When the room finally fell silent and only the king and Minsoo remained, an unexpected disturbance rose from outside the chamber doors.
Miya had arrived.
Standing tall in the corridor, dressed in elegance befitting her status, she demanded that the court lady announce her presence to the king.
However, the court lady bowed respectfully and refused.
"His Majesty is in an important meeting," she said calmly. "He is not to be disturbed."
The refusal struck Miya like an insult.
Her pride wounded, anger quickly followed. Her voice rose in protest, drawing the attention of nearby attendants. The quiet corridor filled with tension and whispers until the noise reached inside the chamber.
From within, the king's cold voice sounded:
"What is happening outside?"
Seizing the moment, Miya stepped forward and spoke loudly enough for him to hear.
"Your Majesty, it is I—Miya. I came to see you, yet the court lady refuses to announce me."
A brief silence followed.
Then the king answered, his tone distant and firm.
"I am occupied and will not entertain visitors. Return to your chambers and wait until I summon you."
The words fell like a blade.
Miya's heart skipped painfully, disbelief flashing across her face.
He refuses to see me… because of a mere chef?
Humiliation burned beneath her skin, but she could not protest further. With stiff dignity, she turned and left, though the storm in her eyes promised that this matter was far from over.
⸻
Inside the chamber, Minsoo had heard everything.
Unease filled her chest. She suddenly felt like an intruder where she did not belong.
"Your Majesty… perhaps I should leave," she said softly. "I do not wish to cause inconvenience."
She began to rise from her seat, but before she could step away, the king reached out and caught her wrist.
The touch was gentle, yet firm enough to stop her.
"Stay," he said quietly. "Sit and watch me eat."
Surprised, Minsoo slowly lowered herself back into her seat. She obeyed without another word, though her heartbeat refused to calm.
The king continued his meal as if nothing had happened, yet an unspoken tension lingered in the air between them.
⸻
When the meal ended, Minsoo bowed respectfully and returned to the palace kitchen.
There, she found Miso waiting anxiously.
Unable to hold back, Minsoo recounted everything—the disturbance, the king's refusal to see Miya, and the strange moment when he held her hand and asked her to remain.
Miso listened with wide eyes, sensing that something far deeper than a simple meal was unfolding within the palace walls.
⸻
Elsewhere, Miya stormed into her chambers, fury consuming every calm thought.
Humiliation twisted into hatred.
Hatred slowly shaped itself into a plan.
Without hesitation, she ordered her attendant to prepare a horse. She would leave the palace at once to visit the one person whose authority could challenge even the king—
the Queen Dowager.
The king had no parents left.
His father was long dead.
His mother… had been executed under royal command after being falsely accused of a crime she never committed.
The king had watched her die with his own eyes.
That moment had carved an unhealed wound into his soul.
Only his grandmother remained as family.
And though she knew the truth of the past—though the elders also knew—
they had buried it in silence, choosing peace over justice.
But Miya intended to awaken something far more dangerous than truth.
⸻
When she arrived at the Queen Dowager's palace, she found the elderly ruler seated among noblewomen, surrounded by quiet dignity.
Miya bowed gracefully, greeting them with practiced respect before taking her seat.
Then, like poison poured into clear water, she began to speak.
She accused Minsoo of being a witch.
She claimed Minsoo had bewitched the king.
She insisted the girl could not truly cook and was deceiving the throne through dark tricks.
Each word deepened the Queen Dowager's frown.
By the time Miya finished, anger had fully awakened.
"Then we shall test her," the Queen Dowager declared coldly.
A grand cooking competition would be held.
All the palace's head chefs would compete against Minsoo.
And the punishment for failure…
would be the loss of a hand.
Miya lowered her head to hide the cruel smile forming on her lips.
⸻
When the decree reached the kitchen, Minsoo collapsed into tears.
Fear overwhelmed her strength. Her hands trembled uncontrollably.
But Miso held her shoulders gently.
"You are a great chef," she whispered. "Trust yourself. You can do this."
Those simple words became the fragile courage Minsoo needed to stand again.
⸻
The other chefs, however, felt no sympathy.
They despised her.
When the time came to gather ingredients from the market, they arrived early and took everything, leaving nothing behind for her.
Standing before the empty stalls, Minsoo's final hope shattered.
Tears blurred her vision.
That was when an old palace servant approached quietly.
Moved by compassion, he guided her toward the hidden palace garden where rare herbs and vegetables still grew.
As they walked, he revealed a secret:
The Queen Dowager had stopped eating a certain dish long ago—
because it was the final meal her daughter had cooked before her death.
He told Minsoo the dish's name.
He told her the recipe.
Gratitude filled her heart like light after darkness.
Clutching the ingredients, she hurried toward the competition grounds.
⸻
The arena was already filled when the king arrived.
Silence swept across the crowd as everyone bowed.
He walked directly to the Queen Dowager, eyes cold with restrained anger.
"How dare you arrange a competition for my personal chef without informing me?"
The Queen Dowager met his gaze without fear.
"If your faith in her is true, then let me taste her food.
If she has deceived you… her hands will be cut off."
A dangerous smile touched the king's lips.
He stepped forward and addressed the entire court.
"Anyone who fails this competition," he declared, voice echoing across the grounds,
"will have both hands removed.
This is my final verdict.
Let the competition begin."
Terror crashed through Minsoo's body.
Her strength nearly abandoned her.
Her mind trembled on the edge of collapse.
Then suddenly—
The Queen Dowager rose to her feet.
"My king—"
⸻