SUGAR KISS [YEONBIN] ✓

twenty-four

The kitchen is buzzing with energy.

Even Yeonjun, unaffected, above everything Yeonjun, is bouncing on his heels.

We’re all waiting for the shoe to drop, because we all know. This is the day we get split up. We stand on our own merit.

The judges walk in a few minutes late and I bet it’s on purpose. Maybe just because I’m looking for something to resent, searching for a place to direct my anxiety. But they walk slow, they sit slow, they smile slow.

Dr. Kim stands and says, “The final six.”

We all look at each other, just these nervous glances that are trying to bely confidence. Trying to posture, scare someone into making a mistake. I don’t think I look particularly scary. No one really looks that scary.

Except, weirdly, Taehyun.

But it’s because he’s not trying to freak anyone out. He’s the only one of us who is just standing there, hands in his pockets, blinking straight ahead at the judges. He looks relaxed. He looks like he is as comfortable in this kitchen as he is at home. He looks like she is calculating.

Here I am, shaking in my shoes over Taehyun; what a thing.

Dr. Park says, “You should all be very proud of yourselves for making it this far. You are here because we have seen talent, promise, and technical excellence, in one way or another, from each of you. Of course, each of you is guaranteed admission to the school, as is everyone who has come through the program this summer. But scholarships are reserved for the top four. The amounts, apart from that of the winner, are to be determined. At this point in the competition, all teams are to be dissolved.”

A little exhalation from everyone even though we all knew this was coming; it was a matter of time.

“The other change today is the matter of judging. Henceforth, there will be no elimination ceremony. After today’s round in the kitchen, you will be evaluated, leave the room while we deliberate, and return to be judged immediately. One of you will be heading home today.”

I swallow hard. I don’t know why that’s so much worse, but the stakes feel about eight hundred times higher, and no one’s even started cooking yet, but I feel like every single oven and stovetop in this room is on.

I’m sweating; I think I’m sweating.

Dr. Park says, “You will have three and a half hours.”

I glance over at Yeomjun, and he looks down at me. Three and a half hours is like, astonishingly long for one of these things.

“You will all be making the same dish.”

Ah, shit. This is never good.

“Beef Wellington.”

Shiiiiiiiiiiit.

Now even Taehyun looks nervous. Beef Wellington is cousin to baked Alaska on the impossible-to-master scale. If one of us had chosen it on our own, we could get points for ambition even if it wasn’t perfect, but we all have to do it. Which means each piece of meat will be directly compared to everyone else’s and shit shit shit.

“You are welcome, and expected, to choose your own side dishes, of course, but the Wellington is non-negotiable.”

I tap my fingers at my sides. Fine, this is fine, this is fine. I can hold my own without help. And I will.

“Begin,” he says with no fanfare.

Every one of us makes a rush for the meat locker, and we come back as a stampede armed with beef tenderloin. Taehyun is ambitious and going to make him own liver paté, because of course he is, and it looks like Yeonjun may be going that way, too. I’m modifying the pre-made stuff because priorities. I don’t know what Beomgyu or Jaehyun or Juri are doing but it doesn’t matter. Looks like they’re making Duxelles, which is a simple replacement. But I don’t need to focus on anyone else. It’s about the meat and the mushroom, and I’ll be making my own puff pastry to blanket the thing, thank you very much.