Chapter 24 : Call the Head Cook Out

Chapter 24: Call the Head Cook Out

It was a late evening.

Jin Seong-un let out a long sigh.

He needed to repair the broken dining table and chairs, but there was no decent carpenter in Yichang.

Buying new ones wasn’t easy either. Yichang’s commercial district wasn’t very big, so they had to be brought in from another region through the merchants’ associations or trading companies.

An inn shouldn’t have any days off.

It was something he had personally learned from living as a waiter for over a decade. Even if business resumed the very next day after a closure, the number of customers would still drop.

Just as Jin Seong-un’s worries deepened—

Seo Yu-gyeom came over and said,

“How about just taking a few days off? We can hire a proper carpenter, replace all the furniture, and even build a small annex in the backyard. We can’t keep sleeping on the inn’s floor forever, can we?”

He wasn’t wrong.

Jin Seong-un had also thought about creating a separate space to sleep in someday.

“The problem is that finding a good carpenter is even harder than buying a table and chairs. And to build an annex, we’d have to close business for a few days as well…”

Lately, Jin Seong-un had been truly feeling the difficulties of running a business. These were problems he’d never noticed back when he was just a waiter.

As his sigh filled the inn—

An old man with hair turned completely white lifted the beaded curtain and stepped inside. His burning gaze seemed to hold a faint flame within.

Seo Yu-gyeom discreetly slipped his hand into his clothes, gripping the Heaven-Slaying Dagger. Jin Seong-un also briefly checked the position of the Black High Sword.

A faint aura of inner force could be felt from the old man—clearly a proper martial artist, not some ordinary wanderer.

“Are you Jin Seong-un?”

The old man’s dry yet solid impression matched his firm tone. Jin Seong-un nodded in response.

“Yes, I am, but we’re closed for the day.”

“I see.”

The old man, half-listening, walked further in. Before Jin Seong-un or Seo Yu-gyeom could stop him, he clicked his tongue while glancing around inside the inn.

“It’s all smashed to pieces. Looks like some martial artists came by, huh?”

He then picked up the broken debris and tossed it outside.

“Everyone, come in.”

His voice carried clear internal energy.

Suddenly, the sound of cart wheels rolling rapidly came from outside, stopping in front of the inn.

More than a dozen workers entered, carrying timber, hammers, and saws.

Jin Seong-un and Seo Yu-gyeom just stared in bewilderment.

The old man and the skilled craftsmen began assessing various parts of the building, then split up and got to work.

Some cleared away the wreckage—doing it much faster than ordinary laborers thanks to their martial arts.

Others began hammering and sawing—cutting wood with just a few strokes.

Their skill was extraordinary.

“…But who are you?”

Jin Seong-un asked cautiously.

Without even looking at him, the old man replied in a tone that suggested he found the question bothersome.

“Shin Mok.”

Jin Seong-un tilted his head.

It was a name he had never heard before.

Or was it an alias?

While he was wondering, Seo Yu-gyeom—uncharacteristically wide-eyed—nudged him in the ribs.

Unlike Jin Seong-un, Seo Yu-gyeom’s past as an assassin had made him well-informed about the world.

He knew the alias Shin Mok well.

The greatest carpenter of their time—rumored to have even built several structures in the imperial palace.

Seo Yu-gyeom sent a telepathic message to Jin Seong-un.

— A carpenter worth a hundred gold taels.

Naturally, that was the kind of fee an assassination request would cost.

Jin Seong-un’s eyes widened. For someone who wasn’t even a martial artist but a carpenter to be worth a hundred gold taels…

Another question arose.

“We were indeed looking for a carpenter, but how did you know to come here? And we don’t have that much money…”

If he was the greatest carpenter of the era, the fee would be considerable. Hiring such a person just to repair the inn’s tables and chairs seemed excessive.

Hearing his concern, Shin Mok frowned openly, his voice still laced with annoyance.

“That White Cloud Sword fellow called me here. I’ll be collecting payment from the Wudang Sect. And don’t bother me while I’m working—go outside.”

Straightening his back, Shin Mok looked around the inn with obvious dissatisfaction.

“Since I’m here anyway, I’ll fix up this shabby interior too. By the way, where do you live?”

“I live here in the inn.”

“So you sleep on the floor, huh? Tsk. I’ll also put up a small annex in the backyard before I leave.”

He nodded knowingly.

Innkeepers with little capital couldn’t operate separate lodgings for themselves. Until they made enough money, they ate, slept, and washed at the inn.

“Elder, I appreciate the thought, but if I want to keep the business running, I can’t take that long—”

“One day.”

“Pardon?”

“Do you think we’re some random laborers who need days to finish? Hmph. I told you to get out already!”

“…Yes.”

Jin Seong-un found himself being kicked out of Seong-un Inn.

He didn’t forget to ask that they leave the storage shed in the backyard untouched.

— What’s this shabby shed for?

— It’s actually where I do my breathing exercises.

Remembering that Shin Mok was a martial artist, Jin Seong-un explained. Shin Mok nodded in understanding.

Martial artists usually practiced breathing exercises in the place they felt safest and most familiar with.

In other words, it was his most private and secret space. Having explained that, Shin Mok would neither unlock the chain on the shed door nor go near it.

The two wandered aimlessly.

Even though they’d unexpectedly gotten a day off, they had nothing in particular to do.

Seo Yu-gyeom, however, seemed quite pleased and chuckled.

“Shin Mok, huh. Never thought that grumpy old man would end up helping us.”

Just then, a chill ran down Seo Yu-gyeom’s spine. His body reacted even faster than his thoughts.

Without hesitation, he spun and slashed with the Heaven-Slaying Dagger.

Tak.

The blade was easily blocked by a sheath. Hyeon-un smirked slyly.

“Here comes another grumpy old man. By the way, no matter how I look at you, it seems you were an assassin before you started holding a kitchen knife. You’re quite skilled.”

A glint flashed in Hyeon-un’s eyes.

Standing beside the massive talent that was Jin Seong-un might have made him seem overshadowed, but Seo Yu-gyeom was also an exceptional martial artist for his age.

“…I told you, I’m just a head cook.”

“Right, right. Just a head cook.”

Hyeon-un said that and looked closely at Seo Yu-gyeom’s Heaven-Slaying Dagger.

The dagger had no special features, so there was no way Hyeon-un could recognize it. Even so, Seo Yu-gyeom, feeling guilty for no reason, quickly hid the dagger back in his clothes.

Hyeon-un let out a hearty laugh, as if finding it amusing.

Jin Seong-un respectfully clasped his hands toward him.

“Thank you for sending the craftsman. I will cover the cost.”

“Oh-ho, how could I take money from a friend of my disciple? Surely you don’t intend to turn me into some petty man and a laughingstock of the world, do you?”

Jin Seong-un closed his mouth.

When someone older and of higher standing pressed like that, there was nothing more to say.

Hyeon-un then grinned and handed over the sword—still in its sheath—that he had used to block Seo Yu-gyeom’s dagger.

“I picked this up on my way here. Upon inspection, it’s a decent enough sword. I hear the one you’re using is a Black Path sword.”

Hyeon-un had already heard all about Jin Seong-un from Oh Jeong-san. After all, they say if you know yourself and your enemy, you need not fear a hundred battles.

When Jin Seong-un stared at the sword, Hyeon-un pushed it forward even more.

“You should take it. As you can see, I already have a Wudang Sect sword. At my age, it’s tiring to carry two heavy swords around.”

Jin Seong-un reluctantly accepted the sword.

When he drew it carefully, the blade felt familiar.

“This is…”

“Good grief! Who would throw away a sword like this on the street? Tch.”

It was a Taiji Sword, the same as Oh Jeong-san’s and Hyeon-un’s.

The one Hyeon-un gave lacked only the Taiji emblem.

“Elder… I cannot become a disciple of the Wudang Sect.”

“Oh-ho, listen to this man. I never even said I’d give you rice cakes, and here you are refusing them.”

Jin Seong-un smacked his lips.

When he put it like that, there was nothing more to say again. Besides, refusing the sword would be an insult to the elder’s sincerity.

With a small sigh, Jin Seong-un hung the sword at his waist. Even from just holding it briefly, he could feel it was several times better than the Black High Sword.

“I will use it well, with gratitude.”

“Heh-heh.”

Hyeon-un beamed with satisfaction.

To him, Jin Seong-un was like a potential late-in-life disciple—perhaps even a stepping stone to the summit—so everything about the boy seemed endearing.

Several days passed like that.

Seong-un Inn was incredibly peaceful.

For some reason, the Southern Black Lotus made no moves.

Even Oh Jeong-san, who had initially been suspicious, relaxed once both his own informants and even the Beggar’s Gang confirmed there were no unusual activities from the Southern Black Lotus.

The inn had been completely repaired.

No—repair wasn’t the right word.

It was as if the entire place had been torn down and rebuilt from scratch.

The chairs and tables no longer scraped the floor no matter how hard they were pulled, and they made no noise even when a burly man sat on them.

The walls were adorned with elegant carvings imbued with the soul of a master craftsman.

The lamps placed throughout illuminated the interior in harmony, and the layout was designed so that the head cook and the waiter’s movements never overlapped.

There were three more tables than before.

Yet the interior somehow looked more spacious.

In the backyard, a small annex had been built.

It was, of course, too small for lodging guests.

But it was more than enough to serve as separate rooms for Jin Seong-un and Seo Yu-gyeom.

Most impressive of all—

Click.

Jin Seong-un opened a door inside his room.

Beyond it was the door to the storage shed that had been in the backyard.

The unparalleled master had honored Jin Seong-un’s request to leave the shed untouched, yet incorporated it seamlessly into the room’s design.

A true craftsman fulfills the client’s request perfectly while still embedding his own philosophy.

Jin Seong-un could now understand why nobles, martial artists, and officials adored master artisans.

Thanks to the improved environment, both Jin Seong-un and Seo Yu-gyeom—and even the customers—were extremely satisfied.

The food and drink cost the same, but the atmosphere was far more refined, so there was no reason to dislike it.

Tak.

Jin Seong-un placed a bottle of Flower Wine on the customers’ table and bowed.

The middle-aged men at the table smiled in satisfaction.

“People say the head cook’s dishes are the heart of this inn, but I disagree.”

When one man said this, the others nodded in agreement.

They were locals who had long settled in Yichang, and naturally, they had visited the inn many times before.

At some point, the waiter had begun to anticipate their needs without being told.

For example, like now—bringing Flower Wine just before they were about to order it, or simply bowing lightly and moving on so as not to interrupt when they were in the middle of an important conversation.

This comfortable atmosphere of the inn was entirely the creation of that waiter.

While the men were praising Seong-un Inn, Jin Seong-un, and Seo Yu-gyeom in turn—

Creak, thud.

The inn’s door swung open, and a group entered.

The customers, who had been enjoying a relaxed evening, suddenly grew quiet.

The newcomers were five in number, all young.

At most, they looked to be around twenty. At the very oldest, no more than twenty-five.

Yet every customer in the inn was gauging their mood.

Thud.

Three men and two women took seats and placed their swords on the tables.

Their martial arts uniforms, made from fine materials, and their fairly ornate scabbards showed they were promising talents from distinguished families.

“What can I prepare for you?”

Jin Seong-un approached and bowed.

Two of the women opened their eyes a bit wider. For a waiter, he was remarkably clean-cut and handsome.

The men with them did not miss this.

One man in particular—a large-framed fellow with a square, rugged face—narrowed his eyes unpleasantly.

“You a waiter?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Not much of a likable face. This place must be struggling.”

“I will do my best.”

Jin Seong-un replied politely.

Customers, regardless of age, gender, or status, were all precious.

“Three of the most expensive dishes here, and five bottles of your finest liquor.”

“Shall I prepare Hong Shao Rou, Jing Jiang Rou Si, and Mapo Tofu for the dishes, and the special Bamboo Leaf Green for the liquor?”

The man waved his hand dismissively, as if to say, do as you wish.

Jin Seong-un bowed his head.

As he did, two particularly familiar swords among those placed on the table caught his eye.

‘Taiji Swords.’

It seemed that one of the women and one of the men were promising talents of the Wudang Sect.

After passing the order to Seo Yu-gyeom, Jin Seong-un went back to his tasks.

The waiter was always busy.

He constantly checked to make sure customers were comfortable, cleared tables promptly after meals, and guided new customers to appropriate seats based on their age and gender.

All the while, the voices of the young talents continued to reach his ears.

Or rather, it seemed they were speaking loudly so he could hear.

“They sure went all out for an inn smaller than a room.”

“Brother Seomun, you must understand—those with nothing are the ones who most want to show off.”

It seemed they were talking about the patterns and decorations Shin Mok and his colleagues had carved by hand.

The two who had just spoken were promising talents from the Seomun Clan and the House of Seok.

By habit, Jin Seong-un tried to guess the customers’ intentions from their conversation.

The two from the Wudang Sect didn’t seem to care much—just a little uncomfortable, as if the inn’s size didn’t meet their expectations.

On the other hand, the men from the Seomun Clan and the House of Seok seemed irritated—probably because things weren’t going well with the women they were with.

Lastly, the green-eyed woman seemed to simply be enjoying the situation. To be precise, she appeared to find the men’s coarse words and behavior amusing.

‘In short, trouble’s coming.’

Having worked as a waiter for well over a decade, he could more or less guess what was about to happen.

Sure enough—

When Jin Seong-un set down the drinks and dishes one by one, the man from the Seomun Clan took a bite of the food as if he had been waiting for it.

The next words were obvious.

‘You call this cooking?’

“You call this cooking?!”

The thought in Jin Seong-un’s head and the words from the Seomun man came almost simultaneously.

Jin Seong-un bowed his head.

“My apologies. If you tell me what displeased you, I will prepare it again.”

A response that came back as if anticipated.

At that, the youngest of the Seomun Clan, Seomun Ak, flinched instead.

He had never encountered a waiter like this before.

“What’s wrong with it, you ask?”

Seomun Ak repeated the question, trying to buy time.

Jin Seong-un nodded.

He assumed they would point out either the spiciness of the Mapo Tofu or the doneness of the Hong Shao Rou.

After some thinking, the man spoke.

“This Mapo Tofu isn’t spicy at all. How can you call this Mapo Tofu?”

Jin Seong-un nodded calmly.

In truth, the Hubei-style Mapo Tofu was not spicy at all, unlike the Sichuan style. But saying that outright would surely result in, ‘How dare a mere waiter lecture me!’ and a tantrum.

The real problem wasn’t his tantrum—

it was the tantrum Seo Yu-gyeom would throw afterward.

Jin Seong-un tried his best to save this stranger named Seomun Ak.

“I will prepare it again for you.”

Bowing his head, Jin Seong-un picked up the Mapo Tofu to return to the kitchen. He planned to tell Seo Yu-gyeom to endure it this time if possible.

That was the nature of business.

If you showed your strength and temper as they were, who would ever come to eat?

Unless they were like the Black Division Captain—customers who transformed into martial artists mid-meal—it was best to accommodate them with as much humility as possible.

Thinking that, he was just about to return to the kitchen—

When someone grabbed his arm.

Turning his head, he saw Seomun Ak.

It seemed he thought he hadn’t gotten enough of an apology yet.

‘I made a mistake.’

He had let his guard down because the man was a promising talent of the orthodox path, not the Black Path.

He knew that sometimes, even among the orthodox, there were ruffians as bad as those on the Black Path.

But the sound of Seo Yu-gyeom’s chopping in the kitchen growing sharper had dulled his judgment—a fatal mistake.

“…Is there some other problem?”

“Call the head cook out. If he’s really a head cook, he should know what Mapo Tofu is supposed to taste like. Did he deliberately serve us this to mock us? I’ll hear his reason and decide whether to forgive him.”

The reason Seomun Ak was so fixated on Sichuan-style Mapo Tofu was simple— he wanted to impress the daughter of the Tang Clan, the rulers of Sichuan.

Jin Seong-un, unusually, had a tense look on his face, with a slight sheen of sweat forming on his palm.

Seeing this, Seomun Ak tightened his grip on Jin Seong-un’s arm with the face of a victor.

Ruffians always became more domineering the moment they thought their opponent was afraid.

And at the same time— the sound of chopping from the kitchen came to an abrupt stop.