The interview room was on another level entirely — soft lighting, leather chairs, and a sleek tablet already displaying Ji-Ho's CV.
Mr. Kang asked calmly,"So, Ji-Ho… where did you learn to cook?"
"From my mother," Ji-Ho replied honestly. "And I worked part-time at a small café in our village."
"What kind of dishes can you make?"
"Mostly traditional Korean — kimchi stew, japchae, bibimbap… but I've also tried my hand at fusion dishes. I'm pretty confident with those. I know a bit of baking too."
Mr. Kang simply nodded,"Hmm… alright."
The interview wasn't exactly warm, but it wasn't unfriendly either — just that cool, polished professionalism Seoul was known for. During the discussion, Mr. Kang asked him about some traditional dishes, and Ji-Ho's knowledge clearly impressed.
Once it was over, Mr. Kang stood up and said,"Come. Let me show you your kitchen."
They took a luxury elevator down to a separate wing on the ground floor — the Main Kitchen Zone.
As soon as the doors opened, it felt like stepping into another world: high-tech equipment, sleek stainless-steel counters, smart ovens, sous-vide machines — everything gleaming and top-of-the-line.
Inside, the kitchen was alive with motion. Staff were already hard at work — chefs, assistants, each at their stations. Kang raised his voice slightly and introduced him:"This is Ji-Ho. He'll be working as an assistant chef starting tomorrow. Treat him well."
Ji-Ho gave a respectful bow and a warm smile,"Annyeonghaseyo.(hello) It's a pleasure to work with you."
The response? A few silent nods… some didn't even look his way.
One of the senior staff — Head Assistant Chef Park Jae-Min — muttered with a smirk,"Hmm… another village boy. Let's see how long he lasts."
From the other side, a sous-chef named Min-Ah said coldly:"Hope he knows this isn't some countryside kitchen."
"In this place, innocence won't get you far. Just work — fast."
Ji-Ho blinked, slightly confused. Still, he replied gently,"I'll do my best. Please guide me if I make any mistakes."
But no one really looked at him. The staff's energy was cold, robotic — even borderline rude.
Mr. Kang, however, remained unaffected. This was probably just normal to him — the expected culture here. Calmly, he said,"Come on, I'll show you where you'll be staying."
He led Ji-Ho to a separate building just a few blocks away from the hotel — a residential staff complex where chefs, cleaners, and other hotel employees lived. It looked like a hostel, but it was extremely clean and well-organized. The rooms were shared.
They stopped outside one of the doors."This is your room," Kang said. "You'll be staying with the head chef you'll be assisting — his name is Lee Dong-Hun. He'll return by tomorrow afternoon. You'll start working under him from then."
He handed Ji-Ho a uniform, a schedule, and a set of locker keys."Kitchen timings are strict. 10 AM to 8 PM. You'll have a two-hour break. Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be tough."
Ji-Ho nodded and quietly thanked him — but his heart felt heavier now.
It was his first day — and the exhaustion from the journey was still weighing on him. And now, the staff's cold welcome…"I thought people in a city this beautiful would speak beautifully too…" he thought, disappointed."But here, even talking nicely doesn't seem like a basic thing. No one even wants to talk."
His first interaction with them had felt… strange. Empty.
Once alone in the room, the first thing he did was take a deep breath, head straight to the washroom, take a shower, and quietly eat the light dinner the hostel kitchen had provided.
Then, lying down on the unfamiliar bed, he pulled out his phone. He wanted to call home… say something.But the words just wouldn't come. Only one line kept echoing in his mind:"In my village, everyone spoke with kindness… why is everyone here so cold?"
"Even though I spoke to them with respect… even kindly…"
Staring up at the ceiling, memories of Hadong began to flicker behind his eyes.
He slowly closed them and drifted off to sleep — but deep inside, something had begun to stir.Tomorrow could change everything.Or it could break him.Only time would tell.
It was past midnight.The entire residential block was wrapped in silence. A lone hallway bulb flickered softly, casting faint shadows on the walls.
The door to Room 207 creaked open slowly.A tall, mature-looking young man stepped inside — dressed in a sleek tracksuit, handsome but clearly exhausted.Chef Lee Dong-Hun.The head chef.The one Ji-Ho had been assigned to assist.
He placed his bag on the side table, then noticed the corner bed.A boy lay curled up in a deep sleep, clutching his pillow tightly — like he was holding on to the last fragments of peace after a long, draining day.His face was soft… innocent.
"So this is Ji-Ho," Dong-Hun murmured."Looks naïve. Let's see how long he lasts here."
He pulled out his phone. A notification blinked on the lock screen:
Message from Hotel Management:"New assistant assigned to you. Name: Han Ji-Ho. Specialty: Traditional Korean Village Cuisine. Treat him as trainee. Detailed SOP attached."
Another message popped up — from Park Jae-Min, the head kitchen assistant:
"Another village boy just landed. Let's see how long before he breaks. If he gets too emotional, we'll have him doing dishes by tomorrow."
Dong-Hun let out a faintly sarcastic smile.Without replying, he placed the phone aside, took out his clothes, slipped into the shower, and then quietly went to bed.
The next morning.Sunlight peeked through the gap between the curtains, slowly brightening the room.
Ji-Ho stirred awake, his eyes blinking open.His back still ached from the long trip — but at least he'd slept. Or at least, he told himself he had.
Then he noticed the figure sitting on the other bed.A young man, calmly drying his hair with a towel. Composed. Quiet. Almost distant.Not a single attempt at eye contact.
"Good morning," Ji-Ho said with a gentle smile.
Dong-Hun simply gave a small nod."Get ready. We have to be in the kitchen in twenty minutes."
His tone carried no warmth, no malice — just that flat, indifferent chill that cities like Seoul were known for.The kind that makes you wonder if people here have forgotten how to smile.