Alpha Culinary Love

Jiyeon strolled into the kitchen the next morning, yawning, only to find Yura already up, dressed, and reading her tablet at the counter with the air of someone who hadn't woken up at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m.

"Well, well, look who's up and looking fancy," Jiyeon muttered, reaching for the coffee pot. "What's the special occasion?"

Yura didn't even glance up. "The occasion is I have a full day of work, unlike some people who think running a restaurant means you're 'working,'" she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.

Jiyeon scoffed, pouring herself a hefty mug of coffee. "Excuse me, I was practically juggling flaming hot pans and angry customers all night. You try doing that without collapsing in a fit of exhaustion."

Yura arched an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk forming on her face. "Are you suggesting my corporate meetings aren't as grueling as chopping vegetables?"

"Oh, please," Jiyeon waved her hand dismissively. "Your meetings probably involve high-tech chairs that massage your back while people drone on about profits. Meanwhile, I'm standing on my feet, fending off Kang before he sets fire to the kitchen, and trying to stop him from sneaking gold flakes onto the bulgogi."

Yura finally looked up from her tablet, eyes gleaming with mock amusement. "Well, that explains why you smell like burnt garlic and tragedy every night."

"Tragedy?" Jiyeon snorted. "I could say the same for you, Miss 'I Woke Up Looking Like I Stepped Off a Magazine Cover.'"

They exchanged smirks, the kind that hid a thousand comebacks and a million unsaid words, and for a moment, Jiyeon forgot that they had ever started out as two people on a marriage contract.

Jiyeon settled into the barstool next to Yura, sipping her coffee with half-lidded eyes. She looked like a cat who hadn't decided whether it wanted to nap or pounce on the nearest passerby. Meanwhile, Yura continued swiping through her tablet, the perfectly polished CEO facade back in place.

"So," Jiyeon began, breaking the silence. "Does today's schedule include anything fun, or is it just back-to-back meetings until you're ready to claw your way out?"

Yura sighed, glancing at her tablet. "It's all thrilling, I assure you. Forecasting, market reports, a lunch meeting with that insufferable Mr. Park who insists on referring to me as 'little lady,' and then a delightful board meeting where I get to listen to people explain to me how I should do my job."

Jiyeon snickered. "Sounds brutal. Do you need a pep talk before you go, or should I just lend you my chef's knife?"

Yura chuckled, a rare sound in the early morning, especially when she had a day like today looming over her. "The knife would be more efficient, but HR tends to frown upon bringing weapons into board meetings."

"More like HR frowns on you doing anything remotely fun." Jiyeon glanced at her with a mischievous grin. "If I were CEO for a day, I'd make you my personal assistant and send you to fetch coffee all day just to humble you a bit."

"Oh really?" Yura's eyes sparkled with a hint of challenge. "Do you even know how to run a company?"

Jiyeon shrugged, deadpan. "How hard can it be? Look pretty, act mysterious, tell people they don't work hard enough—that's what I see you doing."

Yura's laugh was genuine this time, soft but free, and it caught Jiyeon off guard. For a moment, she forgot to be sarcastic and just watched as the corners of Yura's mouth lifted. It was a rare sight, one that felt oddly private, like she'd been let into some secret part of Yura's world.

Before Jiyeon could say something sappy and ruin the moment, Yura stood, tablet tucked under her arm, and said, "Alright, try not to burn down the kitchen while I'm gone. I'd like my house to still be standing when I come home."

Jiyeon grinned. "I'll make no promises, CEO."

Yura rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of warmth in her gaze as she turned to leave. Just as she reached the doorway, she looked over her shoulder, an amused glint in her eye. "By the way, you left the oven on last night."

Jiyeon's mouth fell open in mock horror as Yura swept out of the room, all grace and authority, leaving Jiyeon sputtering behind her.

After finishing her coffee, Jiyeon shuffled around the house in search of something remotely resembling motivation. She had the day off from the restaurant, which left her aimless—and the last time she'd been left with this much free time, she'd ended up reorganizing the spice cabinet alphabetically. Twice.

As she wandered into the living room, her eyes caught sight of a dust-covered stack of books on the shelf. They were those artsy, hardcover types—more for show than for reading—but right now, they were at least mildly more interesting than folding laundry.

With a huff, Jiyeon grabbed the top book and flopped onto the couch, flipping it open at random. The page landed on some abstract art piece that looked like a particularly enthusiastic toddler's finger-painting session. She squinted, tilting her head, then gave up, mumbling to herself, "And they say my cooking is experimental."

Halfway through her pretend-interest in avant-garde art, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at the caller ID: Chef Kang.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Jiyeon picked up, bracing herself for whatever chaos her sous chef had inevitably stirred up. "Kang, I'm on my day off. This better be life-threatening."

Kang's voice crackled through the line, loud and as unfiltered as ever. "Good morning to you too, princess. Listen, I'm just calling to remind you that you owe me dinner after abandoning me last night to deal with those impossible customers."

Jiyeon rolled her eyes. "You mean the customers who actually liked your gold-flake bulgogi idea? I can't believe anyone actually enjoyed that."

Kang huffed, defensive. "I have exquisite taste, Jiyeon. You just don't appreciate the finer things in life."

"Oh, please," Jiyeon scoffed. "Your 'fine taste' nearly bankrupts the restaurant every time you get your hands on the truffle oil. Speaking of, stay out of my kitchen while I'm off, alright?"

"Relax, I'm just here… improving things," Kang replied, his tone too innocent to be trusted.

Jiyeon's heart stopped. "What do you mean, 'improving'?"

"Don't worry about it. Just focus on enjoying your day off. Go outside, take a walk, breathe in some fresh air—do whatever it is people do when they're not slaving away in a kitchen."

Jiyeon grumbled. "If you do anything that results in us serving gold-leaf ramen, I'm making you clean out the grease traps."

"Fine, fine," Kang said, and hung up with suspicious speed, leaving Jiyeon to wonder exactly what kind of culinary anarchy she'd walk into tomorrow.

Deciding that maybe Kang had a point about getting out, Jiyeon tossed on a jacket, grabbed her keys, and stepped outside. She wasn't sure where she was headed, but she let her feet take her wherever they wanted, which turned out to be the small park nearby.

It was quiet, the kind of mid-morning lull when most people were either at work or still nursing their second cup of coffee. Jiyeon found an empty bench under a tree and sat down, taking a deep breath of the crisp autumn air.

There was something oddly calming about being here, away from the demands of the kitchen, the snarky banter with Kang, and the unspoken tension that always lingered between her and Yura. It reminded her of why she loved cooking in the first place—not for the accolades or the business, but for the simple pleasure of creating something that made people happy, even if just for a moment.

As she sat there, lost in thought, her phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from Yura.

Yura: Have you done anything productive today, or are you still sulking about having a day off?

Jiyeon smirked, typing back quickly.

Jiyeon: If you count sulking as productive, then yes, I'm exceptionally busy.

A moment later, her phone chimed again.

Yura: Try not to let the world fall apart while I'm gone. We wouldn't want your reputation as a genius chef to be tarnished.

Jiyeon laughed, typing a quick reply.

Jiyeon: No promises.

Jiyeon settled deeper into the park bench, glancing at Yura's text with a bemused smile. Genius chef? Sure, if genius included accidentally burning rice more times than she could count back in culinary school. But she supposed in Yura's world, her impulsive kitchen experiments might look like brilliance. Or madness. Jiyeon squinted at the phone again, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Jiyeon: If the genius chef title sticks, I'll be insufferable.

Yura's reply came faster than expected.

Yura: As if you weren't already.

Jiyeon snorted out loud, catching a curious look from a passing jogger. She didn't care. There was something about Yura's messages that added a layer of warmth to the brisk air. Somehow, in these dry exchanges, their banter always felt like a private little world, one where Yura's stoic facade cracked just enough to reveal glimpses of her humor.

Jiyeon: When you get home, I'll have an invention waiting. "Burnt caramel and truffle soup." You'll love it.

Yura's reply was practically immediate.

Yura: You make that, and I'll tell Kang to put gold flakes on everything until the restaurant's broke.

Jiyeon laughed, imagining it—Kang smothering everything in glitzy ingredients until they had to auction off tables just to keep the lights on. She let herself sink into the comfortable back-and-forth with Yura, each message filling her with an odd sense of calm, until she realized she was… actually relaxed.