You had only just gotten out of cooking school, so you desperately needed a job.

On a drunken tuesday night you had decided to just apply to anything. Any restaurant, whether they cooked what you liked or not, whether they had a job opening up or not, you just applied to anything in your city. Of course, the next morning was filled with regret for your half-heartedly written cover letters and how you had basically sent some of the most well-respected restaurants spam applications.

Out of 36 sent applications, only 5 replied. Three were invitations to interviews and two just said "No, thank you." .

So the next week was spent getting ready for interviews at three restaurants or varying prestige-levels. The first one was an old-school family lead restaurant that served german classics. The food you had eaten all your life, the dishes that had made you fall in love with food, with experimenting with old recipes and improving them with new ingredients, techniques and spices. So you were excited, putting your all into the preparation for the interview, even going as far as to bring some homemade cookies, the use of your grandma's recipe meant to charm your way into the owner's heart. Or at least the kitchen.

But as it turned out, the interview had just been a courtesy, the position had been way out of your reach, cookies or no cookies, they had only invited you to tell you how to properly apply to jobs so that they would actually consider you next time.

After a minor breakdown at home, you decided to put your best foot forward at the next interview. A quite prestigious french restaurant, trying to achieve it's first star. It would be a super hard job, plus you'd be cooking food you didn't like, but where better to get experience from than a restaurant that was aiming high on the culinary sky?

To everybody's surprise, the interview went very well, the boss had been impressed by the gutsy decision to apply to a high caliber restaurant right out of cooking school. So they had offered you a job. Only an apprentice, but you would be able to try out the different jobs, making it possible for you to freely decide which part of the kitchen you actually wanted to work your way up in, in the long run.

It really sounded too good to be true. So you decided to think about it. Go to the last interview and see if the other kitchen better suited your person than this fancy french place.

That night, sitting at home, you decided to do some actual research about the last restaurant, seeming you didn't bother with something as trivial as that when you actually applied to it.

The restaurant was very new, it had only been open for a few months, and many of the reviews seemed to be quite angry about the head chefs attitude.

It was a korean restaurant, something quite unusual in Germany. People here aren’t adventurous when it comes to food. Sushi is still some “stupid newfangled idea” to many of your countrymen.

But somehow, the owner and the chef had decided it would be a good idea to serve very spicy food with names the people can’t pronounce to the general public. And somehow, it was working.

While many reviews were annoyed with the attitude of the chef, all of them still loved the food. Many reviewers had written something along the lines of “When I was able to taste something through the pain, it tasted amazing.”, while those who were fine with the spice level only raved about how amazing it had tasted.

Thinking about it, you weren’t sure if you had ever tasted korean food. While japanese and chinese food where quite common by now, korean food was not. Not Yet, as this restaurant seemed to already be making headlines about their cooking, their attention to detail and their refusal to tone down their spice level for their clientele. Which had gained them a lot of respect from the culinary community. Cooking what you want and not listening to everything that the customer says, most of all in the first years of opening a new restaurant, that shows bravery…. Or stupidity.

Looking at the menu and the restaurant’s instagram, you had to admit both the food and the chef looked very tasty. Even though the chef seemed incredibly uneasy about having his picture taken, his face sourly even when he was standing arm in arm with what you had read was his best friend, the owner of the restaurant.

You were curious who you were going to meet tomorrow. The owner or the head chef?

Emptying your drink, you looked at the clock. Only 8 pm. You would’ve thought it would be later by now. But 8 pm meant restaurants should still be taking customers. So you decided to try some korean food, checking out “This Night” before going to the interview tomorrow.

Stepping into the restaurant, you are quite surprised, the minimalistic dark blue and white interior so unusual for a restaurant with prices normal people can afford. You pick a table close to the open kitchen, the almost empty restaurant making you bold enough to stare at the chef working away in his kingdom, the tall, broad-shouldered man easily spotted while he flits through the kitchen, concentrated and working circles around the other cooks.

Ripping you away from your staring, a waiter comes over with a menu.

“Good Evening, would you like to have something to drink already?” He says, smiling down at where you’re already looking at the drink menu.

“I’ll have a cola, and what would you say is the perfect introduction into korean food? I’ve never had it and would like to try it, but I don’t know where to start.” With a small laugh, you look up at the waiter, immediately cursing yourself for your words. It’s not just a waiter, it’s the owner himself, aka the man who received your CV. The man who you’re trying to get to hire yo to cook korean food, who knows what you look like, and who is now laughing at you.

“Ah, you have never had korean food? That’s too bad, but I guess Chef Kim will just have to teach you. I’m glad that you’re at least trying to inform yourself before lying to me tomorrow. I’ll talk to the chef and have him whip up something nice for you.” A bold answer to your stupidity, which makes you remember how young both the owner and the head chef are, both only in their twenties. They obviously don’t care about how restaurants usually work. As you bury your head in your hands, trying to hide the embarrassment on your face, the young man continues: “Looking at the time, I actually have to say that we close in half an hour, but since it’s you, we could pull your interview up a little bit, seeming you’re already here. You can have a drink, on the house, and then join us in the kitchen after so that we can teach you about the food. Mr. Kim gets a lot nicer after hours, so he can cook something for us while we conduct a little interview out here. Would that be okay for you?”

Overwhelmed by the beautiful man in front of you as well as the speed at which all this is happening, you just nod, still somewhat in shock.

You want to bang your head against the table in front of you as your drink arrives, the owner quickly informing you that the chef agreed to the plan as well, so you can just relax and prepare yourself for the upcoming interview. He winks at you as he leaves, pointing at the kitchen.

As you turn, you see the head chef almost hanging out of the hatch, looking at the two of you. He only waves at you before returning to what you now realize to be the beginnings of cleaning the kitchen.

So that’s why the restaurant is so empty. Cursing yourself for your stupidity again, you decide to browse instagram while you wait for what will probably be your doom.

The time goes by faster than you would’ve liked and soon the restaurant closes, the owner locking the doors before waving you over to follow him into the kitchen.

Suddenly you’re standing there, in the restaurant’s kitchen, looking around as the Chef is still busy fixing something.

“I am Kim Seokjin, nice to meet you. I heard you haven’t eaten korean food before? And you’re the cook that applied to work here, right? Why did you apply? Also, here try this, we had some leftovers from the kimchi stew we made for the team before. And I made you some Japchae to have on the side.”

He waves you over and as you try to process the wave of words he just chucked at you, you stammer out: “ Uh, nice to meet you, Chef. I am y/n y/l/n. I have never had korean food before because, to be honest, yours is the first korean restaurant I have ever seen. And I have had no contact with korean culture as far as I know so the food was never brought to my attention. Now that I checked out your website and instagram I am very interested and would like to learn. And I applied because I just got out of cooking school, I need a job.”

Behind you, you hear a short laugh, as you turn, you see the owner, a plate in hand, shoveling food into his mouth as he smiles at you, gesturing for you to go take some from the Chef.

So you take a deep breath and go over to the man who’s still whizzing around at his station, readying yourself to try some completely new food.

Hearing you approach, he quickly grabs some plates, heaping food into both, before he stops in front of you, holding the full plates out to you with a big smile.

“Which is which, and what’s in it? Wait, this looks like a stew, where’s the spoons?” Talking half to yourself, half to the cook in front of you, you set down the bowl with what must be Japchae, and look around for a spoon when one suddenly appears in your field of vision.

“There, now eat.”

You huff out a laugh at his command before you take a big spoon of the steaming hot stew, only blowing it slightly before you taste it.

The spice hits you like a truck, and you can’t help but cough a little. This is not the kind of spice you’re used to. Where you’re from, white pepper is deemed spicy.

At your reaction, the man’s shoulders sag, his expression suddenly only full of disappointment, as you take a deep breath, trying to get through the spicyness.

And then you take another spoonful, and another, and another. And his smile gets bigger with each one, since, although it takes you a while, you are obviously enjoying what you’re eating.

“Ok, so in the stew, we have some pork belly, some tofu, kimchi obviously and some shiitake, as well as onion, green onion, garlic, mirin and soy sauce. Oh, and quite some chili as you noticed.” He says with a smile, counting up the ingredients in his mind as he looks at you.

“ Now try the Japchae, please. It’s my special version, so I can’t tell you what’s in it until you sign the contract. It’s also less spicy, so it’ll give you a little breather after the kimchi stew.”

He holds out a pair of chopsticks that seem to have appeared from nowhere, and again, that smile. You almost choke on your last spoonful of stew at that smile.

As you dig into the Japchae, your eyes widen with surprise. “It’s amazing. This is probably some of the tastiest food I’ve ever had. Thank you, Chef.”

Both of the men are now laughing, the man who introduced himself as Kim Seokjin pointing at his friend behind you: “I told you, Joon. I could get anyone with my japchae. Now do your little fake interview so I can start to train her tomorrow.”

This time, you do choke. “Fake interview ”... what’s that supposed to mean?

You turn around, pulling up your brow since your mouth is still too full to speak. The owner just looks back and forth between the chef and you and says something in korean, a mocking grin on his face at the shocked gasp that leaves the taller man’s mouth.

Seconds later, Seokjin pulls the bowl out of your hands, ignoring your small whine. “You will join our team, right? We could really need the help of someone who actually enjoys our food.”

You think about it, but it doesn’t take long for the obvious answer to pop up, crystal clear in your mind. This is way better than some fancy french restaurant. The owner and the Chef seem like great people and even if the spice needs some getting used to, it’s still some of the best food you’ve ever had. So you nod. And earn a bright-as-the-sun smile for it, which you can’t help but return.

Suddenly you hear a voice behind you: “ If you like her so much why don’t invite her over for some ramyeon?” At your confused face, the owner smacks his own forehead. Which makes him miss the fact that his friend just threw a spoon at him, which hits him in the shoulder.

As your eyes fly back and forth between the two “grown men” the chef just waves you off. “Go sign the contract so that you can go home and I can clean the kitchen for tonight. Work starts tomorrow at 12. Don’t be late.” And with that, he turns away, busying himself with putting food in takeaway boxes and cleaning up the rest of the dishes. So you turn away and follow the owner to the dining room, to sign your contract.

A few minutes later, you have a job. And as it turns out, the opening you applied for was sous-chef. Leaving you with an amazing job without any experience under your belt, but with what seems to be two great colleagues.

As you say goodbye to the owner, who unlocks the front door to let you out, you stutter trying to remember his name. “Uh, Goodbye Mr…” At your panicked eyes, his face drops. “Oh , I never introduced myself, huh? I am Kim Namjoon, nice to meet you. We will be expecting you tomorrow at 12 for prep. Good Night y/n.”