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Wielding a knife. Minjeong has had plenty of uses. From carving to deboning, being a chef in the metropolitan area has needed her mastery.
But her training beforehand isn’t like other cooks on the line. Unconventional. Not necessarily new, but uncommon. The meat she has cut through before is less beef. More…human.
Rather than her trusty chef’s knife that she sharpens every week, her butterfly knife used to be her right hand weapon. The blade, stainless steel and inscribed with the Kim Household insignia, had a glistening, ivory grip. Like the etching on her blade, her grip was decorated in an intricate pattern of matte gold—and it caught her eye every time she idled and played with it. But now, it’s retired like she is.
She doesn’t kill anymore. She hasn’t needed to since her dismissal.
Her family calls it an honorable discharge to make her feel better about it, but Minjeong knows she was cut out of the fabric the rest of her family was made out of because she couldn’t be one of them. Cutthroat like them. Merciless like them.
While she can usually meet their standards without lifting a finger, she would do more than lift her finger for the woman who changed her life. She left the life she knew, following her instincts and abandoning everything she knew.
Karina came to her under fluorescent lights and a high moon. Minjeong was a little worse for wear, with a split lip and her nose freshly pushed back into place. But the other guy was freshly out of an eye, pierced from her beloved butterfly knife, Jorangie, and clawed out by her own hand.
Her hands, dry and slightly cracked from the way she had to scrub them clean, looked worse than her face—blooming bruises on her knuckles and the fading remnant of someone’s teeth that desperately gnawed at her hand in their fight. She remembers sagging her shoulders, her oversized bomber jacket, and using its sleeves to hide the condition of her hands. While she would have normally wrapped them, she was tired from the night’s work, helping the clean up team that her father usually sent for her dispatched targets.
It was supposed to be a quick run to CUL8R. Satisfy her craving for delectable, quick and sodium-loaded, ramen. Indulge and have a crisp Pepsi. She deserved it.
The cold can was heaven for her raw hands, like ice for a wound. Then, the distinct click and stop of heels next to her. Burgundy, cat-eye manicured nails wrapped around a bright green Sprite can.
Karina stood next to her looking like she came from a pictorial, obviously a woman with the comfy plush of wealth from the way she was dressed. She wore this black Prada leather mini skirt, the glinting of a dainty chain resting on her hip. Dark red roses, a bouquet of flowers in her hand, turned the completely boring and normal convenience store into something eye-catching. Her red lips smirked at her like she knew something Minjeong didn’t know about and she was dying to find out.
Enticing.
Minjeong could never forget the absolute shamelessness that struck her. With a brashness she would never demonstrate, always preferring to be in the shadows, she stayed magnetized to her—a slow crawl of her eyes up and down her body.
(And then she looked at herself. Rugged, black asphalt and concrete on her dirty jeans and scuffed up shoes.
It took pure shamelessness to breathe beside Karina when she looked the way she did. Corset tops became Minjeong’s favorite thing that night. It was a revelation.)
Her girlfriend’s first words to her were: “Are you debating now?”
And then she laughed—giggled, really. Low, but playful, charming in a terribly disarming way. Her cheeks had these whisker dimples as she smiled, satin lips in a cheeky grin.
Minjeong thought she knew all about disarming, but Karina knew it differently than her—mastered it differently than her.
Changed her fucking life right then and there.
Interest grew, even more when Karina leaned closer to her, recommending a skin cream for dry hands in a whisper.
“I’ll carry it with me all the time so that the next time I see you, I’ll give it to you.”
That was the kind of person Karina was. Jimin is. Unfathomably personable and breathtakingly good. She’s the kind of person that feels good for you, right from the moment she sets her eyes on you.
Minjeong had been the lucky winner that night.
It was a kindness Minjeong never thought of asking for, consideration she didn’t know could exist. And maybe it made her unfazed, steely heart sway. Maybe Jimin’s sincerity and zealous approach to life was so tangible it moved her. Because she did something a girl deeply-rooted in a gang should never do, drastically out of character for someone who claims to only keep a phone for the sake of her employment.
“How about I give you my number?” Minjeong smirks, her split lips stinging from the moment. “Tell me when you wanna see me, give it to me then. I can return a meal to you.”
Karina’s bright eyes, mischievous and playful, and the lazy upturn of her lips smile at her. “It doesn’t seem fair. Make it a date and I’ll think about calling you.”
Cunning. Sharp as a whip. Minjeong could feel it in the air that surrounded her. A shark in a pool different from hers.
A scoffed puff of laughter and Minjeong rolls her eyes. “What makes you think I want to date you?”
“You don’t look like the type to give your number out.” Jimin luxuriously scans over her, deliberately and slow, “You can tell me if I’m wrong, but you want me. You’re a little roughed up, but I don’t mind it. It’s kinda hot, honestly.”
Minjeong drinks Karina in one last time before taking Jimin’s phone offered to her.
She could take her in a fight. What’s the worst she could do to her?
Fuck it!
Nothing spectacular, but Karina became her girlfriend after their first date. Jimin became the love of her life and Minjeong knew it before she even met her parents. Despite how much Jimin talked about her family, she was slow to suggest an introduction. It never bothered Minjeong—privacy and secrets were things she held carefully and dutifully. She could respect distance in the places Jimin was putting them. It’s not like she wasn’t hiding her own baggage, either.
But, just as Jimin came to know her secret, Minjeong finally met her parents.
This is where it becomes spectacular.
There aren’t many Karina’s where she lives. The images of her that littered her internet search confirmed any doubts. There isn’t much about her family—Minjeong could guarantee there was something intentional about that. It was impossible to find a thing about them. It was too clean.
But, Minjeong wasn’t left with nothing.
Yoo Karina, the CFO to a strangely lucrative business of renting out ferns and greens for weddings and events, was largely known for her impressive performance in rolling out modern initiatives to streamline their operations. She was lauded by the grittiest of business tycoons, often earned invitations to conferences, and dined glamorous dinners for her sponsorship and attention. Though she was a nepotism baby to the core, she earned the respect of her peers around her.
They are both princesses in their own right. Minjeong, a direct descent from the Samhyeon generation, and Jimin, the daughter of the city’s infamous conglomerate whose name could be found in streets, amphitheaters sponsored largely by the Yoo’s. Generations have never skipped on having a Yoo Empire erected taller than the rest despite the most prestigious contenders of their time. It extends past Jimin’s family, her uncle having his own piece to their brand. Their stamp is everywhere.
They are both the youngest of their families, babied and loved, spoiled to hell.
They have their differences. They have plenty to bicker about. But they meet unwaveringly eye to eye on one thing.
This beautiful, wonderful little thing they got between them.
Minjeong never imagined getting in a relationship. It was never in her focus, not even a thing for her scope to consider. She had no interest. Then Jimin came and suddenly, Minjeong knew what it meant to want.
For a lot of her life, she followed her father’s footsteps, right after her brother. She did the things they did, trained the way they trained, shut off and locked in the way they did. She soaked every bit in—the mannerisms, the armor she needs to wear to protect herself and call it nonchalance. Confidence. She became it because no one expects small, wiry girls like her to have a favorite knife and know how to use it, know anatomy and all the ways to break it. It’s not a hobby, it’s a lifestyle. She has done everything needed to earn their respect. She has learned how to numb herself, to kill it and leave it as it is. It’s for family.
Enter Jimin and it’s like her world is torn apart, a new shape in her universe that demands Jimin stay in it.
Minjeong, for the first time in her life, considered making some changes. Jimin lived a blissfully normal life. Her eyes have never seen death, her hands have never felt life slip right out from under it. She cries whenever she sees those stray animal videos, stresses about not knowing how to wear her hair or if she’s wearing the right shade of blue.
She takes these flights to far off places just to run from her feelings, even if it’s only for a day. She could escape her version of suffering with a single swipe of her card, scan of her face. Her girl swims in plush luxury, she’s never needed to lift a finger in her life. Of course, she’s earned her fair share of achievements, but her name carries its weight.
All that disappearing to do reconnaissance, lying about her whereabouts and what she’s doing. It was tiring. She hated lying to Jimin—she didn’t deserve it. Just because Minjeong was technically employed as her family’s enforcer and hitwoman, she still had morals. She knew it was unfair to Jimin to hide this part of her life from her.
On the night she planned to tell Jimin about her extracurricular activities, she administered a little liquid courage to get the gall to change the trajectory of their lives.
Things were starting to get serious. Minjeong could stand to be so selfish to take a near year of Jimin’s life, take her affection and love like she was entitled to it. She couldn’t help feeling possessive. She learned from the men in her life, after all. It takes a wary, snapping kind of possessiveness to protect their underground empire the way that they have.
She couldn’t help but want to be loved back by the first girl she’s come to love.
There are worse crimes she committed, but this was one Minjeong felt most guilty about.
Only to find out she had nothing to be guilty about.
~.~.~
FLASHBACK
A relentless buzzing and vibration spills in her reverie like water trickling in her ear. Frowning in displeasure, she grunts when she realizes it’s her phone ringing.
jiminie unnie
A shot of espresso.
“Hi, unnie,” she sing-songs, a little slur and wobble in her voice. “What’s up?”
“Minjeong-ah,” Jimin says, and Minjeong imagines a winced smile just by the airiness of her breath. “My parents are coming to surprise me at home. I only know because I’m secretly tracking them. I’m expecting a text from them soon asking for me. ” She stresses, “And they’re definitely a couple of turns away from my place.” She breaks into a whine, “They’ll reach before me. I know we definitely didn’t plan this and I don’t exactly know if you’re ready to meet my parents-”
She’s not. Fuck, she’s buzzed. She’s in no condition to meet her future in-laws.
“...take my car to get home. I’ll come get you in one of my other cars in my parents’ garage tomorrow. I’m so sorry, baby. I know you wanted to tell me something important tonight, but I can’t stop them when they’ve made up their minds.”
It’s sweet Jimin’s warning her and being so apologetic about it, but there’s no way in hell she’s stepping foot near Jimin’s sleek, pretty, little Porsche when she’s been drinking. She has to get to cleaning up her traces and phoning one of her contacts to fetch her.
“Don’t worry about it, Jiminie,” she ends her girlfriend’s ramble hastily. “I gotta go and make my escape. I’ll text you when I’m home. Bye; I love you.” She laughs hearing Jimin’s sulky whine thrown at her as she hangs up on her.
jiminie unnie: i haven’t forgotten about you, baby. as soon as i’m free from my parents, i’ll make sure i’m unavailable to anyone else. i know tonight meant a lot to you. thank you for being so patient, minjeong. i love you <3
minjeong: minjeong?
jiminie unnie: honey. baby. my darling, my love, my everything.
minjeong: much better.
-
Telling Jimin, for what it’s worth, was not the disaster she was expecting it to be.
She was kind of…strangely normal about it. Like when she told Jimin she always dreamed of taking a culinary class to become a Michelin star chef.
Jimin even asked her about what she did for her family. Curious. Probing. But not alarmed.
Minjeong went the roundabout way of telling her, rambling about not actually being the twenty-second Samhyeon descent, but actually the first. The first generation that is largely known to be a torpedoing power in mumbled city talk about their crime lords moving underground chess pieces. But Jimin laughed breezily, scoffing and taunting, “Yeah, and I’m the daughter that denied the Yu Dynasty.”
Oddly specific. Strangely blase. But Jimin brushed it off and asked Minjeong if she’d like to mess around in bed before going to that stupid gala she promised Jimin she’d be at just to get away with sleeping at her place for a week straight. And, well, fuck! She hates these events. It’s overstimulating and it takes so much out of her to be in the center of it, Jimin’s arm around her waist and schmoozing all those pretentious sons of bitches she makes fun of. It stresses her out and fucking the stress out is the best method of release!
(Minjeong never once denied the hold her girl has on her. One track mind when in extreme situations. She once considered giving up her life of crime for her! And to think Jimin was just another girl. No! She’s possibly the best kept secret and Minjeong’s stumbled upon it just by following her stupidly down bad heart?
It’s unbelievable!)
Plus, the Yu Dynasty had a daughter that accepted the throne. The transition was smooth and successful. She has been doing a surprisingly impressive sweep with her new position of power. There’s a new energy around them, buzzing. They’re definitely aggressive contenders in their bubble of crime, a small family of three that Minjeong has become comfortable with through covert meetings and private get-away’s.
They’re back at it after the event, after all the fucking and mentally imaginging all the ways she could end a conversation by slitting a throat, clarity swept through her fog.
“What makes you think I was joking about that?” Jimin laughs, turning her back to have Minjeong unzip her dress. “I’ve never been more serious.”
Like a faithful disciple to her command, her nimble fingers have become responsible for all of Jimin’s zippers. Unable to deny the temptation of her skin and dotting her shoulder blades with kisses, Minjeong pulls away after a second. Unable to believe it, she shakes her head. The Yu Family was one of the best kept secrets. They had their branches rooted throughout the city, generations of Yu’s controlling a large percentage of their market. It baffles her to think the Yu’s would think of hiding one of their own. They’re too proud.
“Haha, very funny, Yoo Jimin.” She rolls her eyes, running her hands through her red wine hair, “I’m being serious.”
Jimin turns, holds Minjeong by her nape when she kisses her fleetingly. “So am I.” She kisses her again, nibbling on her bottom lip.
Minjeong pulls away with a soft gasp. “Then, I’ve met your dad. My family went golfing with the Yu’s and dragged me along. Their daughter was there. She taught me how to perfect my stroke.”
“My sister loves that shit. I hate golfing. I hate getting involved in those things they do so I don’t do it with them.” Jimin shrugs. “I have my freedom and I asked to be left out of it. I didn’t want to go. Aeri was preparing for her fashion show. I had better places to be.”
“Okay, I was there, first of all. How could there be a better place?”
“I didn’t know you,” the brunette retorts, her short hair swaying as she shakes her head. “Doesn’t count. I was just a flippant nepo baby before you, my heart. That is my only crime, my sweet, little killer.”
“Fine. I wanna meet your parents then.” Minjeong scowls at the nickname, puppy-like and melted by Jimin’s gooey smile and her mushy eyes spilling hearts with her initials inscribed on them, “You better not be fucking with me.”
“I’ve done enough of that today, don’t you think?”
Minjeong clicks her tongue, a sterner glare lasers into Jimin who awkwardly smiles a boxy grin. A raised middle finger, the same one that was inside her some hours before, “This still smells like you,” she sneers. “But guess who’s not fucking with you anymore.”
A gasp torn from her throat, and Jimin’s mouth dropping comically, “No!”
“Until you take me to meet your family, you can think about sleeping at your place.”
“Aw, Minjeong! Baby, please reconsider! I’ll phone my parents right now!”
-
Jimin’s father is exactly as Minjeong remembers. Tall and fit, well-groomed and styled to pristine cleanliness. He looks a little older but, there’s no denying he is still the same formidable man he was before—if not more intimidating and lofty. He talks to her, banters with her, like nothing glaring is in the room. Like how he’s talking about the same damn golf tournament so casually like this wasn’t the one canon event that held the love of her life back from her.
“Aw, it’s a shame our Jiminie didn’t come along to the vacation with us,” her father sighs. “Maybe she’d have found her happiness sooner. Our girl has grown beautifully since meeting you.”
Jimin’s admonished, “Dad…” falls deaf to her ears, Minjeong flushing from the weight of Jimin’s feelings thrown upon her.
Jimin’s dad laughs heartily, making a remark to his wife and getting pulled into a conversation with her.
Leaning over, “I told you,” Jimin hisses. Her hand squeezes her where she holds her thigh, the sleeves of her pink hoodie covering most of her hand. “My dad insisted on digging in on my life and found out about you before I could keep you safe. He told me all about you because he can’t help being protective. It was cute watching you lie to me. I liked seeing you struggle.”
Minjeong chokes on her breath, her heart stumbling twice. “You’re sadistic,” she spits out, her reddened cheeks softening her demeanour.
“I wanted you to tell me at your own time, baby,” Jimin coos.
“Whatever.”
“Aw, you’re feeling sulky, aren’t you?”
“Eat your food, Yu Jimin.”
Jimin laughs, loudly and getting her parents’ attention, her forehead bumping into her temple fondly, “We were kinda meant to be, don’t you think? Our lives were bound to cross.”
Suddenly winded, Minjeong breaks into a breathless smile. “Did you just call us soulmates?”
Cutely, Jimin covers her mouth, her beaming smile showing in the crinkling of her eyes. “You said it first!” She whispers excitedly, “I like being yours!”
There’s no situation where Minjeong isn’t made happy by Jimin. Even in this whirlwind, whiplash of an evening. She’s kind of her everything; she’d do anything for her.
~.~.~
It didn’t take long after the fiasco for Minjeong to make her changes. Jimin didn’t mind if she continued to pursue her advancement in her family’s gang, familiar with that role as her own mother lives it. She never asked Minjeong to change, never had concerns for the life she lives.
That made it easier. Made leaving easier.
Loving Jimin gave her a different purpose, something else for her to fixate on. She wanted to be involved in the life Jimin wanted—and that’s away from the lives their families have.
It was a slow leave from her family’s organization. With their blessing and their consent, Minjeong was relieved of her duties in a slow transition. After making sure all of her responsibilities were adequately covered for, she did the one thing she thought about doing for herself.
She applied for culinary school with an emphasis on fine dining.
She worked those long hours as a line cook, getting yelled at for holding back production, burning chicken for forgetting about it for a minute too long. She had her imperfections to work through and she spent years smoothing them out.
This was her new lifestyle. She had worked at two restaurants at one point. Breakfast and dinner, both Michelin, sometimes alternating her weeks or schedules to make the most of her time. Practice became lethal. Like any skill she needed in killing, she needs in cooking. She needs patience. She needs dedication. Practice and constant criticism. Mastery is a journey of learning, something she’s proud to do. She is always willing to chase the opportunities she finds around her, digs out and sniffs like a dog with their nose to the floor.
She strives for this enthusiastically. This is her passion. Becoming a chef is one of her most favorite decisions. She did it for herself, for a person who made her feel like herself.
As Jimin steps into her CEO role with her brother-in-law initiating a transferral of power, the electricity in her energy is palpable. According to the presser, he and his wife want to focus on their “family unit” and “having children of our own.” It’s a good thing because not only does Jimin get to run her company with keys to it in her hand, she gets the respect for it. For so long, she had silently and obediently stepped into his role as he got busier with his new responsibilities to their dynasty as her sister’s new right hand. It was time Jimin got the flowers she deserved for spearheading the business front of their operations.
Wielding a paring knife. It’s no different than Jorangie. Light, flexible, sharp and precise.
It’s not the only blade in her repertoire. Now, she handles a carving knife. She slices through a juicy strip of fatty steak, cooked to perfection with a golden sear and grill marks from its time on the cast iron.
She dresses a plate. Fluffy mashed potatoes and garlic confit, a glistening Tomahawk steak, reverse-seared and basted in rosemary and thyme compound butter, the fresh herbs fried in it as a bright layer atop the rich, fattiness of it. Topping it with parsley and a drizzle of the gravy made from the cooking fat, the dinner Minjeong had planned for Jimin comes together in an easy and relaxing flow.
She loves cooking for Jimin.
She feeds every and any mouth in the metropolitan area to foreigners around the world. But her favorite person to share her food with is her love, her Jimin—her princess who turned a little killer like her into a little chef like fucking Remy from Ratatouille.
It’s a most humbling life to live, but it’s one Minjeong loves to have.