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Chapter 13
No one’s looking this way, right?
Watching carefully, Haerin leaned slightly toward Ihyun and whispered.
“What is this?”
“Iced chamomile.”
“……Yes, I can see that. That’s not what I’m asking.”
“Then what are you asking?”
“Why are you giving this to me, Anchor?”
For a moment, Ihyun met her eyes before replying evenly.
“Because I thought you’d be sitting here all by yourself.”
“……”
She didn’t need to ask what sitting here by herself meant. He was right, and it stung.
Before Ihyun had arrived, she’d been ready to leave for the hallway.
Why does this man always hit the mark?
From her perspective, it was all or nothing. The other night in front of her house, he’d gotten under her skin. Now today, it was infuriatingly… comforting.
Haerin lifted the iced chamomile in one go. The worries and tension seemed to dissolve in the coolness.
But how did he know to pick chamomile?
She couldn’t drink coffee, so whenever she went to a café, she always ordered chamomile.
And not even hot—iced chamomile. That’s such a niche choice.
Maybe it was pure coincidence.
“Contestants, are you satisfied with the ingredients you obtained?”
“Nope.”
“They’re the worst~”
“Please, just one more chance to draw again!”
The MC’s voice cut through.
“Well, like it or not, too bad. The ingredients you’ve drawn today must be used in the designated menu for the next shoot.”
Juho raised his hand, looking suddenly deflated compared to earlier.
“Do I really have to use it in the main dish? Can’t I just put it on the side?”
“Nope, that won’t work. Juho, what side dishes? You’ve only got the one main dish to prove yourself with.”
Sungjae shut him down without hesitation. Juho clutched his head in despair, and groans rose around the set.
Honestly, understandable. Juho’s special ingredient was 123 Chocolate. And the menu they’d been tasked with for the next recording was none other than spicy braised chicken stew.
“Hey, Haerin.”
Comedian Hagiho nudged her.
“Yes, sunbae.”
“Wanna swap ingredients with me? It’ll really be in your favor.”
He said it in that obvious joking variety-show tone. He was holding his card face-down.
“Sunbae.”
“Mm.”
“I’ll trade with you. But in return…”
“You won’t regret this. I promise.”
“Five thousand coins, please.”
Hagiho laughed.
The show had its own special currency, coins, hidden around the set or obtained through loans and trades. Whoever had the fewest coins at the end of each episode would be forced into a brutal punishment.
“Come on, five thousand? That’s our entire starting balance.”
“Yes, exactly. Trust me, you really won’t regret it.”
“You’re weird, you know that?”
Their playful exchange drew attention.
“What’s going on over there?”
“They’re making a deal, right next to me.”
“No, listen! I offered to trade and she asked me for five thousand coins. There’s a merchant among the contestants.”
“Well, what can I do? I need to make a profit somehow.”
The conversation ended with laughter, and Hagiho looked satisfied—he even mouthed ‘Good one’ at her.
Curious, Haerin leaned over.
“So, what ingredient did you actually get?”
“Me? French Pie. How am I supposed to make spicy braised chicken stew with this? What about you?”
“Garlic.”
“Holy crap, that’s one of the jackpot ingredients. Lucky you.”
Lucky indeed. She had followed the map straight to a garlic field. Success was good, but…
I’m a little worried about how ridiculous that footage is going to look on air.
“Thank you, everyone! Please head out safely~”
“Great job today!”
Haerin followed the crowd of goodbyes back to the waiting room. The unfinished chamomile was still there.
She entered the empty room and saw the condensation-soaked cup.
“What a waste… did I really leave this much?”
“Want me to buy you another one?”
Startled, Haerin turned toward the door.
Juho was leaning against the frame, then walked closer.
“Not coffee, huh? What is this—tea?”
“Ah, yes. Chamomile.”
“You must like tea. Anything else you like? What about alcohol?”
“I’m not good with alcohol.”
Juho hesitated, then offered,
“Some of us are getting together for a little dinner party. Do you want to join? You don’t have to drink. I can’t either.”
It was unexpected.
I thought it’d be impossible to get closer to anyone here.
The invitation made her happy and grateful, but—
“Sorry. I think it’d be better for you all to relax together without me.”
She had enough awareness not to intrude. They’d probably sit in silence nursing drinks, or end the night after a single bottle of soju.
“Ah, I see. If it’d make you uncomfortable, then never mind. But next time, please join us.”
“Of course. You did so well today.”
Juho left in the direction of the elevators, not the parking garage. A taxi, probably.
…I wonder when Shin Ihyun left.
As Sungjae had explained, <Self-Made Cooking King> was heavier on actual cooking. Contestants earned ingredients through missions, then competed with them. Ihyun’s role was introducing menus or announcing results—more serious than Sungjae’s lighter explanations.
But since there weren’t many tense moments today, he probably went home early.
Haerin stared down at the chamomile cup in her hand.
“……”
A small thought struck her.
Should I bring something for him next time?
When the relationship was awkward, it was better to balance things out through gestures.
She reached the parking garage, heading toward her car—only to freeze.
“……Anchor, you haven’t left yet?”
Ihyun was getting out of his driver’s seat. He was dressed casually in knitwear, so the shoot had definitely ended for him.
Not that I’m dying to know, but still…
Since she’d accepted chamomile from him, she couldn’t just ignore him.
She walked closer, and his impassive face turned toward her.
“Are you heading home now? Everyone else left earlier.”
“Yes, I just went back for this.”
He glanced at the take-out cup, making a low sound of acknowledgment. Then he asked abruptly:
“Your hand.”
“My… hand?”
“You hurt it earlier.”
“What?”
…Wait. Earlier?
“Don’t tell me—you actually saw me doing the mission?”
Ihyun nodded.
Haerin swallowed back a groan.
During the garlic-field mission, she’d had to catch thirty cloves tossed by staff into a basket. It was ridiculous, but she managed. The problem was—
I slipped and rolled right over, cut my hand on the basket, and had to stop bleeding with bandages.
She’d been worried enough about how the footage would look, and now he’d seen it with his own eyes.
So embarrassing…
She forced her expression to stay calm.
“It’s nothing serious. Just a small cut.”
“Show me.”
Haerin reluctantly held up her hand. Even with a bandage, faint blood stains were visible.
“I warned you to be careful about the weather.”
“……”
“And now you’re careless in other ways too?”
“……It’s not like I wanted that to happen. Who could’ve known I’d slip there?”
Still, a bit of blood was worth it for an ingredient like garlic. Someone else had drawn French Pie, after all.
Ihyun sighed briefly. His usually indifferent eyes tightened as though he were troubled.
If anyone saw him, they’d think he was genuinely upset.
Why this reaction? It’s not serious. And he’s not someone who should be worrying about me.
As Haerin wondered, a long straight hand extended something toward her.
