“His Majesty, the King arrives....”

As the voice of the Chief Eunuch [常膳 (Sangseon) : the head of the Royal Secretariat] rang out long and clear, the civil and military officials gathered in Geunjeongjeon all bowed their heads in unison.

[TL/N : 근정전 (Geunjeongjeon) - the main throne hall of Gyeongbokgung Palace in Seoul, South Korea, and historically served as the central hall where the king conducted state affairs, held official ceremonies, and met with officials.]

In the dead silence of that grand hall, a man strode confidently toward the dragon throne, which stood at the highest and most central point of the space.

He wore a crimson robe, embroidered with golden dragons which casually draped over his shoulders.

It was clear that this man was the very center of not just this hall, but the entire nation.

All attention from the high officials, dressed in their ceremonial court attire, was fixed on him, waiting to hear what command would fall from his lips.

It was said that with just a single word from him, the course of the nation could change entirely.

And that wasn’t even the half of it.

At any moment, one of the people here might lose their head.

Only after a long, tense silence, like sitting on a bed of thorns, did the man’s voice finally ring out in a low tone.

“….How astonishing.”

Those were the first words of the man seated casually upon the jade throne.

“Soft, yet sweet. Spicy, yet tingling. Fizzy, yet sour. Subtly fishy, yet refreshing… A sensation filled with every harmony and contradiction imaginable…”

With all heads bowed low, no one could see his expression. The only thing they had to go on was his voice, sensual and impassioned, like that of a young poet reciting a verse.

“And so, I have made my decision.”

— Srrring—

The cold, steely sound of a sword being drawn echoed through the throne hall.

It was said that the man had a habit of drawing his own blade at moments of great importance.

The man in the crimson, dragon- embroidered robe strode forward with purposeful steps with a gleaming blade flashing in his grip. 

Where his footsteps halted was before a woman crouched like a solitary island in the vast, desolate expanse of the palace’s stone floor. 

"By my command, this woman shall..." 

The woman clenched her eyes shut as she sensed the cold glint of steel reflecting off the ground. 

'Was this how she would die?'

But then...

"...be appointed as the Daeryeong Sooksu (대령숙수 - Master Chef of the Royal Kitchen)."

An unexpected title rang out. 

'Daeryeong Sooksu?'

'The highest-ranking royal chef, tasked solely with preparing meals for the king?'

A ripple of murmurs spread through the assembled court officials at the man’s abrupt decree. Unfazed, he continued.

"From this day forth, you shall cook for me without fail, every single day. However!" 

"…"

"Should you dare serve the same dish even once, you will face the severest punishment. Mark my words."

Suddenly, the woman's head began to spin dizzily. 

This unfamiliar place, this ridiculous situation, and this man clad in crimson, dragon-embroidered robe standing before her with a drawn sword...

'Just where the hell had everything gone wrong?'

Had it all started that day...which had now become a distant memory, though barely a few days past? 

~~~~~

Miel's Translations