Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Episode 4. A Fixed Recipe?

His memories after leaving the orphanage were broken into scattered fragments. He did not even know how he had managed to get on the motorcycle. His head was a mess.

After leveling up, all his injuries had disappeared, but dried blood still stained the back of his hand. No matter how much he wiped it, the fishy smell seemed to linger on his fingertips.

Strangely, though, he was not tired.

If anything, he felt unusually alert, as though a switch had been flipped somewhere inside his body. His vision, hearing, and sense of touch were all sharper than before. He could distinguish each sound individually: the faint vibration of the phone in his pocket, the whispers of survivors cautiously emerging onto the streets, even the distant wail of sirens.

‘Is this because I awakened?’

Jinho stood in front of the mirror in a public restroom and roughly wiped the blood from his face.

The water was cold.

That cold sensation actually made everything feel more real.

“...What do I do now?”

Fortunately, the motorcycle had survived the chaos unharmed, but his clothes were another matter. They were a complete mess, caked with dust and blood.

‘If I go back to the restaurant looking like this, I’ll probably have to explain myself first.’

Explain.

That thought made his head even more complicated.

How was he supposed to explain any of this?

I got caught up in a dungeon break and killed two monsters?

I gained an ability, butchered a monster, and even cooked it?

And the food seems to increase stamina?

‘I wouldn’t believe it either.’

In the end, Jinho went into a nearby clothing store and picked out the cheapest T-shirt and jeans he could find. It was only possible because the owner was nowhere to be seen.

He stopped for a moment in front of the counter.

Money.

“Ah.”

There was no cash in his wallet.

After thinking for a moment, Jinho took out the F-Rank Mana Stone stored in one corner of his inventory.

Then he placed it on the counter.

It was money too, in a way.

‘I’ll deal with it later if it becomes a problem.’

After changing clothes and stepping back outside, Jinho climbed onto his motorcycle.

The ride back felt strangely heavy.

I don’t want to go.

That thought kept repeating itself.

Still, he had to go.

Unless he planned to quit.

____________

The moment he opened the door, a familiar smell rushed over him.

The smell of oil.

The smell of flames leaping from the wok over the burner.

The hot aroma that rose when scallions and garlic were stir-fried over high heat.

It was the exact same kitchen as two hours ago.

Somewhere outside, a gate had opened and monsters had poured out, yet inside, order slips were still being attached and torn down. Someone poured sauce, someone chopped vegetables, and someone slid plates across the counter.

It felt as though he were the only one whose world had been turned upside down.

Perhaps hearing the door open, Yoon Heeseong looked over first.

“Why are you so late? And why didn’t you answer your phone?”

He looked at Jinho’s face and his changed clothes, then frowned.

“Well, look at you. You even changed clothes? Did you use the gate outbreak as an excuse to go screw around somewhere?”

For a moment, Jinho’s hand tightened.

It really was only for a moment.

‘What would it feel like to punch him in the mouth?’

He was not asking to be praised.

He was not asking Heeseong to understand what he had gone through.

But if a newsworthy disaster had occurred in the area where he had sent someone, could he not at least ask, ‘Are you okay?’

Instead, he was being treated like the youngest worker who had come back late from a delivery.

Just as Jinho opened his mouth to say something.

Bang!

The door was violently flung open again.

Senior cook Jungwoo came rushing in, completely out of breath. His face was pale, and he was panting heavily.

“We’ve got a serious problem!”

Heeseong and Jinho both turned toward him.

Without even catching his breath properly, Jungwoo pointed toward the back of the kitchen.

“Just come over here! Hurry!”

_____________

A tray full of freshly fried guobaorou was spread across the counter. More precisely, it had only been through the first fry.

Assistant chef Kim Honggyu picked one up with a pair of tongs.

Tap.

Even the sound of the tongs gripping it was ominous.

It was not the light, crisp sound of picking up fried food. It sounded like picking up something that had hardened solid.

Kim Honggyu’s expression was filled with silent anger.

“Who made this?”

His voice was low, but cold enough to make the entire kitchen fall silent.

Yoon Heeseong looked away before answering.

“...I did.”

“Looks like you fried it at a higher temperature than the standard calls for. Am I right?”

“We were short on time.”

Kim Honggyu said nothing for a moment.

That silence was even more frightening.

“Why were you short on time?”

Yoon Heeseong’s answer came half a beat late.

“There was a lot to do, and the kid who went out on delivery didn’t come back for a long time...”

Jinho stared at Yoon Heeseong without realizing it.

‘He’s blaming it on me?’

It was beyond absurd. He was the one who had sent Jinho out on the delivery, and now he was using that as an excuse for ruining the food?

Kim Honggyu’s gaze passed over Jinho. But he did not look as though he blamed him.

He looked closer to dumbfounded.

“Why did you send the youngest instead of calling the dedicated delivery driver?”

Yoon Heeseong’s mouth opened briefly, then froze.

“That’s...”

Before he could continue with his excuse, head chef Kim Jinman, standing beside them, picked up one of the pieces from the tray.

Without a word, he put it in his mouth.

After chewing a few times, he spat it directly into the trash can beside him.

Ptooey.

In the silent kitchen, the sound rang out unusually loudly.

Kim Jinman took a sip of water and spoke.

“Throw it all away. Start over from the beginning.”

At that, one of the senior cooks cautiously spoke.

“We have less than thirty minutes until dinner service. Couldn’t we just stop selling guobaorou for tonight?”

Kim Jinman’s eyes swept across the kitchen.

“Do the rest of you think the same?”

No one answered.

It was not an atmosphere where anyone could easily raise a hand, and everyone had their own station to worry about. No one wanted to take responsibility for someone else’s mistake.

Yoon Heeseong raised his hand again.

“Then I’ll redo it...”

“You stay out of it.”

Kim Jinman did not even look at him.

Yoon Heeseong’s expression twisted. He looked wronged. For some reason, Jinho found that expression a little amusing today.

The man who had been ordering him around and telling him to go make deliveries only a little while ago could not say a word when faced with his own mistake.

Jinho looked at the pile of guobaorou on the counter.

The hardened batter, the overly dark color.

That was when it happened.

A translucent window appeared at the edge of his vision.

[Failed Guobaorou (Grade F)]

- A Chinese dish made by coating pork in starch batter and frying it.

- Excessively high-temperature cooking has caused the coating to harden.

- Moisture has been lost from the interior, resulting in a rough texture and poor sauce absorption.

- Unsuitable for sale.

Jinho narrowed his eyes.

‘What is this...?’

Even ordinary food received an evaluation.

A grade, its condition, its problems, even whether it was commercially viable.

Which meant the system applied to ordinary food as well.

Before he realized it, Jinho raised his hand.

“I’ll help.”

The kitchen fell silent for a moment. Yoon Heeseong immediately turned his head.

You?

That was what his expression said.

Kim Jinman, however, merely looked at Jinho for a moment before nodding.

“Fine.”

Yoon Heeseong’s face stiffened even further.

______________

Sssssizzle-

When a few drops of batter were dropped into the oil, it began bubbling violently.

Kim Jinman stood beside him.

“The method is simple. Follow the recipe you know. Fry it once at medium temperature, then once at high temperature. I’ll make the sauce and keep watching from beside you. No need to get nervous.”

“Yes.”

Jinho answered briefly and looked at the fryer.

The surface of the oil entered his vision.

That was when it happened.

[Skill ‘Appraisal Lv.1’ is active.]

Fine patterns began appearing across the surface of the oil.

At first, he thought he was imagining it.

But he was not.

He could see everything: where the heat was spreading from, which areas were relatively hotter, how far the temperature would drop if the ingredients went in now, and approximately when it would rise again.

The thermometer had already passed 160 degrees Celsius.

But Jinho could tell.

It was still a little too low.

“Is the thermometer broken, by any chance?”

Kim Jinman looked at Jinho.

“...!”

After a brief silence, he answered.

“That’s right. I checked just now, and it’s broken. Probably one of the reasons that idiot made such a ridiculous mistake. Though even with that, it wouldn’t have turned out this badly if he’d followed the recipe properly.”

Jinho did not answer.

A little more.

A little more.

Now.

“Put it in.”

Almost simultaneously with Kim Jinman’s instruction, Jinho’s hand moved first.

The battered meat went into the oil.

Sssizzle-!

The oil reacted as though exploding. The coating bloomed like a flower.

The starch batter swelled in the oil, forming thin layers and hardening around the meat.

The sight felt strangely unfamiliar.

Small numbers appeared before Jinho’s eyes.

[Initial Adaptation Assistance - Frying Guide has been applied.]

[Estimated optimal timing: 59 seconds]

He stirred the pieces that had sunk to the bottom with a skimmer so they would not burn, glancing occasionally at the timer.

3

2

1

“Take it out.”

Kim Jinman spoke.

But Jinho was already lifting the fried pieces from the oil.

Thin streams of oil dripped from them. The color was neither too pale nor too dark.

The next batch was much the same. Since he could see the oil temperature, the proper timing to take them out, and even how long they needed to rest, there was no reason to hesitate.

‘Did I already know how to do this?’

After the first fry, the guobaorou was removed and left to rest. Once an order came in, the oil temperature would be raised. And once it passed 180 degrees Celsius, the rested guobaorou would be fried a second time.

No.

It was not that he knew.

He could see it.

The moment before the oil began to boil more violently, the limit the batter could withstand, even the instant moisture started leaving the meat—it all felt as though he could read it through his fingertips.

He knew the recipe, but if someone had told him to do all of this before, there was no way he could have executed every step perfectly. Yet now, his body moved smoothly exactly as he intended, and it was incredibly fun.

Fire, oil, meat.

It felt as though all of them were speaking to him.

‘Was cooking always this much fun?’

Jinho prepared for the second fry.

The oil temperature rose.

Now.

Jinho placed the rested guobaorou back into the oil.

Sssssizzle!

The sound was sharper than the first time.

The coating tightened into a thin layer, becoming firm yet crisp on the outside.

The timing to remove it was quicker than before.

Jinho’s hands moved faster.

His hesitation disappeared. Kim Jinman, who had been watching from beside him, asked.

“...Have you fried food before?”

“No. This is my first cooking job.”

Jinho answered without taking his eyes off the fryer.

“I see.”

Kim Jinman did not say anything after that. In the silence, only the sound of boiling oil filled the kitchen.

The voice that broke that silence belonged to assistant chef Kim Honggyu.

“Four orders of guobaorou in total!”

As he shouted, Kim Jinman picked up one of the pieces Jinho had just taken out.

It must have been quite hot, but he put it straight into his mouth without hesitation.

A system window appeared before Jinho’s eyes.

[Guobaorou (Grade D)]

- A Chinese dish made by coating pork in starch batter and frying it twice.

- Stable oil temperature and removal timing have resulted in a crisp exterior and moist interior.

- Combining it with Kim Jinman’s sauce may further improve the finished quality.

- The touch of a Dungeon Chef has partially influenced the dish, improving its overall quality.

‘Huh? This one doesn’t increase any stats?’

Jinho tilted his head as he examined the information on the finished dish. But he had no time to think about it. Kim Jinman had begun eating the guobaorou.

At a glance, his expression did not seem to change much as he chewed. But the speed of his chewing had clearly slowed.

First came the coating.

The outside was thin and crisp, but it did not shatter with an unpleasant hardness. The moment his teeth touched it, it broke lightly, and then the juices from the meat emerged a moment later.

It was not overly greasy either.

Guobaorou hurriedly fried during peak hours easily ended up burnt on the outside or, conversely, undercooked and soggy inside.

But this was different.

The coating was crisp, and the meat inside was cooked exactly as much as necessary.

Kim Jinman’s gaze briefly shifted toward Jinho’s hands.

“Good.”

Kim Jinman spoke briefly.

“Pour the sauce over it and send it out.”

It was not exactly praise. But there was recognition in his words. Yoon Heeseong, watching from nearby, could not say anything.

A few minutes later, the first plate went out to the dining area.

A thin layer of sweet-and-sour sauce coated the fried pieces. A transparent sheen spread across their surface. Even after the sauce was poured on, they remained crisp.

That alone was enough for Jinho to know.

It was a success.

He could see the customers in the dining area taking food from the plate.

One of them put a piece of guobaorou into their mouth and paused briefly.

Jinho watched.

The customer immediately said something to the person beside them. That person picked up a piece and ate it too.

Then nodded.

It was only a small reaction, but Jinho could tell.

They thought it was delicious.

______________

For a moment, there was room to breathe in the kitchen.

A small window of time to drink water and wipe away sweat.

Only then did Jinho stop moving.

Just as he was about to drink some water, his gaze drifted toward one corner.

‘Those are...’

The failed batches that had not yet been thrown away were piled there.

The guobaorou Yoon Heeseong had ruined at the beginning.

Pieces that could not be sold.

Hard, cooled pieces of fried food were gathered together on one tray.

Normally, they should be thrown away.

They could not be served to customers.

And yet Jinho found it difficult to look away.

‘Throw them away.’

He did not like throwing things away.

It reminded him of his childhood.

Memories of searching through a refrigerator with nothing to eat, soaking hardened rice in water and swallowing it, stopping for no particular reason in front of discarded food waste...

Perhaps because of that, even as he fried the next batch, his eyes kept drifting in that direction.

‘Couldn’t they be used somehow?’

At a glance, they were hard and tough. The outside was overcooked, and the moisture had already evaporated, so as guobaorou they were complete failures.

‘But what if they weren’t guobaorou?’

Jinho paused at that thought.

After checking whether anyone was watching, he quietly picked up one of the failed pieces. It felt hard against his fingertips.

Jinho opened his skill window.

Stir-frying, steaming, boiling, frying, grilling...

Many skills appeared, but it was difficult to tell at a glance what he should do.

‘Isn’t there a good way?’

As he stared down at the failed piece in thought, a system message appeared.

[No recipe has been identified.]

Jinho’s expression darkened.

‘So it won’t work after all?’

That had nothing to do with whether he disliked Yoon Heeseong.

Was throwing away food a sin?

No.

It was nothing that grand.

He simply did not want it to end like this.

That was when another system window appeared.

[Will the user become a chef who only makes food with predetermined ingredients and predetermined recipes?]

Jinho stopped breathing.

“...Ah.”

It was a realization like a bolt of lightning.

Cooking was not about memorizing an answer sheet. Recipes existed because someone had tried making them for the first time. From that perspective, even a failed ingredient could become a different dish. That thing was only a failure from the perspective of guobaorou.

Then what about from the perspective of another dish?

Jinho slowly raised his head.

A new message appeared at the edge of his vision.

[You may attempt to create a new recipe.]

[Ingredient: Failed Guobaorou]

[Recommended Direction: Cutting / Spice Stir-Frying / High-Temperature Reprocessing]

[Success probability will vary depending on the cook’s judgment.]

Jinho’s hand tightened.

The decision was his.

He looked down at the failed piece. Then he turned toward the head chef and spoke.

“This...”

His voice caught once.

He looked at the failed piece again.

“Could I try making this into something else?”