Heidi Kim

The gleaming stainless-steel counters of Flavium’s kitchen reflected the bright overhead lights, each surface spotless and orderly. I stood at the heart of it all, orchestrating the chaos with precision.

“More zest, less juice,” I instructed sharply, my eyes fixed on the sous chef struggling with the lemon. “We’re looking for brightness, not acidity.”

“Yes, Chef!” they replied, hastily adjusting their technique.

My sharp gaze swept the kitchen. Every corner of Flavium’s back-of-house reflected my philosophy: perfection in every detail. Nothing escaped my scrutiny, from the freshly sharpened knives to the precisely labeled spice jars. As the head chef of Flavium, I was determined to keep everything perfect and delicious, no matter how busy the kitchen got. As a rookie chef, there was no room for error.

Although Flavium has a Michelin star, I am not a Michelin-star chef. In fact, I only got into Flavium because I won the prestigious cooking competition, ‘Culinary Virtuoso’, seven years ago. It was a well-known competition in which chefs and cooks from all over the world would try to win this competition. Chefs who have experience, who went to culinary school, and even Michelin-star chefs were my opponents. Me? I was just some cook in a diner.

I didn’t even know how I got into the competition. Was it the food I made? My background? All I remember was that someone from the diner approached me and said I must join. I thought he was just scamming me, but it was a legitimate competition. I hesitated at first because I didn't even have a background in culinary, let alone finished my education. I just cook for myself. When I auditioned for the competition, I was being eyed by prestigious chefs. They must’ve thought, ‘Why is a non-chef competing here?’ But it wasn’t mentioned in the rules of the competition that you needed to be a chef to compete; you just knew how to cook. When they announced that I was qualified to compete and gave me the apron, I was thrilled and excited. It gave me the courage to do my best. I didn’t even care if I won or lost; I was just happy that my passion for cooking was slowly getting recognized.

It was a tough competition. I was competing with chefs with culinary backgrounds, chefs who I assumed had Michelin stars, even the ones who had years of practice. I was the only non-chef competing, but that didn't stop me from doing my best in the competition. When I surprisingly won, I knew I had already achieved so much as someone who didn’t go to any school for cooking.

Being called the ‘rookie chef’ and the first female chef who won the competition, I got invited to a lot of talk shows and interviews to share my experience. My face was all over the news, that I almost didn’t want to come out of my house before. All that fame and recognition brought me here to Flavium, who recruited me as a sous chef five years ago. Flavium gave me the opportunity to build myself as a chef. I met fellow chefs who strive for the same passion as me. Customers who come all the way to taste my dish, and even fans who saw me improve and become a better chef. Flavium became my second home, my sanctuary, where I built my name as the head chef for three years. It’s been a whirlwind journey, one that still feels surreal at times. But even now, standing at the helm of Flavium’s kitchen, I sometimes wonder… did I really achieve being a chef?

After a long day in the kitchen, I wiped my hands on my apron and exhaled deeply. Another successful dinner service, another round of satisfied customers, another day of trying to keep Flavium at the top of the culinary world. The kitchen smelled like seared butter, truffle oil, and the faint lingering scent of rosemary. It was perfect.

“Chef Heidi, table twelve asked to personally thank you for their meal tonight,” one of the servers, Emily, said, approaching me with a smile.

I forced a smile back. I had nothing against customers showing appreciation, I was grateful, really, but I never really cared for the whole ‘being in the spotlight’ thing but I guess that’s what you gain for winning a cooking competition, all the attention and recognition. Cooking has always been something I prioritize, not the fame and applause that came with it.

I gave Emily a nod, removing my apron as I made my way to the dining hall. As I approached the table, an elderly couple beamed at me.

“Young lady, that was one of the finest meals we've ever had,” the woman said, clasping her hands together. “The scallop and risotto melted in my mouth.” Of course she liked it, who wouldn’t? She ate my signature dish, Seared Scallops with Kimchi Risotto and Gochujang Glaze. This dish represents who I am as a chef and as a Korean. Those ingredients were familiar to me, and turning them gourmet wasn’t easy. I perfected the recipe ever since, and it became the talk of the town which everyone was dying to taste.

 “Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate your kind words.” I smiled, genuinely this time.

“Are you really just twenty-eight?” the man asked, eyeing me in disbelief. “To have talent like this at such a young age is remarkable.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. I started cooking when I was nine, so I’ve had plenty of practice.”

We exchanged a few more pleasantries before I excused myself, heading back into the kitchen where my world made sense. Cooking was easy, but it had to be precise. Ingredients must be followed with a recipe, flavors shouldn’t be predicted, and techniques must be mastered. People, on the other hand? They were unpredictable.

“Chef, we need to restock the fresh basil,” one of the line cooks, Damien, called out. “We went through more than usual tonight.”

I made a mental note to tell the supplier first thing in the morning. “Got it. Anything else?”

“No, everything else is under control,” he replied. Good. That’s how I liked things; everything was under control. No mishaps and no unpleasant surprises. But, of course, life always had a way of throwing the unexpected at me.

The next morning, I arrived early at Flavium, as I always did. I liked having the kitchen to myself before the chaos of the day began. There was something calming about the quiet hum of the refrigerators, the gleaming countertops untouched by the rush of service. he quiet was a luxury, a brief window of peace before the symphony of clanging pots and sizzling pans took over.

I savored the stillness, the way the stainless-steel surfaces reflected the soft morning light, the faint, clean scent of the day's fresh ingredients already waiting. I took a slow, deep breath, letting the anticipation of the day's creations settle within me. It was a ritual, this moment of quiet contemplation, a way to center myself before the storm. That peace, however, was about to be abruptly disturbed.

I was reviewing the inventory list when I heard the sound of heels clicking against the tile floor. I frowned. No one else should be here this early.

Then, I saw her.

She walked into the kitchen like she owned the place, her long brown hair tied in a sleek ponytail, her chef’s coat crisp and spotless. There was an air of confidence about her, a sort of effortless elegance that made people stop and stare. And the worst part? I knew exactly who she was.

I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on the clipboard.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice calm but firm.

She tilted her head, amused. “Is that how you greet your new sous chef?” My stomach dropped. My sous chef?

“Excuse me? You’re joking, right? There’s no way in hell you are working here.”

She smirked. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

I felt a rush of emotions, anger, confusion, and disbelief. Of all the chefs in the world, why did the owner have to hire her? Speaking of the owner, Mr. Manny Laurent entered the kitchen with documents in his hands.

“Ah, Ms. Kim, I see you’ve met your new sous chef, Ms. Vina Rossi.”

I stiffened at Mr. Laurent’s words. “Uhm, I’m sorry, Mr. Laurent, but there appears to be a mistake here,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I wasn’t informed about her joining us, let alone being my new sous chef.”

She crossed her arms, a smirk playing on her lips. “Really? Well, I was.” Her tone was casual, but her eyes held that familiar glint of challenge. “And I think whether you like it or not, we’ll be working together.” Working together? More like a nightmare.

“Ms. Rossi mentioned she knows you from the cooking competition, so I thought you’re familiar with her,” Mr. Laurent added.

Oh, I knew her, alright. Vina Rossi, my biggest rival. The one I defeated in Culinary Virtuoso. She is the daughter of a well-known Italian chef, so it was easy for her to be qualified. She had been an incredible opponent, an exceptional chef. She made the most exquisite dishes throughout the competition; it was hard to be on her level. Beating her had been my greatest victory, but now, standing here in my kitchen, acting like she belonged, made my blood boil.

I squared my shoulders. “I don’t need a sous chef,” I said coolly. “I am capable of running my kitchen just fine.”

Vina chuckled softly, tilting her head. “Oh, I’m sure you do. But that’s not your decision to make, is it?” I gritted my teeth. I hated that she was right.

“Is there a problem with you working with Ms. Rossi, Ms. Kim?” Mr. Laurent asked, his tone unreadable. I hesitated. The entire staff was watching. If I pushed back too hard, it would make me look insecure, weak.

“N-no, Mr. Laurent.”

“Good. Then I trust you’ll treat Ms. Rossi well. Everyone, be on your station, we’ll be opening soon.” Just like that, it was final. Whether I liked it or not, Vina Rossi was my new sous chef. Great, just great.

She turned to me with an infuriating grin. “I guess this is the start of a new kitchen journey, am I right, Ms. Kim?”

I took a slow, measured breath. “You may be my new sous chef, but let's make things clear: I don’t want any mistakes happening in this kitchen, especially from you. As your head chef, you do everything I ask you to do, no exceptions, and no excuses. And one more thing—stay out of my way.”

Vina shrugged, completely unfazed. “We’ll see.”

And just like that, my perfectly balanced world started to crack. To make matters worse, the staff was already whispering. I could hear them talking amongst themselves, excitedly murmuring about how amazing it was that Vina Rossi was now part of Flavium.

“Oh my god, she’s even more stunning in person.”

“Do you think she’ll change the menu?”

“Imagine her and Chef Heidi working together—Flavium’s going to be unstoppable!”

I wanted to scream.

This was my kitchen. My domain.

And now, it was being invaded by the one person I swore I’d never want to work with.