing ingredients in cold water had become almost routine for her. Nothing about it seemed unusual.

The sharp clang of stainless steel against stainless steel, the sizzling sounds of things cooking.

Tuning those noises out with half an ear, Yoon So-rim scrubbed the dirt-caked potatoes clean.

“What about the raspberry sherbet?”

“I’m on it!”

“The sauce is boiling! Aren’t you paying attention?!”

“I’m sorry!”

In the massive kitchen, chaos reigned without pause.

So-rim worked alone in a corner, quietly preparing ingredients.

It had already been two years since she, as the youngest chef, had been assigned the small, tedious chores at Le Dosage.

“Yoon So-rim, take this out.”

Someone tapped her on the back and spoke.

So-rim nodded without checking who it was. Everyone working in the kitchen was senior to her anyway.

The trash bag handed to her was heavy.

But So-rim twisted her body and stepped out the back door without showing any sign of strain.

A light sigh escaped her, forming a misty breath in the cold air.

Is it winter already?

Wearing nothing but her chef’s uniform, the cold bit into her skin. Her shoulders shivered without her noticing.

Curling herself up as best she could, So-rim passed the staff parking lot and headed for the trash area.

The sun had shortened significantly, and the surroundings were dim.

But just as she walked quickly, she suddenly stopped.

“…….”

Someone was near the trash bins.

A red tip glowed on a cigarette dangling from their fingertips.

Her gaze naturally moved upward.

A tall man, wearing a bored expression, paused as he brought the cigarette to his lips.

He had noticed her watching.

“You can’t smoke here.”

So-rim said it mechanically.

The restaurant and its surroundings were, in fact, a no-smoking area. Employees who smoked usually went across the street to a designated smoking booth.

“…….”

But whether she said anything or not, the man stared at her with a face so cold it could cut glass.

His sharply tailored suit looked impeccable, yet the silhouette beneath was so well-formed it could be called beastly.

He looked at So-rim as if she were an unwelcome intruder.

After a moment, he spoke slowly.

“Is that so?”

Then, as if her words meant nothing, he inhaled deeply from the cigarette.

So-rim’s brows furrowed slightly as she watched him exhale smoke.

“I said you can’t smoke here.”

Her voice was firmer this time as she gripped the slippery edge of the trash bag tightly.

The man chuckled, as if amused.

“Okay.”

Only after he had finished the cigarette did he drop it to the ground and stomp it out with his polished shoe.

The arrogance mixed with grace in his movements suggested he wasn’t an ordinary customer.

Thinking it pointless to continue talking, So-rim looked away.

She tossed the trash into the bin and turned to leave.

The man seemed to still watch her from where he stood, but she paid him no mind and walked briskly.

Then, from behind, his voice called out, distant yet clear:

“Are you a chef here?”

Was he going to complain just because she’d annoyed him?

So-rim turned slightly.

The tall, unfamiliar man tilted his face slightly, studying her.

Why does he look so familiar…

There was something strangely familiar about him, though he wasn’t ordinary-looking.

So-rim whispered softly:

“No.”

“You’re wearing a chef’s uniform.”

He gestured toward her chef coat with his chin.

“I’m just the youngest.”

Not wanting to waste time explaining, So-rim replied briefly and turned back toward the kitchen.

She returned before the man could speak again.

“Why does taking out the trash take so long?”

Nam Tae-young, head chef of Le Dosage, frowned at her.

So-rim briskly returned to her station and answered:

“A customer spoke to me.”

Tae-young didn’t seem to care much about her answer. He held out a hand.

“Potatoes.”

So-rim placed the smoothly prepared potatoes in his hand.

Tae-young checked them briefly before passing them to another chef.

“Onions next.”

So-rim immediately started peeling onions.

As she peeled the third one with practiced hands,

“Junior!”

The door burst open, and a hall staff member appeared—calling the youngest chef, So-rim, by name, which rarely happened.

So-rim turned, and the staff hurried up to her.

“A guest is asking for you.”

“Huh?”

Sometimes guests would look for the chef to praise the food, but never for the youngest chef.

Even the busy Tae-young squinted in disbelief.

“Why would they want her?”

“I don’t know. They said it’s urgent.”

“Tell them she’s busy.”

“That’s difficult. It’s a VVIP… The manager told us to get her quickly. We tried saying no, but it didn’t work.”

The hall staff looked helplessly between Tae-young and So-rim.

So-rim pushed the peeled onion to the side and said slowly:

“I’ll go.”

She had a good guess about what was happening.

“Are you a chef here?”

The arrogant voice—could it be the VVIP mentioned by the hall staff?

Perhaps he was annoyed that she had told him not to smoke, so he wanted to give her a hard time.

Despite his elegant, impressive appearance, he seemed surprisingly childish in some ways.

So-rim thought this to herself as she brushed off the onion and potato peels from her uniform.

“If it’s a complaint, just apologize. If that doesn’t work, I’ll handle the rest.”

Tae-young’s voice called after her without hesitation.

So-rim nodded once in reply and opened the door leading to the hall.

“He doesn’t seem angry. It’s just… the atmosphere at that table is strange. Almost like a display.”

“Then why call me?”

“Curious myself.”

The hall staff whispered in her ear as they walked through the narrow corridor to the private room.

“Just admit it’s your mistake. If you get on the wrong side of Song Tae-ha of the Yunsan Group, it won’t end well…”

Song Tae-ha of the Yunsan Group?

So-rim’s eyes widened at the familiar name just as the hall staff knocked on the door and spoke:

“We’re coming in.”

They gave her a light push, leaving no room for hesitation.

So-rim stepped through the door reluctantly.

Inside the room—normally not open to non-VIPs—soft classical music played.

Perhaps Gabriel Fauré’s Pavane.

So-rim bowed slightly.

“You asked for… me?”

Trailing off, she carefully lifted her eyes to see the two people at the table:

A wide-eyed woman… and the man from the trash area.