Next Morning
_____________
Slowly, the sun began to rise, casting away the weight of the dark night. Its golden rays slipped through the cracks of the curtains, gently filling the cozy house with soft warmth.
The light spilled across the wooden floors, touching everything with a quiet, sleepy glow.
A lump under the blanket shifted, groaning softly at the sudden warmth.
There, sprawled out like a lazy cat, lay a large yet soft-hearted boy,Hyun.
His dark hair was a tousled mess, cheeks faintly flushed with sleep. He blinked against the light, groaning at the time flashing on the clock. With a reluctant sigh, he threw the blanket off and got up, dragging himself to freshen up.
Soon, with slightly damp hair and a fresh hoodie clinging to his tall frame, Hyun descended the stairs.
His steps were slow but deliberate, each one landing with a quiet thud against the wood. His sharp, pin-like eyes swept across the space,observing everything,which he didn't do last night.
As it was his home now.
His space to manage.
And in its silence, a responsibility that settled deep in his chest.
He made his way to the dining area, gaze falling onto the table already set for breakfast.
The dishes were neat and minimal toast, salad, a little fruit,nothing extravagant.
It was the maid's work.
Taemin had arranged for one to help during their absences. She works from 9 to 6, tidy and efficient, carefully avoiding anything too personal.
As Taemin,the cold CEO, didn't like strangers disturbing the rhythms of his life. His house, his rules.
But Hyun,He hated eating food he hadn't made himself.
Especially not food made for convenience.
So without another thought, he headed straight to the kitchen, tying his apron in one swift motion.
The clatter of pans began softly, rhythmic and purposeful, filling the empty kitchen with life. Within minutes, the aroma of sizzling bacon wafted through the air.
Just as he finished, footsteps echoed behind him.
Enter Taemin.
Clad in a black suit so sharp it looked carved from the shadows themselves, he walked in with quiet authority.
His hair was slicked back, his face unreadable as ever. And Hyun, who often found himself glaring at Taemin's back, couldn't help but admitjust silently, to himself that the man looked like he'd stepped out of a movie.
Unable to reject that fact,that he belongs him now.
With slow steps,Taemin sat at the dining table without a word, adjusting his sleeves before neatly arranging his plate.
He moved with mechanical grace,placing toast, salad, fruit,all carefully selected,only skiping bacon,that Hyun had cooked
Hyun frowned, arms crossing over his chest.
"Why aren't you eating the bacon?" he asked, voice laced with irritation.
Taemin didn't even look up. "Why do I have to?"
Hyun blinked. "Because I made it."
At that, Taemin finally looked at him. Calm, composed, and utterly indifferent.
"That's exactly why I'm not eating it," he said, tone flat.
Hyun stood frozen for a second.
What the?
His thoughts screamed.
He is so mean!!
A hour later
___________
The soft chime of the restaurant door echoed through the quiet morning as Hyun pushed it open.
Warm light streamed in through the front windows, casting golden rays across the polished wooden floors and empty tables still waiting for the day's buzz.
Before he could even take a step inside, a blur of movement launched toward him.
"Hyunaaa! I missed you so much!" Jangwoon's arms wrapped around him in a tight, clingy hug, nearly knocking the breath out of him.
Hyun blinked, stiff for a second, then slowly patted his best friend's back. "Woon, I just saw you 24 hours ago."
"Still,...not being waking up with your scoldings,My life lost it's meaning," Woon whined dramatically, finally pulling away.
Hyun rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips.
The two of them walked toward the kitchen, falling into an easy rhythm as they began their usual opening routinechecking the stock, flipping on the lights, arranging utensils.The kitchen, their shared kingdom, came alive under their care.
Then,of course,Woon broke the silence.
"So, how was last night?" he asked with a smirk, leaning casually against the counter.
Hyun didn't even look up. "Yeah, did you forget? We are Arranged. Arranged, Woon."
Woon let out a laugh. "Okay, okay,sorry. What about Taemin? How's Mr. CEO?"
That made Hyun stop mid-slice, knife hovering over the cutting board. He turned with an exasperated glare.
"Don't. Even. Say. His. Name," he said, pointing the knife for emphasis. "Do you know how rude he is?"
Woon's grin only widened as he moved to stack the chairs properly, clearly enjoying the rant that was about to unfold.
"I have never seen anyone that arrogant in my life. Do you know what he did?"
"What?"
Hyun stomped over to the dough, slapping it onto the counter with a dramatic thud.
Hyun exahles,"He said no to the great Min Hyun's handmade meal. Can you believe it?"
Woon snorted, "Aren't you Kim now?"
"Whatever!" Hyun snapped, now kneading the dough with a bit too much force, the flour puffing up angrily around him as he continued to grumble.
"He didn't even look at it. Just said 'That's why I'm not eating it." Who even does that?!"
Woon just shook his head, trying not to laugh as he adjusted the napkin holders.
Inside, though, he knew the truth. Knew it from the way Hyun's ears went red when he talked about Taemin.
From the way his voice got extra loud whenever the man's name came up. From the way he never forgot even the smallest interaction.
"I don't think you hate him, Hyuna..." Woon said quietly, almost to himself.
Hyun didn't hear.
You just want his attention.
And deep down, maybe Woon was right.
The door creaked open breaking their silence.As aman in his 50s stepped inside, the weight of travel or perhaps time hanging from his shoulders. His voice, familiar and warm, echoed through the space.
"Is the restaurant open?" he asked, peering toward the counter.
"Mr.Kang, of course it is," Jangwoon replied with a grin, glancing up from wiping down the wooden counter. His voice held a mix of familiarity.
Mr. Kang's eyes wandered until they landed on a figure near the kitchen,Hyun, sleeves rolled up, towel slung over his shoulder, and a faint scowl already forming on his face.
"How are you doing, Hyun?" Mr. Kang asked, voice softer now.
Hyun turned sharply, his jaw tight. His eyes didn't hold the usual warmth.
"Don't talk to me,mr.kang," he said, almost spitting the words. "Why didn't you come to my wedding yesterday?"
The question hung in the air, heavier than the smell of garlic and soy that lingered in the room.
Mr. Kang stepped forward slightly, the lines on his face deepening. "Hyuna… will you believe it, if I say I'm not in the States?"
Hyun crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Don't try to reason it,"
He snapped, though a flicker of emotion danced in his eyes before he quickly looked away.
Mr. Kang exhaled slowly, his tone shifting.
"I got qualified as a judge for FC-2025," he said gently. "Didn't you wish to participate in it? I think I can help."
That flicker in Hyun's eyes sparked,but just as fast, he masked it behind a neutral expression as Mr. Kang admitted his defeat to lure other.
"Alright," Mr. Kang said after a beat, voice softening. "I'm sorry for not being able to be there with you."
Then,as if trying to change the mood, he added with a half-smile, "Can I have your handmade japchae? I didn't eat for hours. I'm so hungry."
Hyun didn't respond immediately. Instead, he walked over to the door and flipped the sign to Closed, locking it with a quiet click.
"Wait," he said curtly.
As Hyun disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of oil hitting the hot pan filled the room, followed by the rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the comforting sizzle of stir-fried noodles.
The smell of sesame oil and garlic wafted out, wrapping the space in warmth.
Jangwoon, knowing what was coming, moved instinctively to set the table.
He placed clean chopsticks and bowls with practiced ease, glancing toward the kitchen with a smile.
A few minutes later, Hyun emerged holding three steaming plates of japchae, the glossy noodles glistening under the overhead lights, colorful with thin slices of vegetables and beef. He set them down without a word.
Though Mr. Kang had asked for one plate, Hyun had made three.
Jangwoon didn't need an invitation. He pulled up a chair, already digging in.
Hyun sat quietly, but the tension in his shoulders eased with each bite. Mr. Kang took his first mouthful, closing his eyes briefly as the flavor took him back,perhaps to family dinners long past or old kitchen memories.
Their day passed like that. Full of laughter that gradually returned, quiet apologies unsaid, and the simple joy of shared food.
The small restaurant buzzed with life once more,not with customers, but with connection.
Epilogue
_________
At 17, Hyun believed flavors were meant to be created, not just copied.
Standing in the kitchen with a look of pure determination, he stirred his latest creation like it held the answer to everything.
"Today, I'm going for something bold," Hyun said, eyes gleaming. "Bitterness with depth, cinnamon, cloves… it'll taste like truth."
18-year-old Jangwoon leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Hope,it doesn't taste bad."
But Hyun didn't hear him.He took a spoonful, closed his eyes, and smiled like he'd unlocked a secret.
"People will love this. They just don't know it yet."
That was the problem.
Every time Hyun cooked without a manual, as he chased "soul or self made receipes" over structure.The dishes came out confusing too bitter, too intense, too strange.
But Hyun had a gift too: when he followed recipes, he made incredible food. Clean, warm, balanced. Woon knew that side of him well.
Still, Hyun wanted to push further. He cooked for hours, lost in trial and error. Nine hours. Ten. Sometimes more.
And Woon watched being worried.
At first, he tried honest feedback. But Hyun's eyes always sparkled with so much belief that Woon's words got stuck.
So instead, Woon started fixing things quietly.
When Hyun left the kitchen to scribble notes or crash on the couch from exhaustion, Woon would step in. Adjust the spices. Rework the broth. Add a softness to the sharp edges.
He didn't do it to take over. He did it because he knew Hyun's food could be great. People just needed to taste it, not struggle through it.
"Jangwoon, here,it's good, right?" Hyun asked one night, handing over a bowl with that same excited grin.
Woon tasted it. He could still sense the echo of the original,faint cinnamon, a whisper of cloves but now it worked.
Hyun watched him closely.
"Hyun, is it,"
"Flavoured with cinnamon, cloves, which enhances slight bitterness, making people enjoy it," Hyun interrupted proudly.
Woon smiled, not correcting him.
Because maybe it didn't matter who fixed what. What mattered was that people loved Hyun's cooking,and Hyun believed in it.
And Woon? He'd keep helping, quietly behind the scenes, making sure the soul in Hyun's food actually reached the plate.