Ji Hoon bowed politely before stepping away from the judges' table. On his way back to his station, he allowed himself the smallest of smirks toward the big guy, whose jaw tightened in anger. Yet, with the judges still watching, the man could do nothing but swallow his pride.
Once the judging was over, an attendant ushered them out. The three boys removed their aprons in defeat, while Ji Hoon, Helene, and the big guy still wore theirs proudly—the mark of passing.
Outside the chamber, the atmosphere had shifted. What once had been a bustling hall with over seventy contestants now felt hollow. Most had already left in silence.
Ji Hoon quickly counted. From Groups 51 to 56, only five people stood there: himself, Helene, the big guy, a young man about his own age, and a woman with her hair tied neatly in a ponytail. Everyone else had failed.
Six people, he realized—including the purple-haired boy who had passed earlier from group 45 to 50 in their hall, though he was nowhere to be seen now.
He noticed the ponytailed woman approach Helene, greeting her warmly.
'Are they friends? Could she be from the palace kitchen too?' Ji Hoon wondered, studying them a little too intently. Helene caught his gaze, and he quickly spun around, face heating. 'Damn it, why was I staring…?!'
Before long, an attendant approached the remaining five. "Please head to the staff desks. They will finalize your registration."
At the desks, Ji Hoon handed over his stamped slip and key tag. The clerk marked something in the ledger before handing him a new slip—this one clearly marked with a pass. Along with it came a certificate, its lettering still unreadable to him, and a rectangular box that left him puzzled.
"Excuse me… what is this?" Ji Hoon asked politely.
The clerk gave him a look as if he had asked the most obvious question. "It's the Imperial Culinary Certification, proof that you are recognized by the Ministry of Food. The box contains your uniform."
"The certificate?" Ji Hoon frowned. "Wasn't I supposed to get it after the entire competition?"
"No, sir," she explained patiently. "The preliminary round is the certification round. The following stages are for prestige—cooking at the royal palace, prize money, and honor. Of course, should you wish to use your certification to open a business, you will need a secondary examination, but this proves you are already recognized as capable."
Ji Hoon's thoughts churned. 'So, I don't even need to win the rest to have what I came for… I only wanted the certification. As for money… well, I'm from a noble family, aren't I?'
He bowed in thanks, tucked the certificate and box under his arm, and made his way toward the exit.
Waiting outside was a familiar figure—Lior, smiling and waving eagerly.
"Noble cook! So, you passed, right?"
Ji Hoon returned the smile. "From your mood, it seems you passed too?"
"Of course!" Lior grinned brightly. "I really can't wait to face you in the coming rounds."
They spoke a little longer before parting ways, Lior leaving with a cheerful wave. Ji Hoon stepped outside and spotted the carriage waiting at the gates. Haide stood there, as dependable as ever, bowing slightly when Ji Hoon approached.
"Young Master, how was it?" Haide asked, searching his face.
Ji Hoon gave a calm smile. "I passed."
Haide blinked. "…You… you what? Passed? Truly?" His eyes went wide in disbelief before breaking into a rare, genuine grin.
"By the heavens, really?! Congratulations, Young Master!"
Ji Hoon chuckled lightly at the man's excitement. Haide quickly came, steadying Ji Hoon as he helped him into the carriage with a proud look.
As the wheels began to roll toward the Ahn estate, Ji Hoon leaned back against the cushioned seat, exhaling for the first time that day.
Ji Hoon let out a long sigh, his head leaning against the carriage wall as he gazed down at the box and certificate resting on his lap. The whole reason he had entered was to obtain that certification—but now that it was in his hands, he didn't know whether to stop here or continue all the way.
'Do I need to continue it...? The prize money… the capital I'll need for a bakery…' His thoughts circled restlessly. 'Should I rent a place or try to buy one outright? Then there's the furniture, the utensils, the staff… and most importantly, the cost of ingredients.'
He knew the first weeks of business would likely run at a loss—just like any business. The idea of relying on his family's assets felt wrong, even though he was sure his mother would gladly help him without question.
But after what Beatrice had told him—how Lady Ahn was struggling to uphold the family's pride and keep the house of Ahn's business from sliding into bankruptcy—he couldn't bring himself to take a handout.
Ji Hoon shook his head, forcing the thoughts aside. 'Later. I'll think about it later.'
His eyes fell on the box again. The clerk had said it contained his uniform, and curiosity tugged at him. With careful fingers, he lifted the lid.
"…Wow."
He froze. 'So, this is why they took the apron's back...?' Then after he lingered over it for a moment, then gently set it back into the box. A tired smile touched his lips.
The carriage swayed gently, the faint clip-clop of the horses' steady against the cobblestones. He closed his eyes.
Four hours at the Ministry—two waiting, two competing—had drained him more than he realized. The judges' stern gazes, the tension in the air, the careful timing of every step… it all weighed on him now.
'To think they even managed to evaluate this many contestants in the first place… if they were in the hundreds, how many rooms were running at once? How many judges?' He exhaled softly, the thoughts fading as his eyelids grew heavy.
Before he realized it, his breathing slowed, and the gentle rhythm of the carriage lulled him into a deep nap, the box with his new uniform still resting against his chest.
After a while, the carriage slowed, then came to a halt before the Ahn family's manor. The shift in motion was enough to stir Ji Hoon awake—he had always been a light sleeper.
From outside, Haide's voice called gently, "Young master, we've arrived."
Ji Hoon stepped down from the carriage, stretching once before turning to thank Haide. The driver gave him a warm nod, clearly proud, before settling back the carriage into the back of the manor.
Ji Hoon started toward the manor entrance, but before he could make it far, he saw Beatrice rushing toward him, her footsteps hurried and breath uneven.
She wasn't alone—behind her was Ione, who, as usual, avoided meeting his gaze.
Beatrice stopped in front of him, clutching her chest as she tried to steady her voice.
"Young…! Master…! Madam Ashdown is here!" she managed, still catching her breath.
Ji Hoon froze. His eyes narrowed, the faint weariness of travel fading into sharp focus. That name stirred something heavy inside him—the buried memories of Cassian, and everything that came with the name Madam Ashdown.
'So… she's finally here...?'
* * * * *
At de Clein Manor…
Roswald de Clein sat in his office, framed by shelves of leather-bound ledgers and a wide window spilling in pale daylight. His eyes scanned a stack of documents with cool precision, while across the desk, his aide Light stood stiffly, a bundle of reports in hand.
"Sir," Light began, "we have this month's income from our restaurants and bakeries across the capital. Compared to last month, there has been a rise of fifty-eight gold coins. From the branches outside the capital, only a twenty-four coin increase."
Roswald lowered the papers, his cold eyes lifting to his aide. The silence stretched long enough for Light to stiffen further.
"Why are the outside branches weaker than usual?" Roswald asked quietly, his voice sharp enough to sting.
"As you know, my lord, those locations don't have consistent access to premium ingredients, since the roads leading to and from the suppliers are being held by monsters a lot these days.
Our supplier's and even many merchants are struggling with the roads leading in, making deliveries irregular."
Roswald tapped the desk, his lips curling faintly. "Then we tighten the leash. I don't care if they're outside the capital—if they fly our name, they must meet our standards."
"Send more adventurers and mercenaries to protect the goods, along with trainers, rework their supply chains, and enforce exclusivity contracts. If they can't rise to our level even after that, we'll replace them with those who can."
"Yes, my lord." Light bowed his head, scribbling notes quickly.
"Enough about that," Roswald said, removing his glasses and setting them aside with care. "What about our interns who entered the ICC? Did they pass?"
"Yes, sir. According to our sources, three hundred and thirty-six contestants were accepted this year. Of them, only thirty-two passed—including our three interns."
"So few?" Roswald's brows twitched.
"Yes, my lord. The ministry seems to have set stricter standards this year."
Roswald exhaled through his nose, leaning back in his chair. "Stricter? No… the problem is that most cooks simply lack talent. Still, that means Cassian Ahn must have been eliminated, doesn't it? A pity—I was curious to see what scraps he might throw together." His words carried the weight of mockery, but his tone was almost bored.
Light hesitated. "…Actually, sir… that's not the case."
Roswald's eyes flicked to him, the air in the room cooling instantly. "What do you mean?"
"According to the reports I acquired, Mister Ahn was among the thirty-two who passed."
The silence grew heavy. Roswald's hand stilled on the armrest. Slowly, he leaned forward, his smile gone.
"Cassian… passed?" His tone was mild, almost amused—but his knuckles whitened as he clasped his hands together. A faint line showed at his temple, betraying the irritation beneath his elegance.
"Interesting. Either the rest of contestants were so ridiculous that they let just anyone pass to fill the gaps… or the boy has hidden talent that I don't know of."
Light swallowed hard, the tension in the office palpable.
Before Roswald could dwell further, a knock echoed against the door.
~Knock-knock~
"Enter," he said, his composure flawless once more.
The door opened, and a servant boy stepped in, bowing deeply.
"My lord, Lady Vale has arrived to see you."
Roswald's expression shifted—his lips curving into a smile once again.
"Very well," he said smoothly, adjusting his cuffs. "Send her in."