Dispatches from the Graduate School of Ghost Stories - Chapter 8

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Urban Legends and Graduate School Presents (8)
A Monster’s Table (3)
“It’s not a bad idea, is it? I saw a video online of someone ordering incredibly expensive ramen at a hotel.”
[Well…… I don’t think it’s a terrible idea.]
“Right?!”
[Grilling, steaming, frying—those are difficult for beginners. It’s better to stick with what you do well.]
“Be honest with me. You don’t care, do you.”
[Correct. I want to go home now. Still, if you manage to make it out alive, you can prepare that ramen for me later.]
“I’ll grill some pork belly for you too.”
If he came back alive, he’d have to make whatever was asked. Yu Jong-hwa added the answer that came from genuine sincerity.
With practiced ease, he sliced scallions and oiled a pot. He was in the process of mastering a trick—wiping his face with his sleeve as if casually, all while exchanging brief words to avoid drawing attention.
The young man at Yu Jong-hwa’s side, who’d been frying chicken breast, suddenly shot to his feet with a plate. He passionately stirred the sauce and scattered it across the salad he’d made. The tart aroma of the brown sauce tickled the end of Yu Jong-hwa’s nose.
The cooks and spectators murmured at the unusually quick submission, their attention snapping toward the judges’ table.
“Good. Salad—basics of the basics. I made it clear I wouldn’t discriminate between menu choices, so it’s not a poor selection.”
“Thank you, Chef! I thought an appetizer would stimulate the palate!”
“I like salad too. Is that chicken breast salad?”
The Idol smiled down at the plate presented before her. Bolstered by her response, the Amateur Chef lifted his head confidently and launched into his introduction.
“I grew up by the seaside, so I built this around seafood. It’s a sauce made by reducing oyster sauce and shrimp, finished with lime juice. To let you enjoy land, sea, and sky alike, I added a light sprinkle of bacon.”
“Good. I’ll taste it first.”
The Head Chef naturally picked up a fork before anyone else. The fork, speared with chicken and lettuce, disappeared into the white tent and emerged empty.
Following his lead, the Idol, who’d shown interest in the menu, picked up her fork.
“Let me hold off on my assessment for now. What do you think, Ash?”
“Um…… honestly? It’s a bit fishy! The salad and sauce don’t work together at all.”
“My opinion differs.”
The Head Chef, rising from his massive frame, took the plate and approached the Amateur Chef, whose smile had turned awkward.
“Eat it all. You can’t leave food uneaten in front of me.”
The man hastily received the plate, grabbing the salad scraps with his bare hand. Shoving it all into his mouth at once, he still seemed to expect a positive evaluation of his cooking.
Yu Jong-hwa watched the spectacle of someone else indulging in food without restraint with an ominous feeling.
The cooks and spectators alike fell silent. Only the occasional clang of kitchen tools and the faint sound of something simmering could be heard.
The Amateur Chef wiped his dirty apron with his hand and tipped the empty plate slightly to show it off.
“At last.”
The vulgar meal had finally ended. The Head Chef grabbed his shoulder and led him before the other participants, displaying him like merchandise. The judge snapped his fingers twice to draw everyone’s attention.
“Does anyone want to work with unusual ingredients? I’ll specially prep them for you myself.”
“Please, just one more chance! I didn’t show you everything I could do! Let me make it again! Please……!”
Several hands rose among the cooks who’d been watching cautiously. Yu Jong-hwa shut his eyes tightly.
“Good. Rib bones, thigh meat, some organ. Anyone brave enough to take on a challenge for the tongue?”
A stout woman standing behind Yu Jong-hwa raised her hand.
Absurdly, the Amateur Chef teetering on the brink seemed more devastated about failing to prove his culinary skill than the threat to his life itself. He clung to the hope that his dream couldn’t end here.
“Please, it’s a sauce my father taught me…….”
“Save the sob stories for heaven. If you make it there, that is.”
And to think he lied on top of it! The Head Chef bristled, picking up a Chinese Cleaver.
The broadcast within the urban legend cared nothing for broadcast standards, but Yu Jong-hwa’s eyes didn’t see the violent scene.
With each touch of the blade, the man became red and white ice cream, scattered across the floor.
The Head Chef’s hands moved with blinding speed and precision. The magical preparation of ingredients was over before Yu Jong-hwa could exhale once—swift as magic.
What remained on the table was a clean, fresh hunk of meat, as if freshly purchased from a butcher.
“The phrase ‘stimulate the palate’ is too grand for this. All I managed to ruin was my own mouth.”
A mouth at all?
Faced with a situation beyond common sense, Yu Jong-hwa gave a hollow laugh and entertained an absurd question.
The Head Chef swiftly distributed the ingredients to the participants who’d requested them. Then, as if to calm his rage, he clapped his hands once loudly to clear the air.
“Now, so that no such misfortune befalls the rest of you, please give your best effort. Truly. It was so dreadful I wouldn’t eat it even in heaven!”
The audience’s mocking jeers followed like sound effects.
The Head Chef’s white apron bore not a single stain, yet he peeled off his gloves and handed them to a staff member. Then, with seasoned efficiency, he fastened a fresh apron around his waist.
The participants focused on their own cooking, no longer sparing so much as a glance at the judge.
Yu Jong-hwa scrubbed white rice meticulously and placed it in the Electric Rice Cooker.
[Wouldn’t ramen be done quickly? I’m hanging up now.]
The calm voice flowed from his earphone, and Yu Jong-hwa’s head snapped up. He pleaded urgently into the sole connection to the world he’d lived in.
“Wait…… it’ll be ready soon!”
[…… wouldn’t it be better to bring it after something greasy has been served? I’m not certain whether that demon can feel the sensation of biting into food, but.]
“I was thinking the same thing…… but it looks like everyone’s making spicy dishes.”
[Koreans, always.]
“Are those people actually Korean?”
A woman who had been displaying remarkably professional Knife Skills stepped forward to face the judges, her expression taut with nerves as she presented her dish.
At first glance, it looked like ordinary fish cookery, which put Yu Jong-hwa at ease. She hadn’t been one of the cooks who’d raised their hand to use the “ingredients” the Head Chef was offering.
“It’s Grilled Sea Bass prepared with Sriracha sauce for heat. It’s not really my usual style, but I studied this new approach especially for today.”
“The sear is perfect. It looks delicious, and I like it.”
“Thank you, Chef!”
The Head Chef, offering his first genuine praise since the program began, cut the steaming fish with his knife. Another perfectly severed slice disappeared behind the white cloth.
The Idol Judge, having waited her turn with good sense, accepted the fish between her lips and nodded in evident satisfaction.
Was she through to the next round?
He was relieved no new demolition scene had erupted, yet he couldn’t shake the worry that the judges’ standards were somehow climbing higher. Yu Jong-hwa checked his small Electric Rice Cooker’s display: six minutes remaining until his rice finished.
According to an iron law of the Yu family—that ramen must absolutely be topped with rice—he refused to abandon his white rice even in the midst of this chaos.
“Originally, this fish has very little fishiness to it, yet I don’t see why you’d mask its flavor entirely with spicy sauce. You have technique, but you lack refinement.”
“I think it’s delicious!”
The Idol Judge spoke up brightly in defense, and the cook’s expression began to sour as she bowed her head in gratitude.
“Fine. Let’s do this. This is overly trained cooking. But you certainly hold a place in the world’s food culture. I’ll put in a word at a Restaurant I know—go give it a try.”
“……Thank you! Really, thank you so much, Chef!”
“Then our judging ends here. There is no place for you in my kitchen.”
That’s it! Yu Jong-hwa inwardly rejoiced at this sudden escape route.
But it seemed this wasn’t the ending the broadcast wanted. The Host approached the Head Chef with an awkward smile, pointing out that his decision violated the Program Rules.
Behind the Host, staff gathered in one corner of the dim film set were making brushing-away motions with their hands.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but apparently it’s against the Program Rules? This isn’t my opinion—the Producer over there said so!”
“Oh, is that so? Then is the point of this program to mercilessly eliminate cooks who could at least put decent food in an empty stomach? Or do you want me to haul away someone I don’t like and have them serve as decoration for a Hotel?”
“Uh……. Well…….”
The actor playing the Host looked like he wanted to pay his penalty fee and quit the show that very instant. When his resentful gaze fell upon him, the Producer behind the massive camera frantically raised both hands, forming a large circle.
“He says you can do whatever you want.”
“Of course I can.”
This seemed different from what the production crew intended. But the Host, having relayed the instructions in his own way, had already slipped away and disappeared beyond the stage.
The Head Chef shoved the entire plate of food into his own “face.” The gray-haired Idol Judge let out a small protest at having her meal taken away.
“Oh, we have a hungry person here. Cooks! Get moving, all of you!”
People who looked startled as if they’d touched fire came pouring down onto the stage with dishes in hand. In that brief window, far too many had completed plausible menus.
Homemade Sausage, Spicy Curry, Gochujang Tenderloin Steak, Tuna Tartare…….
Some were dishes Yu Jong-hwa had never even heard the names of.
[Baal Zebub symbolizes Gluttony. Not refined eating—raw appetite. Do you see the difference?]
“Uh……. So it’s about sheer quantity?”
[It’s when you shove anything into your mouth without thinking. But the demon in front of our Research Institute seems to have some aesthetics about eating more. If you fail, you die; if you pass, you change jobs. Congratulations.]
“That’s the real problem. Aiming for the middle is harder. If it weren’t for that Head Chef’s Hotel, I think I could slip through.”
Grown accustomed to his Phone Contact’s cynical tone, Yu Jong-hwa let the words flow in one ear and out the other as he scooped rice into a bowl to cool it down. Wasn’t it standard practice to top ramen with cold rice?
And the chewy texture of the noodles was crucial. To present them before the Head Chef while preserving that perfect bite, it was time to start cooking now.
The ultimate Ramen recipe, refined over ten years of getting beaten by his sister, was as follows.
1. Sauté sliced green onion in oil, then add Ramen broth, a bit of minced garlic, and a pinch of red pepper powder, cooking together over low heat.
2. Judge the water by feel. In this Survival kitchen, he desperately hoped to find a pot the same size as the one he used at home.
3. When bubbles begin to rise in the water, add the noodles, and true to Korean fashion, add half a spoon of minced garlic. Also add half a spoon of vinegar and sugar.
4. Carefully crack an egg into it without letting it burst.
In the end, no ramen could overcome authentic ramen. So the fundamental flavor must not be overly distorted. It was the result of striving to bring to life, as much as possible, the “delicious ramen” that existed in our imagination.
Yu Jong-hwa hoped the judging of the Japchae, which was receiving high praise, would wrap up quickly. Of all the bad luck—the previous contestant had performed too well. He placed the ramen bowl on a tray and shifted his weight slightly from foot to foot.
“The tongue was grilled extremely well! Using non-standard pork and bringing out the crisp texture through stir-frying was very creative! Let’s sign a contract right now!”
Good grief, what did he eat every day to even think of grilling a tongue and laying it on Japchae?
A round of fireworks and cheers passed. When Yu Jong-hwa’s turn came, he crossed the stage with his head bowed very low, expressing respect with his entire body.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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