Chapter 3

The man’s modern, fancy German SUV charged up the wild, unfamiliar forest without hesitation.

Its body gleamed like a showroom model transported straight from a showroom on Teheran-ro, sunlight scattering across its glassy finish like gold dust. Gravel clattered noisily beneath its tires as it rolled along.

—You have arrived at your destination. Navigation will now end.

He was halfway up a mountain, in a place where not a trace of modern civilization could be found, yet the navigation system spoke as if it had already finished its job.

Deokcheon County, Chungnam Province, Worak Township, Cheongso-yo.

Han Eden checked the location one more time before getting out of the car. After walking a few more steps up the unpaved road, he found himself faced with a surreal sight.

“Ha.”

He let out a short sigh as he took off his sunglasses.

Before him lay a massive earthen kiln, stretching along the sloping hillside in the shape of a dragon ascending to heaven. Blazing red flames surged from each firebox, while acrid smoke billowed from a small chimney jutting out of the kiln’s side.

A one-ton truck was parked in a corner of the kiln yard. Its side was dented, and splashes of muddy water covered it like camouflage. Eden looked at his reflection in the dirty car window. It was like seeing haute couture spread out on a stall at a rural market.

‘Surely this run-down place can’t be all there is.’

Frowning, Eden continued surveying his surroundings.

The dirt floor of the kiln yard was uneven, with not even the stones leveled out, and the air was so hot it felt suffocating. Despite the refreshing weather in May, the area around the kiln was boiling like the middle of summer. Displeased by the dirt getting on his shoes, he covered his nose with a handkerchief and made his way farther inside.

“Is anyone here?”

Eden raised his voice. No answer came.

“Is nobody here?”

He called out once more, exercising patience. No chef would leave a boiling pot unattended. He assumed a potter would be no different when a kiln was blazing at full force.

“Yeees—”

A young woman’s voice came from somewhere. Eden’s head snapped toward it. From behind a pile of stacked firewood, a small figure was slowly emerging through the acrid smoke.

“……”

Eden could hardly believe his eyes. The woman was carrying a wooden back rack nearly as large as she was.

She wore loose work pants with the knees sticking out and a T-shirt whose collar had stretched completely out of shape. The towel around her neck was soaked with sweat, its ends hanging limply. Beads of sweat glistened between strands of hair tied tightly back. Soot covered her face, arms, and just about everything else, leaving her looking filthy.

‘An apprentice.’

He reached his conclusion quickly. She had probably come to learn the craft, only to be worked to the bone. Things had been much the same in the kitchen world back in the day.

Still, making a woman who looked that skinny and weak carry logs? This might be a pottery workshop that valued tradition, but exploiting apprentices was an outdated way of thinking, even by those standards.

“Hey.”

Eden beckoned to her with a nod of his chin. The woman struggled to lower the rack and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her face was smudged with soot, but the eyes visible beneath it were unnaturally clear. Far too innocent for her own good. He clicked his tongue as he slipped his handkerchief into the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Where’s the owner of Cheongso-yo? Go get them and bring them here. A guest has arrived on important business.”

He offered neither an introduction nor a greeting. The man’s decision to start issuing orders without so much as exchanging names left her dumbfounded.

Ja-yeong pulled off her gloves, dusted them off, and looked Eden up and down. A gleaming suit, polished shoes, and an expression dripping with arrogance. This must be the “difficult chef” Representative Oh of Ijobyeongga had mentioned.

“Business?”

Ja-yeong asked in return.

“What business is it of yours?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

Eden took a business card from the inner pocket of his jacket and handed it to her.

Contemporary Korean cuisine
Moesan

The restaurant’s business card had nothing but a gold logo printed against a black background. It bore no person’s title or contact information. He had decided there was no need to reveal his name to some country bumpkin of an apprentice.

“I’ve brought you an offer that could make you quite a bit of money, so go tell the owner. I’ll make sure you get a decent tip.”

Tip.

Ja-yeong’s eyebrow twitched at his utterly appalling choice of words.

Was he treating her like some errand girl? And what was with that arrogant attitude, as if money could buy anything…?

She’d been willing to offer him a glass of cold water, but after seeing his insolent behavior, she was tempted to bring out a sack of salt instead of a bowl of water.

Ja-yeong didn’t even take the business card Eden held out. Treating him as if he were invisible, she walked right past him, her eyes fixed solely on the blazing firebox of the kiln.

“Huh?”

Eden looked back and forth between his hand hanging in midair and the woman walking away.

He’d been ignored? Han Eden, of all people? By some filthy woman from the middle of nowhere in the mountains?

Displeasure raced down his spine as if it had been waiting for its chance. The muggy air, the primitive surroundings, the dirt and dust ruining his shoes—every last thing was getting on his nerves. Eden strode forward and blocked the woman’s path.

“Hey. Can’t you hear me?”

Without answering, Ja-yeong picked up a thick log from the wooden rack she’d set on the ground. Eden’s patience snapped.

“I’m talking to you!”

Smack. Eden roughly grabbed Ja-yeong by the wrist.

“Ah…!”

The unexpected strength of his grip made Ja-yeong’s hand go limp.

Thud, clatter, roll.

The log fell to the ground and rolled to a stop right in front of Eden’s shoe. A cloud of dust puffed up around his polished leather toe.

Ja-yeong’s gaze followed the fallen log. It was precious pine firewood that had been drying for over a year. If dirt got on it, sparks would fly when it burned…

After checking the log first, she slowly raised her head and glared at Eden. Her gaze was firm and cold, completely at odds with her delicate appearance.

“I’m not selling.”

“Selling what?”

“You came to buy pottery, didn’t you? I said I’m not selling. Not to someone like you. Absolutely not.”

Ja-yeong tried to wrench her wrist free, but Eden wouldn’t let go. Instead, his grip tightened.

“Why do you get to decide that?”

Eden leaned in until he was right in front of Ja-yeong’s face and snarled. They were close enough to feel each other’s breath. The smell of sweat and earth mingled with Eden’s strong cologne, creating an atmosphere thick with tension.

“I, Han Eden, am telling you I want to buy it.”

His eyes gleamed fiercely.

“And what right does a mere apprentice like you have to make that decision? Is this how the pottery world works? No hierarchy, no rules between superiors and subordinates? I told you to go quietly and bring out the owner!”

The situation was on the verge of exploding. Ja-yeong bit her lip, about to snap back at his domineering attitude, when—

“Dear, is the kiln ready yet? The rice is all cooked!”

A gravelly voice interrupted them from the narrow path between the wooden fences. Both of them turned toward the sound at the same time.

At last, someone had appeared who fit this surreal setting perfectly.

White hair, neatly trimmed white beard. But what drew the eye most of all was his attire: a crisp white ramie jacket and a pair of immaculate trousers. Eden’s eyes lit up.

That was it. The familiar way he addressed his apprentice, the effortless instructions he gave her—and, above all, the sort of outfit one might see only when passing Gyeongbokgung Palace.

There was no way that snowy-white old man wasn’t the owner of Cheongso-yo.

Just looking at his attire, which seemed decades out of step with the times, Eden could suddenly understand the refined, elegant luster of Cheongso-yo’s white porcelain, so unlike the pottery made these days. He studied the old man’s deeply wrinkled fingertips as if trying to assess their worth.

“It’s ready.”

Ja-yeong answered as she roughly pulled her wrist out of Eden’s grasp. He must have squeezed her awfully hard; red marks had already appeared on her wrist.

With his hands clasped behind his back, the old man ambled closer. Then he noticed the man he hadn’t seen earlier because the trees had been blocking his view.

“Who might you be? Don’t reckon I’ve seen you around before.”

The old man asked, twitching his white eyebrows. As if he’d been waiting for this moment, Eden swiftly straightened his clothes. The expression with which he’d been snarling at Ja-yeong just moments ago vanished without a trace. He bowed with the face of the most polite, sophisticated businessman in the world.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Hm?”

“I’m Eden Han, the head chef of ‘Moesan,’ a contemporary Korean cuisine restaurant.”

Eden looked at the old man with a confident smile, firmly convinced that he’d finally met the real owner—someone he could actually talk to.