The king summoned his uncle to his private chambers without hesitation. The atmosphere in the room was tense, thick with unspoken suspicion. Tall candles flickered against the stone walls, casting restless shadows that seemed to mirror the king's troubled thoughts. When his uncle entered, he immediately sensed that something was terribly wrong.
The king stood near the center of the room, his expression cold and unreadable.
"Do you truly not know," the king began, his voice controlled but firm, "that the ingredients you threw away belonged to the Joseon team?"
The uncle's knees weakened instantly. He fell to the floor, bowing deeply. "Yes, my king. I am deeply sorry. I made a grievous mistake."
The king's eyes narrowed. "A mistake?" he repeated slowly. "Or did you purposely give them out?"
"My king!" the uncle cried dramatically, lifting his head slightly before lowering it again. "Please forgive me. I never knew the ingredients were special. I thought they were ordinary supplies. I would never dare sabotage a royal competition."
The king stepped closer, his robe brushing the polished floor. "Where did you drop the remaining bags you claimed you threw out?"
The uncle hesitated for a brief second before replying, "I kept them in the storage house, Your Majesty. I did not completely dispose of them."
The king's jaw tightened. "Go with the palace guards at once. Bring out every single bag and return them to the palace kitchen immediately."
"Punish me, Your Majesty," the uncle said, pretending to sob. "I deserve every punishment you wish to give."
"Quiet!" the king thundered, his voice echoing through the chamber. "I gave you an order. Go with the guards and retrieve the remaining bags of chili pepper."
"Yes, my lord," the uncle replied, feigning fear as he rose unsteadily to his feet.
Moments later, he led a group of palace guards to the storage building. The wooden door was tightly locked. At the king's instruction, the guards forced it open. Inside, stacked neatly against the wall, were the remaining bags of chili pepper, untouched and intact.
The guards carried them out without delay and marched directly toward the palace kitchen.
In the kitchen, the Joseon chefs were still discussing the unfortunate incident when the guards entered carrying the recovered ingredients. Surprise and relief filled the room.
"The king has ordered these to be returned," one of the guards announced.
Minsoo, who stood near the preparation table, felt a quiet wave of gratitude. Though the situation had caused chaos, justice had been restored swiftly.
Meanwhile, Lee gathered his own team for a serious discussion. His face was stern, his disappointment evident.
"Chefs compete because of their capacity and talent," Lee said firmly. "Not because they are incapable or because they cheat."
He turned his gaze toward Yumei. "What happened today was dreadful and unforgivable."
Yumei could not lift her head.
"You must ask the Joseon team for forgiveness," Lee continued. "As a chef, you earn dignity through loyalty and truthfulness. Skill alone does not define greatness. Character does."
The room remained silent.
"This is not the Yumei I once knew," Lee added quietly. "You have changed—from a skilled and honorable chef to someone consumed by greed."
Tears gathered in Yumei's eyes. She felt exposed, ashamed, and overwhelmed by regret.
"That will be all for today," Lee concluded. "Rest well and prepare yourselves for tomorrow's competition."
He left the room, leaving Yumei seated alone. She covered her face with her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks. For the first time, she fully acknowledged the weight of her actions.
"How did I allow myself to fall this far?" she whispered. "I was ready to win with honor… and now I have lost my dignity."
Across the palace courtyard, Minsoo gathered her team. Though exhausted from the day's drama, her determination remained unshaken.
"I apologize for the outrageous behavior displayed by the other team," she began calmly. "But we cannot allow their actions to distract us. Tomorrow is what truly matters."
She spread out her notes on the table.
"We need a pressure cooker to make our dish tomorrow," she declared. "This pressure cooker will secure our victory."
"A pressure cooker?" the team exclaimed almost in unison.
"You would never find such a thing in this town," Dal said.
"Can't we just use our normal pot?" Jihoo asked.
"No," Minsoo replied firmly. "A normal pot will not give us the depth of flavor we require. The meat needs intense, concentrated heat. Without pressure, it will take too long to cook properly, and we might not finish before the competition time elapses."
The chefs exchanged worried glances.
"We must ensure the dish heats thoroughly and evenly," Minsoo continued. "That is the only way to achieve the texture and richness we need."
She straightened up decisively. "I need to see the king."
She turned to Dal. "Dal, I'm leaving the rest of the chefs in your care."
Dal nodded seriously.
"Jihoo, Miso, and everyone else," Minsoo added, "please assist Dal tomorrow. If I do not make it back to the competition on time, I trust you to carry out the plan."
There was a mixture of anxiety and determination in their expressions.
"I believe in you all," Minsoo said softly. "We have come too far to lose now."
Without wasting another moment, she hurried toward the king's office.
"My king!" she called as she entered his chamber.
Insu stood beside the king when she arrived.
"What issue is this?" the king asked immediately.
"We urgently need a pressure cooker for tomorrow's competition," Minsoo said.
"A pressure cooker?" the king repeated, confusion crossing his face.
"Yes, Your Majesty," she replied. "It is essential for our dish."
Insu remained silent, thinking carefully.
"I do not believe such a device exists within our land," the king said slowly.
"We must find a way," Minsoo insisted. "Without it, our preparation will suffer."
After a long pause filled with contemplation, Insu finally spoke.
"My king… I believe I know of a craftsman who might be capable of creating such a device."
The king turned toward him. "Who is this man?"
"He is the one your late father banished from the kingdom," Insu explained. "After he created an invention that caused an explosion."
The king's expression shifted slightly.
"It will be difficult to convince him," Insu continued. "His uncle was once one of the royal elders. When he passed away, the late king dismissed his family's pleas and treated him harshly."
"What is his name?" the king asked.
"Rowoon, Your Majesty."
"Do you know where he was banished to?"
"Yes, my king."
The king fell into deep thought. The room was silent except for the faint crackle of the candle flames.
Finally, he spoke. "Very well. Minsoo, prepare yourself. Insu, take her there. Inform Rowoon that you were sent by his majesty."
"Yes, my king," Insu replied.
The urgency of the situation left no time for delay. Minsoo quickly prepared for the journey.
Before they departed, the king offered one more instruction.
"Minsoo," he said gently, "dress like a man."
She looked at him in surprise.
"When people see you and Insu traveling together," he explained, "they must not assume you are husband and wife. It will avoid unnecessary gossip."
Minsoo nodded in understanding.
When they were fully prepared, the king personally escorted them to the palace gate. The night air was cool, and a faint breeze stirred the silence.
He watched as they stood side by side. Even in her masculine attire, Minsoo's grace was unmistakable.
As they began to walk away together, speaking quietly, the king felt an unfamiliar discomfort stir within him.
He turned to his personal palace guard.
"Do they look good together?" he asked abruptly.
"Who, my king?" the guard replied cautiously.
"Those two," the king said, subtly pointing at Minsoo and Insu.
The guard hesitated before answering honestly. "Yes, Your Majesty. They look… as though they are married."
"What?" the king exclaimed sharply.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
He studied Minsoo more carefully from a distance.
"Even dressed as a man," he asked, "does she still look obviously like a woman?"
"Yes, my king," the guard replied.
The king clenched his fists.
"No," he muttered under his breath. "I cannot allow this. I cannot let these two go on this journey alone again."
His gaze remained fixed on them as they continued walking beyond the palace gates, unaware of the storm of thoughts swirling within his mind.
The competition loomed ahead.
The kingdom's pride was at stake.
But something else, far more personal, had begun to take root in the king's heart—and he could no longer ignore it.
⸻