Chapter 21
“…Not bad.”
The comment was short, but it was positive.
Sorim smiled in relief.
“I’m glad.”
Taeha finished his bowl without saying anything.
Watching him scrape the bowl clean, Sorim thought:
Maybe this man is much lonelier than she had imagined.
After the meal, Taeha drank some water and stood up.
“Thanks for the food. Leave the cleaning to the helper tomorrow and go to sleep.”
“Yes. Good night.”
Taeha looked at Sorim once, then went into his room without another word.
Sorim stared blankly at the closed door.
There was no gentle hug, no romantic words.
It was just a cool relationship between employer and employee.
Still, Sorim hugged the notebook to her chest and thought:
This is enough.
Just this small warmth from a cold man was enough to keep her from feeling cold tonight.
As she cleared the empty dishes, Sorim happily wondered what she should cook for Taeha tomorrow.
Even if this warmth became another chain that tied her down, for now, she just wanted to enjoy it.
After the night Taeha returned from France, the atmosphere in the Hannam-dong penthouse had subtly changed.
The biggest change was Sorim’s daily life.
After work, sitting at the heavy mahogany desk in the study and studying her father’s notebook became the most important part of her day.
Flip. Flip.
The sound of turning pages echoed regularly in the quiet room.
Sorim carefully read each sentence, as if using a magnifying glass.
On the old paper, filled with twenty years of time, her father’s rough handwriting seemed to dance.
It wasn’t easy to understand. But she enjoyed even that.
It felt like talking with her father alone, beyond time and space.
Do not damage the natural taste of the ingredients.
A sauce should not hide flaws like a mask, but highlight them like makeup.
Reading the note written in the corner, Sorim nodded.
The cooking philosophy she had only vaguely felt before was clearly explained in her father’s words.
Something hot rose in her chest.
A pure passion for cooking—and a strong desire to succeed.
“…I want to try it right now.”
Sorim stood up suddenly.
It was already past midnight. Everyone was asleep, but she couldn’t hold back her desire to create.
Holding the notebook to her chest, she went down to the first-floor kitchen.
When she opened the large refrigerator, it was filled with top-quality ingredients Taeha had stocked through his office.
She took out shallots, unsalted butter, and dry white wine.
She decided to make a basic base sauce—something her father emphasized the most.
Ssssss—
The butter melted into a yellow liquid on the hot pan, and the thinly sliced shallots began to cook.
It was a process that required long patience.
If the heat was too strong, it burned. If too weak, no flavor came out.
Sorim stirred nonstop, gripping the wooden spatula tightly, until the shallots turned deep brown and caramelized perfectly.
After some time—
The kitchen filled with a rich smell—sweet and nutty, mixed with the sharp scent of wine.
Sorim scooped a little of the thick sauce with a spoon and brought it to her mouth.
That was when—
“Why aren’t you asleep?”
Startled by the low voice behind her, Sorim turned around.
Taeha was standing there.
His hair was wet as if he had just showered. Through his loosely tied bathrobe, she could see water droplets on his firm chest.
It was very different from his usual perfect suit—lazy, unguarded, and somehow dangerous.
Sorim quickly looked away, her face heating up.
“Ah… sorry. Was I too noisy?”
“No. I came out to drink water. Someone was making noise in the kitchen.”
He walked closer slowly.
As he approached, the bitter scent of shower gel mixed with the smell of food, creating a strange tension.
Leaning against the fridge, he looked down at her.
His gaze stayed not on the sauce, but on Sorim in her thin pajamas.
“Cooking at this hour. You’ve got good stamina.”
“I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to practice what’s in my father’s notebook.”
“The smell isn’t bad.”
He looked at the dark brown sauce bubbling in the pan.
His face looked calm, but there was clear curiosity in his eyes.
After hesitating, Sorim poured a little sauce into a small bowl and held it out.
“Would you… like to taste it?”
“Are you experimenting on me?”
“No! I just… learned this recipe thanks to you, so I wanted you to try it first.”
Taeha glanced at her, then silently took the spoon and tasted it.
“….”
His expression didn’t change as he rolled the taste around in his mouth.
Sorim swallowed nervously.
She was afraid he might say it was bad.
After a moment, Taeha spoke.
“…It’s dangerous.”
“What? Does it taste weird?”
“No. It’s addictive.”
His dark eyes met Sorim’s.
“How can simple onions taste like this? Sweet, bitter, and deep.”
“That’s the charm of shallots. When you cook them for a long time, the sweetness concentrates.”
“Hm.”
He tasted it again.
“You’re talented. I’ll admit that.”
“That’s a compliment, right?”
Sorim smiled softly.
Seeing her smile, Taeha felt a strange sense of familiarity.
It reminded him of a warm smile someone had shown him long ago.
But he quickly pushed the thought away.
“Stop now and go to sleep. You have work tomorrow.”
“I’ll just finish this. You go ahead.”
“Alright.”
He lightly tapped her shoulder, grabbed some water, and went upstairs.
Watching his back disappear, Sorim picked up the spatula again.
The sauce bubbled in the pan, filling the penthouse with a sweet and bitter smell.
It was a sign that their relationship was slowly, very slowly, beginning to mature.
Even though neither of them knew yet what they would come to mean to each other.
The next day.
Sorim woke up earlier than usual and prepared breakfast.
Soup made with last night’s shallot sauce, freshly baked baguette, and a fresh salad.
Sitting at the table, Taeha raised an eyebrow at the meal.
“Looks pretty decent.”
“Try it. It’s better than yesterday.”
He took a spoonful of soup.
“….”
His hand stopped.
It was warm.
Not just hot in temperature, but warmth that sank deep into his stomach.
A breakfast no one had ever prepared for him before.
He realized for the first time that mornings—usually just coffee and toast—could feel this warm.
“Well?” Sorim asked, eyes full of hope.
Taeha pretended to be calm and kept eating.
“It’s edible.”
“That’s it?”
“It’s excellent. Happy?”
At his blunt praise, Sorim laughed softly.
He silently finished the bowl, scraping it completely clean.
The empty bowl showed how satisfied he was.
After eating, Taeha stood up and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“Thanks for the meal. And—”
He took a card out of his wallet and placed it on the table.
“For ingredients and labor. Buy whatever you need.”
“…You don’t have to. I still have the card from before…”
“Take it. I don’t eat free meals. And I won’t let my wife save small money and use cheap ingredients.”
A very Taeha-like comment.
A man who turns everything into numbers.
But this time, Sorim didn’t refuse the card.
She felt that this was the best kindness he knew how to show.
“…Then I’ll use it well. I’ll make something even better next time.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Taeha answered shortly and headed for the door.
“I’m going to work.”
“Have a good day.”
After the door closed, Sorim held the card tightly.
It was a cold piece of plastic—but somehow, it felt warm
