Dispatches from the Graduate School of Ghost Stories - Chapter 9

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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 (9)
A Chef’s Table (4)
The walk to the judges’ table felt unusually long. Perhaps the Studio truly was that vast, or maybe it was simply that he kept his head bowed as he walked, unable to see clearly what lay ahead.
The Chef, still unable to shake off the lingering impression from the previous menu, was enthusiastically encouraging the other contestants.
“Cook what you’re good at! What you’re good at! Did I ask you to bring me something extraordinary?”
“Yes, Chef!”
“But there are limits, aren’t there? I said to cook what you’re good at, and you brought me instant ramen?”
The Chef turned toward him, speaking, and Yu Jong-hwa, reading the room correctly and sensing no real anger, bowed even lower in deference as he set the bowl on the table.
If he’d had no chance whatsoever of surviving this urban legend, the Omen would have stabbed his palm the moment he decided on ramen as his menu—a reminder to come to his senses.
He glanced briefly at his unmarred palms.
“I’ve heard that while I can’t speak to other dishes, my ramen is genuinely well-made.”
Yu Jong-hwa persuaded the Chef with words that held not a shred of falsehood.
“Well, that’s acceptable. Ramen, you say…… I regard it as an exceptionally fine food. It’s the dish that leads hungry people in the dead of night into the most grievous of sins. Clever. But when will you show me your face?”
“I beg your pardon! I haven’t the courage to look directly at you, Chef!”
“Goodness…… A man without even self-respect. Is this how you conduct yourself before your superiors?”
“Yes! I can’t even meet your eyes! I simply follow obediently, whatever you command!”
“No backbone, no conviction. Crawling about like a fly. A rare talent among young people these days! My kitchen needs a crew that doesn’t flaunt their ego!”
“Yes, it seems I’m exactly the sort of talent you’ve been searching for!”
No, that’s not right.
He’d accepted the backhanded praise and fawned in response, but he sensed something had gone wrong.
[Very well done.]
A man’s mocking voice echoed low near his ear.
Regardless of his feelings, the Chef picked up Chopsticks. He prodded the soft-boiled egg lightly, confirming that the yolk oozed out, then loaded a full spoonful onto a white cloth and carried it away.
“Oh, I want an egg too!”
Since there were two mouths to feed—or rather, two judges—he’d made sure to include two eggs to keep them from squabbling.
Back at his Hometown, eggs had to be hidden well to keep them from wild boar, so Yu Jong-hwa stirred the bowl lightly with his Chopsticks to signal the Idol that there was another egg hidden beneath the noodles.
The Chef lifted the noodles with practiced Chopstick work. It was remarkable how the Bug Screen remained completely clean, untouched by even a splash of broth.
Or was it more remarkable that a foreign demon used Chopsticks at all?
From the crimson broth rose the pungent aroma everyone associated with late-night snacks. The resilient noodles shone with a light gloss befitting fried noodles, and when bitten through by teeth, the spicy and salty flavor lingered long enough on the tongue to register fully. The simple richness of the broken yolk embraced the pungent taste of the broth at the precise moment the noodles began to feel salty, creating a harmony that kept one eating without fatigue until the bowl showed its bottom.
A familiar taste, a familiar scent. Yet ramen could deceive even a sated stomach into believing it was hungry.
And Yu Jong-hwa felt hunger rise within him.
“Why did you decide to bring me this menu?”
The Chef asked him in a flat tone. When the one who would decide his fate placed a hand on Yu Jong-hwa’s shoulder, he lifted his head.
Though there was no wind in the enclosed Studio, the white, opaque Bug Screen trembled gently before him. Beyond it, a faint black smoke seemed to emit an unsettling vibration, like the collective buzz of countless insects.
He was terribly hungry.
Somehow, every living thing in the Studio had begun eating. The filming crew stuffed raw ingredients into their mouths heedlessly, while the contestants tasted their unfinished dishes by hand without reservation. Heedless of all else, they sought only to fill their own stomachs.
Yu Jong-hwa couldn’t begin to say when this scene had started.
Until just moments ago, hadn’t this place—befitting the guise of a broadcast—maintained at least minimal decorum?
He touched the Safety Glasses. He felt as though removing them would reveal all the truth.
“Don’t lay another hand on my food.”
A large hand hung motionless in the air before the face of the gray-haired woman, gently blocking her.
The Studio, which had been a realm of ravenous demons, instantly returned to order, and everything found its place. The cooks resumed their refined work, and the staff swallowed what remained in their mouths before refocusing on the shoot.
The acrid smoke and the stench of spoiled food soon dissipated.
“Among the people I know, the one with the most discerning palate…… said my ramen was the best thing I make.”
“I see. Creatures have varied tastes, you know. Which is precisely why it’s so difficult to define whether ‘deliciousness’ as a sensation ultimately exists. Still, you seem to have met a fine critic. You…… hmm, what shall I call you? Mr. Yu Jong-hwa?”
The alias, tinged with mockery, was one he’d heard before. Yu Jong-hwa nodded with clear presence of mind.
Then he gracefully extended his palm to gesture toward a bowl brimming with cold rice.
“I made rice as well, in case the portion seemed insufficient. After all, ramen must be eaten with rice!”
“Excellent! You do have good instincts! A cook is disqualified if the portion is inadequate!”
The Chef lifted the swelling ramen bowl and brought it toward his head. The Idol’s disappointed voice echoed, and cheers erupted prematurely from the audience seating. The staff bustled noisily, preparing to set off fireworks once more.
Now Yu Jong-hwa had to think of a way to escape from the Hotel ruled by this terrifying Chef…….
“However, the hiring decision is being held pending further review.”
“I’m sorry?!”
A dull metallic bell chime shattered the silence across the shooting floor. Yu Jong-hwa looked up at the Chef with bewildered eyes, waving his hands in protest to express his grievance.
“But you were eating it delightfully just moments ago!”
“Yes, but it’s difficult for me to evaluate hiring based on a dish where I sense no technique at all.”
“You emphasized that taste was what mattered!”
“That’s because the researchers at the Ramen Company did well, not because you did, Mr. Yu Jong-hwa.”
“But I put so much effort into cooking it…….”
“The sesame oil was excellent, and the noodle cooking time was just right. That’s precisely why this is a hold, not a rejection.”
“Oh, then……!”
Color flooded back into Yu Jong-hwa’s face. The courage that had driven him to argue recklessly in the face of death drained away in an instant.
Ever since entering the Urban Legend phenomenon, his bravery had been flickering to life and dying by the second.
‘Finally my sister’s actually useful to me. Not that I’m grateful, but I should make her some ramen when I get home.’
Already thinking of returning home, he conjured up the faces of his irritating siblings with desperate longing.
“We’ll hire you as an intern. Once we add it to the room service menu and see how customers respond, we can discuss a permanent position. How does that sound?”
“Another contract position here too…….”
[Your research contract still has considerable time remaining. I trust you’re aware of this.]
A dry voice crackled from the wireless earbuds he’d thought had already disconnected, pulling him back to reality. Right. He was bound to that Research Lab until graduation. And his advisor hadn’t forgotten to add a thoroughly logical—and galling—piece of advice.
[Since you won’t be getting a receipt from the Urban Legend, bring proper documentation. At least photograph the materials when you receive them. Do. Absolutely. Otherwise I’m sending you back.]
“A photograph?!”
“Oh, you want to take a photo? Of course that’s possible.”
The Chef spread his arms generously, already holding a crisp sheaf of paper in one hand.
The Employment Contract that a staff member had hurried to correct bore the word “Temporary” before the title “Employment Contract.”
Yu Jong-hwa stared at it with a troubled expression, grateful at least that he’d be receiving the Trophy along with the contract.
“I’m truly grateful, but I’ve only recently started my current position. It’s work where I must strictly honor my contract duration……. Thank you genuinely for the high regard…….”
“You just need to write your name here at the bottom, Yu Jong-hwa. Not difficult, right?”
“…….”
Yu Jong-hwa, about to respond reflexively, froze the moment he heard his real name. His head dropped.
It was like suddenly facing a vast cliff edge. Some primal instinct within him was whispering: you cannot run from this, surrender yourself. His own survival sense was advising capitulation.
He took the contract.
From the hand in white gloves, an elegant black fountain pen was passed to him; when he removed its cap, viscous ink began to flow.
Yu Jong-hwa exhaled a chilled breath and asked without hope.
“Can the employment date be adjusted?”
“How about this?”
The Chef took back his pen from Yu Jong-hwa, then in his refined handwriting, modified the section where today’s date had been written.
‘When the hiring is ready.’
On the paper passed back to him, beneath the crossed-out date, those words now appeared.
A contract with vague wording is something to avoid at all costs. But Yu Jong-hwa had no choice. The enormous Chef held out the fountain pen to him, and it would never be withdrawn until he signed.
And so ‘Yu Jong-hwa’ wrote his name carefully.
At least he wouldn’t be dragged away right this moment—that was his only consolation.
The Chef kindly positioned him beside himself, placed the Trophy in his hands, and permitted him to take a photo together.
Switching the camera to selfie mode, Yu Jong-hwa managed a forced smile and struck a harmonious pose with his provisional employer.
“Say cheese.”
“Cheese.”
Good heavens. The demon even made a heart sign with his fingers for the camera.
Worried the photo might not turn out, Yu Jong-hwa confirmed the clear image and let out a relieved sigh.
Thanks to the broadcast station’s unnecessary flourishes, the background with its shimmering paper confetti looked quite impressive.
The only awkward thing in it was his own expression, on the verge of tears.
Yu Jong-hwa bowed in thanks and turned to flee this place immediately.
Still, this Trophy would seem to have value as research material.
“There was something I was curious about, so please answer before you go.”
“Yes?”
“That thing in your ear.”
The Chef tapped his white cloth deliberately while asking. It was the area where a human might have an ear.
A faint rustling sound reached Yu Jong-hwa’s ears. His frozen feet twisted slowly as he turned back to face his counterpart.
Yu Jong-hwa quickly deployed the excuse he’d prepared in case he was caught.
“I, I……! To keep from being nervous, I absolutely have to listen to music. On a day like today, if I mess up from nerves, I’d ruin everything, so I was just trying to concentrate!”
“That makes sense! What song were you listening to?”
But the Chef didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he brought his hand to Yu Jong-hwa’s ear and with delicate movements removed the white earbuds.
He held them briefly in his gloved palm. The demon tilted his white mesh-like form gently, as if listening to the object’s sound.
[…….]
Yu Jong-hwa felt cold sweat break out as his heartbeat accelerated.
‘What am I supposed to say now?’
A long silence stretched out. The Studio, heavy with quiet, seemed to be waiting for his punishment.
The hand in white gloves slowly brought the earbuds closer, still holding them.
Yu Jong-hwa opened his palm.
Faint music drifted from the earbuds as they fell into his visibly trembling hand. It was a song so famous even he recognized it.
“Bohemian Rhapsody,” tinny through the receiver’s poor audio quality, was rushing toward its climax.
“Tell your friend they have excellent taste in music.”
Chef bent low and whispered something meant only for me.
Chef pointed toward the door.
Chef began to applaud.
Me. Me. Me.
The song flowing through my earbuds cut out.
With permission to leave the devil’s presence, Yu Jong-hwa moved toward the exit.
His eyelids grew heavy and dropped closed. With only a human body’s meager strength, he pressed his eyes shut tighter and began counting slowly.
One, two. The sharp noise that had been so distinct dulled and faded as if heard through water.
Three. Behind him, another candidate’s anguished cry receded further and further into distance.
Four. Among the bustle of hurried footsteps, only the sound of his own shoes emerged.
Five. He grasped the cold doorknob and pulled. Fresh air spilled across his face like waking from a dream.
“Jeon Si-hyun, are you still there?”
Six. The world around him dimmed. His steps carried him fully through the door.
Yu Jong-hwa held his breath. A bell tone sounded through the earbuds—the call had ended.

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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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