= Chris POV =

  Fresh chef’s coats and sanitation shoe coverings were provided at the doors to the kitchens. Once I was dressed in the appropriate work attire, it was 2 a.m., and Ruby assembled us all in the main kitchen to delegate tasks based on each chef’s strengths.

  Marilyn was a Pastry Chef, so she was assigned to prep the ingredients for the café’s pastries and baked goods, while I was set to work on the main courses with Ms. Satō and Mr. Nakamura, who were on shift with me.

  Working with the other two chefs was a breeze. Mr. Nakamura had a refined pate and specialized in fermented products that required time and care. The food he produced was always light and delicate, reflecting the effort he put into cultivating and preparing ingredients. His kimchi was to die for, and his sake? It was as if he’d been born with blessed hands, able to ferment anything to perfection. Even the yeast for the bread station was prepared by Mr. Nakamura—his golden touch always made the bread rise just a little more than anyone else’s attempts.

  Ms. Satō, on the other hand, had a keen eye for meats. Her cuts were swift and precise, wasting not even a sliver in the process of preparing ingredients for the day’s meals. I had great fun observing her techniques. While working on fried dishes like tempura and croquettes, I asked her for tips to improve my knife skills. She was more than happy to share advice, and I absorbed every word like a sponge.

  Before I knew it, the midnight shift had flown by. By 6 a.m., we were done for the day. The three of us had neatly organized and beled all the ingredients in easy-to-reach containers for the day chefs to use during service.

  “Chris! Come, I’ve prepared a tasting spread for my test cake!”

  Ruby’s voice boomed across the staff canteen just as I was leaving the kitchen. I turned to see her waving her hands from a table at the far side of the room, beckoning me over with the enthusiasm of someone who’d just struck gold.

  I sighed as I pulled off my chef’s coat and hung it over my arm as I walked over. It seemed that Ruby had cut up several small samples and pced them on tiny side ptes, ready for me to try each one.

  “Did you say this was from your test cake?” I asked, looking at the multi:colored slices” I asked suspiciously.

  “Well, I kind of used the same batter, but dyed it five different colors. I wanted to make a sort of rainbow cake. However, it turns out the dye was fvored, so I have a few different fvors in this one cake attempt,” Ruby replied sheepishly.

  I sighed. The only person I knew who experimented without reading bels was Ruby. When it came to the food prepared in-house, she was incredibly meticulous, but when it came to her own creations, she was so careless it didn’t make sense.

  I pced my used chef’s coat on the bench and reached for one of the many colorful cake slices. Popping it into my mouth, I was immediately hit with the soft texture and moist crumb. A deep bourbon mixed with chocote bloomed across my tongue, rich and decadent. I was gd Ruby had opted for small portions—this little piece already felt like the equivalent of a shot.

  “Oh, cake!”

  Marylin’s voice cut through my thoughts, and before Ruby or I could stop her, she flounced over, plucked up a slice, and popped it into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, her head tilting ever so slightly as if analyzing every note of fvor.

  I gnced at Ruby, who—shockingly—looked pale. Ruby, who normally shoved cake at anyone within arm’s reach like it was her life’s mission, now seemed hesitant.

  “Ah, Marylin, I’m not sure if it’s suitable for you—” Ruby started, her voice unusually cautious.

  “Nonsense.” Marylin waved her off. “Ruby, you really need to stop being so shy about sharing your creations. Wasn’t I the first one to introduce you to my rum-and-raisin specialty?”

  She tapped her lips and nodded. “Hmm, it needs a bit of cardamom to offset the bourbon. I’m guessing you were going for a bck forest bourbon vibe? Not quite there yet, but it’s a good start.”

  With that, she smiled, spun on her heel, and disappeared back into the pastry station, already chatting animatedly with the others.

  I turned to Ruby, utterly confused.

  “I’ve never seen you so put out by someone trying your cake. Is something wrong?”

  Ruby let out a loud, dramatic sigh before storming off. She grabbed a trash can and marched back, sweeping every st pte and crumb off the table and into the bin.

  “Well, how would you feel if your crush told you your food sucked?” Ruby groaned, sinking heavily onto the bench. “Just spit it out—if she thinks it sucks, then it must suck.”

  Her shoulders slumped as she stared forlornly at the now-empty table.

  “After all these years of trying to perfect cakes with alcohol, I still can’t get it right.” She buried her face in her hands. “I didn’t even know Marylin was going to be the third intern for this batch! Heather didn’t tell me—how was I supposed to know?” Ruby peeked up at me through her fingers. “Maybe if I had a few more attempts…”

  I walked over and set a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

  “Hold on. Calm down.” I tried to wrap my head around what she’d just admitted. “Are you saying that all these years you’ve been making cakes with booze… to impress Marylin?”

  Ruby peeked up at me with wide, guilty eyes and nodded.