Heidi Kim

If I thought working with Vina before was insufferable, things had only gotten worse. Ever since Mr. Laurent announced that we needed a new signature dish, the pressure had mounted on both of us.

‘I’ve decided to challenge you two to create a new signature dish for the restaurant. People are getting bored with the old dishes and want something new. I will be holding a competition here at the restaurant where you two will compete. Whoever wins this will be the next head chef. I’ll give six months to prepare. Good luck and may the best chef win.’

I didn’t want my position as head chef to be a waste. I must win the challenge, and no matter what it takes, I must remain at the top. While I was working tirelessly to perfect my creation, Vina seemed to be treating this like some kind of game.

“Heidi, you look like you’re about to burst,” Vina teased as she leaned against the counter beside me. “You do know the kitchen won’t explode if you take a break, right?”

I ignored her, my hands moving swiftly as I carefully sliced through a fresh cut of salmon. “I don’t have time for your jokes, Rossi. Some of us actually take this seriously.”

She clicked her tongue, clearly unimpressed by my cold shoulder. “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you’re not having the tiniest bit of fun.”

I shot her a glare. “You think this is fun? I’m not here to play, Vina. I worked my ass off to build my reputation. I’m not about to let some spoiled, rich chef’s daughter take that away.”

Vina’s smirk faltered. For a second, I thought she was actually offended, but then she rolled her eyes and snatched a clean cutting board. “You know, I could take offense to what you said, but honestly? You’re kind of adorable when you’re mad.”

My knife slipped, barely missing my finger. I inhaled sharply. “Would you stop that?”

“Stop what?” She grinned. “Existing? Sorry, can’t do that.”

I exhaled through my nose, trying to suppress the overwhelming frustration boiling inside me. “I swear, Vina, I don’t know how you’ve survived this long in the culinary world without getting punched.”

She waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, I’ve had my fair share of kitchen fights. Some say it builds character.”

“Some say it builds broken noses,” I muttered under my breath.

She let out a loud laugh, which, unfortunately, caught the attention of the rest of the kitchen staff. I could feel their curious gazes flickering between us, but I refused to entertain whatever ridiculous idea was forming in their minds.

“Alright, alright,” Vina finally said, holding up her hands in surrender. “I’ll be good. For now.”

I sighed in relief as she backed off, returning to her own station. But even with her on the other side of the kitchen, I could still feel her presence. And worse? I could still hear the customers whispering about her.

“Chef Vina’s food is incredible!”

“She’s so charming. I bet she’s the future of Flavium.”

I gritted my teeth. Future of Flavium? Over my dead body.

That night, I stayed late in the kitchen, trying to come up with what dish I should create as the new signature dish. I refused to let Vina win. This contest wasn’t just about the new signature dish; it was about proving that I was still the head chef and that I deserved to be the face of this restaurant.

But no matter how many times I adjusted my flavors, something was missing. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration, staring down at the plated dish in front of me. It was good. It was balanced. But it wasn’t perfect.

“You’re overthinking it.”

I jumped, nearly knocking over my plate. “Damn it, Vina! Would you stop sneaking up on me?!”

She chuckled, leaning against the doorway. “What? It’s not my fault you’re so lost in your own world.”

I scowled. “What do you want now?”

“You’ve been here for hours. Thought you could use some fresh eyes.”

I wanted to tell her to leave. That I didn’t need her input. But a small part of me hesitated. Vina was annoying as hell, but I couldn’t deny that she had an impeccable palate. If anyone could point out what was wrong, it was her.

I crossed my arms. “Fine. Taste this.”

She raised an eyebrow but stepped forward, picking up a fork. I watched as she took a careful bite, chewing slowly, and thoughtfully. The anticipation made my stomach twist.

Finally, she swallowed and looked at me. “It’s good. But it’s missing something.”

I threw up my hands. “No shit. That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

She hummed, tapping a finger against her chin. “It’s too safe. You’re playing by the recipe, but sometimes, the best dishes come from experimenting with them.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So what, you’re saying I should just throw caution to the wind?”

She smirked. “I’m saying, maybe stop trying to be perfect and start trying to be bold.”

I hated that she made sense. I hated that she saw right through me. But most of all, I hated that some part of me actually respected her for it.

Vina set down the fork and stretched. “Alright, Chef. I’ll leave you to your creative genius. Try not to overwork yourself.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I stared down at my dish once more, her words reverberating in my mind. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to stop chasing perfection and start trusting my instincts in the kitchen.