"Ten minutes—"
The kitchen doors were shoved open, and a waiter hurried in, throwing back his head to shout like he was sounding an alarm at the head chef at the far end of the kitchen:
"It's been ten minutes since the ribs were served—"
The apprentices at either end of the long table froze in the bustling kitchen, then turned to look at the head chef.
The atmosphere was taut.
The head chef remained silent. With his arms folded, he stared at the enormous oven before him.
Amid the radiating heat, his azure eyes showed not the slightest retreat or wavering. His expression was grave as he simply waited.
As though enduring some invisible torment and ordeal.
The hands of the pocket watch in his hand turned silently.
"Thirteen minutes—"
The waiter reported again, hurriedly saying, "They've finished half a glass of sparkling water, and there are barely any ribs left."
The head chef still said nothing.
Only the oldest apprentice turned around and waved, signaling him to check again and report back. The waiter froze, then turned and left. Before long, he returned once more, looking uneasy. "They asked for sauce."
"What sauce?" The apprentices held their breath.
"Two portions of black pepper sauce and sweet chili sauce. They also asked for lemon sea salt."
The waiter wiped his sweat, trembling as he prepared to speak, when he heard the clear scrape of steel amid the blazing heat of the oven.
He involuntarily looked up over the apprentices' shoulders and saw the head chef's broad back before the oven. Gripping an iron fork, he thrust it toward the huge oven with a solemn face, like a man challenging a dragon.
The instant the oven door opened, an intoxicating gale burst forth from the flames. The rich fragrance released