I Will Find You - Chapter Nine

And just like that, Ji-young returned to the life she used to live.

Sort of.

While her heart and her time remained in the Joseon royal kitchen.

Definitely.

Burning the candle on both ends, she used her home kitchen as well as that at Enfin to her full advantage to create a new menu. She used her knowledge of the Joseon royal cuisine she’d come across as the Chief Royal Cook and His Majesty’s meticulous notes and records of her dishes in the Mangunrok.

Reading his handwriting and looking at his sketches didn’t hurt so much anymore. Quite the contrary, it brought her solace and peace, as if by honoring her stay in Joseon, cooking the food he enjoyed, she was doing the right thing. Suddenly, memories of him were no longer tinged with sadness and regret. Instead of tragedy and loss, she remembered other moments. Him watching her intently as she tasted the food she prepared, smiling as he tasted it, smiling at her, using every opportunity he could to be close to her, touch her...

She applied the techniques learned in culinary school and later in Paris and using the best possible ingredients, developed a seven-course tasting menu fit for a king and named it Chief Royal Cook’s Dining Course.

The appetizer in the form of beef tartare with seaweed was followed by on-top pollack tofu with pollack double consommé, a platter of nine delicacies made with seasonal herbs as a palate cleanser, then a fillet of beef short rib with Korean rice & wild grape wine, steamed fillet of rolled cod with assorted vegetables, and ginseng-infused ogolgye samgyetang dumpling soup. All rounded up with assorted mini-macarons nestled in a coronet-styled inverted spun sugar cage.

 

The development took her less than a week, in which her father moved out and back into his old downtown apartment. But he dropped by quite often to be her taste tester. She figured he just couldn’t refuse free food.

And, thanks to the skills, enthusiasm, and dedication of the Enfin chefs, the menu and preparations were finalized just as quickly, with the new dining course unveiled to the public less than two weeks after she took over the Enfin kitchen.

It didn’t take long for word of mouth to spread, and the restaurant was suddenly so busy, Ji-hu had to resort to double seating for both lunch and dinner.

People flocked into Enfin from all over the world, enjoying their food, each other’s company, and posting on social media with images of the food all over Instagram...Chief Royal Cook’s Dining Course was a raving success.

So much so, the owners, via Ji-hu, were dropping more and more hints about extending their working relationship with her indefinitely.

During the lunch shift, less than ten days before her contract was up, Ji-hu, a grin on his face and a spring in his step—a regular occurrence since the restaurant started filling up daily—approached the kitchen island on which she was checking the dishes before service, with a tablet in his hands.

“Chef Yeon, take a look at this.”

He presented the tablet with a flourish, and she could see it wasn’t his regular tablet to take orders on. It was a normal tablet with her picture on the screen.

She remembered the day it was taken. A few days back a foodie magazine reviewer came in with a photographer in tow; they had lunch, took a bunch of pics of the food, and in the end insisted she pose as well.

She refused to pose alone, so the other cooks joined before all of them slunk back, leaving her alone. Traitors.

Ignoring the photo, she glanced at the title—she’d read the review later, leisurely—and smiled.

Nature-infused modern royal Korean cuisine—high praises for the Chief Royal Cook's Dining Course!

Everybody around her clapped.

“Congratulations.”

“She’s awesome.”

“Congratulations, Chief Royal Cook!”

She shook her head. “They should’ve used the group photo. Everybody deserves the praise and applause. You all work so hard.” She turned around, facing them all, and clapped. “This is a group success. Without you, there would be no Chief Royal Cook’s Dining Course.”

∞

Heon was looking down at Seoul from Steve’s terrace, contemplating his conundrum. It’s been more than a month, and they still haven’t been able to find Ji-young or even a mention of her. And they’ve been trying, especially Jae-hyeok.

There were apparently only two options left: hire a private detective or hire a very good hacker. He could afford both, and more than one. He’d instructed Steve, his now actual financial adviser, to donate most of the fortune in his bank account to various charities, yet the interest from the various investments the bank had made throughout the century was steadily trickling in. His little brother had truly taken care of him.

Not that Heon cared about money or properties. What good were they when he had no one to share them with? As far as he was concerned, Steve could sell and donate it all. The only thing that mattered was finding Ji-young. Which was proving to be impossible.

His phone on the small table in the corner made a strange sound. It wasn’t a received text message or call—only Steve and Jae-hyeok knew his number, and Steve was in the living room. Steve’s phone made the same strange sound, only fainter.

“Holy shit!” Steve yelled a few heartbeats later. “She’s back on the grid!” He poked his head out onto the terrace. “Shouldn’t you be jumping for joy?”

“What are you talking about?”

Steve blinked. “Didn’t you check your phone?”

Heon shrugged. “It made a strange sound.”

“Yeah. You got a notification.”

“How? For what?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I set it up. For your girl.” He picked up the phone off the table and offered it. “Here. Feast your eyes.”

Heon snatched the gadget out of Steve’s hand, pressed his index finger against the notification rectangle...And there she was. Dressed in a white coat with a white hat on her head, arms crossed, and a satisfied, proud smile on her face.

“You’re drooling,” Steve whispered. The none-too-gentle shove made him chuckle.

Heon read the article—review. Of course she received high praise for her food. She was the best. She’s even managed to satisfy his picky, demanding palate.

“Restaurant Enfin,” he murmured.

“Looking it up now,” Steve replied without being asked. “It’s pretty close, Hotel Amba. We can be there in half an hour.”

Heon shook his head. “No, make a reservation.”

He wanted to meet her again at the restaurant. In the restaurant. Where she served food, she used to cook in Joseon. Food she used to cook for him. He needed her out of the kitchen, and the only way to do that was to piss her off. And the only one—beside him, that is—that could do that in the past was...

He grinned.

Steve looked at him as if he’d grown wings. “Why? She’s right there. You waltz in, sweep her off her feet, and live happily ever after.”

The grin vanished. “Make a reservation.”

Steve gulped. “What’s with the glare? I didn’t do anything,” he whined.

Jae-hyeok chose that moment to call. Steve put him on speaker. “We saw,” he said, eyeing Heon warily. “He was drooling just a second ago, now he’s glaring at me to make a reservation.”

“What for? She’s right there,” Jae-hyeok parroted his earlier words. “Besides, I checked, it’s impossible to get a reservation. They’re booked up the wazoo.”

“He’s glaring, man,” Steve hissed. “One of those glares. You better make it happen, or I might not make it. Remember, he still has the sword.”

“I have an idea,” Jae-hyeok replied. “Hold on.” And he hung up.

 

That same evening, as the three stepped out of the elevator, Steve was still whining. “Why does it have to be me?”

Jae-hyeok rolled his eyes. “Because your family name got you the reservation. Mind you, I had to pretend to be your secretary.”

“Why don’t you come with me?”

“Because all I could get was a reservation for one. And you’re it.” Jae-hyeok grabbed his shoulders and turned him toward the restaurant. “Now, man up and go act like a dick.”

“But why does it have to be meeeee?”

Jae-hyeok lightly shoved him to propel him away from the elevator. They were causing a jam. “You’re the one with acting experience.”

Steve glared at him. “That was in second grade. And I played a tree!”

“You’re expanding your range. Be thankful.”

“Piss off,” Steve hissed, then tsked and glared at Heon. “And why does he get to be elegant in black and I have to wear this?”

He looked down at his dark, pointy shoes, white—freaking white!—pants, dark navy jacket, and silk neck scarf. As he did, the glasses he didn’t need and that made him look like a geek slid down his nose.

“Because he’s getting the girl,” Jae-hyeok explained patiently. “You’re the dick that’s going to help him.”

“But why do I have to be the dick?” Steve hissed.

“Stop complaining,” Jae-hyeok snapped. “It is what it is.” He checked his watch. “You’re on, act your ass off.”

With one last glare at Heon and Jae-hyeok, Steve tugged at his jacket, puffed up his chest, and walked into the restaurant.

A tall, young man, his nameplate indicating he was the manager, greeted him. “Good evening, sir. Did you make a reservation?”