CHAPTER 16: CONNECTIONS

It felt like I had already been waiting for hours since the cameras stopped rolling and Chef Maxwell's

staff helped us in cleaning our stations. However, the results were still not in.

"Man, that was really tough," I heard Matt saying as he wiped the counter. "But you did amazing, Jiwoo.

Did you have proper training?"

Jiwoo shook his head. "I've been working in the kitchen ever since I was young."

"Cool! You have a family restaurant?"

Jiwoo shook his head again. "I started out as a dishwasher at a fast-food joint."

Matt stopped in his tracks. "No way."

"It's true," Jiwoo said as he continued to wash his utensils and, from the looks of it, Matt's as well. The

motherfucker had not bothered asking for mine. "Chow King, to be exact."

"I can't believe it. You look like a rich guy!"

Jiwoo snickered but didn't answer.

"You look like a Korean model, and your English is not bad!"

"Do you have to be rich to speak English well?"

Not really, I thought. But let's face it—even intelligent people from poorer backgrounds speak bad

English. Wait, why the hell am I eavesdropping? I should ignore them.

"A lot of us poorer guys speak good English," Jiwoo started. "Not because we want to, but because we

have to. For example, call centers are a good source of income, so we hustle."

"Seriously, though, I never pegged you for a commoner."

Did this guy seriously use the word 'commoner'? Content is © by .

"Chef Maxwell's training is costly as fuck," he continued. "I thought everyone who applied can shell out

some cash since the fees are more than half a million!"

Half a million. The amount stupid me gave away to that fucktard JM.

The fucktard JM and the fucktards at DBA. God, I thought this cooking thing would help me forget. I

guess it was too early for that.

"It doesn't mean I can't save up for it, right?" Jiwoo said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Matt laughed. "Save for it? How much do you earn in a month? Let's say thirty thousand tops. So how

many years do you have to starve to save half a million? Fifteen, give or take a few? It's practically

impossible, man. Unless you sleep with the likes of Tita Gay or Vice Ghandi, you'll never get that

amount!"

Christ, someone stop me from slapping Matt. That's the rudest comment I have ever heard anyone say

out loud.

"Yeah, I am, actually. I'll let you suck me off for 50 grand," Jiwoo retorted.

"What the fu—?"

"Fuck? You want to fuck? You need to pay a hundred grand for that."

"Fuck you, man!" Matt said, his face red in anger.

"No good, man. My ass is sacred, so only my dick's for hire," said Jiwoo, chuckling. "And I didn't peg

you for a top, not with all the effort you put in trying to mask that sissy voice of yours."

Wow. That was an Academy Award-winning comeback! I was totally cheering for Jiwoo at that point.

Matt's an elitist bigot, and he deserved every insult in the book.

I wanted to butt in and support Jiwoo, fire a nasty remark or two. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I

was still angry at what Jiwoo had done to me earlier.

"We're back in 1 minute!" said a familiar voice over the megaphone.

I finished tidying up my work station and my remaining three domed crème caramels sitting neatly near

the edge. I looked around and saw everyone's anxious faces. Only Jiwoo looked calm and composed,

not a strand of hair out of place.

"And we're back! It's time to announce the winners!" came the voice of the comedian host. "Let me

remind everyone that Chef Maxwell will be choosing four apprentices. They will have their dishes

tasted by our celebrity judges waiting for us at the restaurant. And out of those four, the best chef will

receive a full scholarship from Chef Maxwell!"

Chef Maxwell was nowhere in sight. He was probably inside the restaurant, sitting with the celebrity

judges.

"And here come the envelopes," Vanilla announced teasingly. "Our first finalist is..." he said as he

opened the first one. There were literal drumrolls, although I didn't see any drums. They must've been

coming from the sound system. "Nicholas Martin!"

I clapped, but no one else did. And I died a little bit inside.

"Our next apprentice is none other than Jiwoo Miguel Garcia, my favorite contestant!" cried Vanilla.

"Yummy food, equally yummy chef!"

Everyone giggled at his joke. Jiwoo was grinning from ear to ear. It was his smile of pure evil again. But

did Vanilla just say 'Jiwoo Miguel'? What kind of name was that? Judging from his family name, I'd say

he's Filipino. But he has Korean features, and his name's partly Korean, too.

"Even if he feeds me with just hotdogs and sausages, I will still happily marry him!" There were roars of

laughter at the sexual innuendo. "Anyway, moving on. Our third apprentice is...Vivian Marie Tan!"

The next one will probably be Matt, the bigoted asshole. I had done my best. I had actually done pretty

well, if not for Jiwoo.

But what's done was done. I should just clear the air off between us. He's pretty cool, in my opinion,

especially after I saw what he did to Matt. I figured he had some issues with rich guys. Coming from the

lower echelons of middle class, I perfectly understood how he felt.

I turned to Jiwoo to congratulate him. Suddenly, he looked at me, and he had an unfathomable look on

his face.

"And the last one is Ben Jamin Alvarez! Congratulations to our four chosen apprentices! You may now

proceed to the restaurant for your final tasting."

"Congrats," Jiwoo said, suddenly smiling. "You deserve it. You were awesome to watch."

What? Was he really talking to me?

"And I'm terribly sorry for your cake. I was so happy with how my meat turned out that I accidentally

bumped into you. I never even had the chance to apologize."

"Off you go, apprentices!"

"Let's go," he said, nudging my shoulder to the direction of the restaurant. "I'm glad it's you and not that

asshole," he continued as we walked. "You're not mad at me, are you? Come on, say something."

I was still having a hard time processing what was happening, but I shook my head. "I'm not."

"That's a relief. I'm sorry for how I acted last week. Before the finals."

"I would've reacted the same way if I were in your shoes."

When Jiwoo smiled, my proverbial panties practically melted off my body. He was absolutely my type,

even more so than that gold-digging JM. Majority of my exes are Koreans because of my stay there,

and perhaps that's the reason I was crushing hard on Jiwoo.

And now that I was seeing his non-asshole side, he was becoming more and more attractive to me.

The inside of the restaurant was exactly how I had remembered it. It was the personification of its

name, Hacienda. The roof, made of completely transparent polycarbonate roofing, bathed the interior in

plenty of natural light. The whole place looked like a clearing in a forest, complete with a grass-covered

floor and a manmade stream that split it into two.

All the other tables were empty, except for one in the center under a eucalyptus tree. Trish Aquino, Tita

Gay Abundance, and Vice Ghandi were all there, seated together with Chef Maxwell. It made me

wonder—is Chef Maxwell gay? His friends definitely are, even Trish Aquino. I mean, she's biologically

female, but she's a gay guy at heart.

All four of us stood a few meters away from the table, and the comedian host announced, "Let the final

tasting begin!"

Chef Maxwell snapped his fingers, and a server came bringing in three plates.

"For starters, we have simple yet elegant boiled eggs with soldiers, cooked for us by Apprentice Nico,"

Chef Maxwell said, addressing the judges. Nico gave them a friendly wave. "He expertly infused saffron

into the pieces of bread as well as the moist breadcrumbs underneath, and he incorporated some

smoked duck along with roasted asparagus for a rather complex flavor profile."

The judges devoured Nico's dish, and they all expressed extreme satisfaction in unison. Afterward,

they wrote down their scores and slid them inside envelopes before passing them to Chef Maxwell.

"We have two entrees today. The first one is made by our one and only princess, Apprentice Vivi."

The judges didn't look too impressed when they saw her punk-style outfit, tattoos, and piercings.

"Vivi made us, yet again, a simple but elegant poached lobster tails, with a lobster broth, butter, and

tarragon reduction and roasted cauliflowers. Dig in!"

There was no mistaking the look of amazement on the judges' faces as they tried Vivi's dish, with Trish

A. scraping off the last remnants of her sauce. I could hear them commenting how perfectly cooked the

lobster tail was and how flavorful the accompanying sauce was. They wrote down their scores and

gave the closed envelopes to Chef Maxwell.

"Our second entrée hits close to home as Apprentice Jiwoo here cooked for us a traditional yet

elevated lechon kawali with a special dipping sauce, a side of plum-infused jasmine rice, and an

amazing atchara."

The judges lost it the moment they tasted the pork belly. They couldn't stop eating, but even with their

mouths full, they kept commenting about how great the flavor, texture, and aroma of Jiwoo's dish were.

"I've never tasted anything like this!" cried Trish A. "It's extremely tender on the inside, so it melts in my

mouth right after that unbelievably crispy layer on the outside."

"This is as delicious as the chef who made it!" Tita Gay remarked, to everyone's amusement. "I'm not

joking! This tastes heavenly, as I'm sure Chef Jiwoo does!"

When they had settled down after fangirling slash fangaying over Jiwoo's good looks and exceptional

cooking talent, they wrote down their scores and submitted the envelopes to Chef Maxwell.

"And now, dessert!" Chef Maxwell announced, which made the three judges cheer loudly. "Our dessert

today was made by Apprentice BJ. He created a—"

"Oh my god!" cried Vice Ghandi and Trish A. in unison.

"That is haute cuisine!" exclaimed Tita Gay.

"Yes, it's quite pretty, isn't it?" said Chef Maxwell with a chuckle. "As I was saying, this is not your

typical leche flan. This is BJ's Domed Crème Caramel that is simple but unbelievably elegant!"

"I don't want to eat it. I feel like it's a crime to eat something this pretty," Trish A said. "Hi, BJ! I love your

dish! Faye was right about you. You should come to my house and have lunch with me some time!"

The three apprentices gave me strange looks, even Jiwoo. I understood why. They were probably

thinking that I was going to win because I'm friends with the judges. Fuck.

I just smiled weakly and nodded at Trish.

"Let's take Instagram photos!" suggested Vice Ghandi.

The three judges and Chef Maxwell took selfies with my crème caramels. It took them 15 long minutes

before settling down and picking up their dessert spoons. They let out cries of agony as they unwillingly

broke the caramel domes. Those were quickly replaced by an endless stream of "Wow!" and

"Unbelievable!" as the judges licked their plates clean.

Without any prompt whatsoever, they started writing their scores and handed over the last batch of

envelopes to Chef Maxwell.

When all that was done, the host approached Chef Maxwell and gave him a piece of paper and an

envelope as well.

"Chef Maxwell will now be writing his pick, which will only be considered in the event of a tie."

They all sent us to the conference room adjacent to the kitchen. We were told that the celebrity judges

had left together with Chef Maxwell. A few minutes later, the restaurant manager came in.

"Hi everyone," she greeted. "It's my pleasure to inform you that we have finished compiling the results."

I bowed my head. I was scared because I actually had a shot at winning. Of course I wanted to come

out victorious, but because of what had happened, if I won, I would just get accused of using my

connections again. And besides, I didn't need that scholarship at all.

"Congratulations to Mr. Benjamin Alvarez!" she announced.

I really wanted to be happy at that moment, but I only felt terrible. I raised my head to acknowledge it

and saw both Nico and Vivi smiling. Jiwoo's face, on the other hand, was unreadable.