For a single, frozen second as the thug lunged, Ji Hoon's mind didn't see a grimy alley in a fantasy world. It saw the stark, fluorescent lights of a batting cage on the outskirts of Seoul.
The memory was a physical sensation: the bone-deep weariness after a sixteen-hour day in a Michelin-starred kitchen, the stress of perfection a lead weight in his chest.
His eyes, dark and hollow from exhaustion, would fix on the pitching machine with an intense, almost desperate stare.
This was his sanctuary, the one place he didn't have to be Chef Lee Ji Hoon.
His hands, calloused from knives and burns, would grip the bat not as a novice, but with a professional's practiced ease—knuckles aligned, grip firm but not rigid, his body coiled and ready. The whir of the machine was the only sound that mattered.
It was the place where he could shut out the world, where the only problem was a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball, and the only solution was a perfect, cathartic swing.
The machine would thwump, launching the ball. His entire world would narrow to that white sphere hurtling toward him. He'd shift his weight, his hips leading the swing in a powerful, fluid rotation—
—THWACK!
The sound in the alley was brutally solid, a sharp crack of wood against jawbone that echoed the memory perfectly. The force of the impact vibrated up Ji Hoon's arms, a sensation he hadn't felt in years but his body and soul remembered intimately. The thug's head snapped to the side, his eyes rolling back as he crumpled to the cobblestones.
For a heartbeat, the entire alley fell into a stunned silence, the ongoing scuffle seeming to pause as everyone stared at the fallen man and the noble standing over him with a rolling pin.
In the center of it all, Ji Hoon stood, chest heaving. Muscle memory, older than this body, took over. He let the rolling pin rest on his shoulder, the way he'd seen—and been—a baseball enthusiast watching a home run.
With his other hand, he raked his fingers through his short silver hair, pushing it back in a frustrated, adrenaline-fueled motion that was pure Lee Ji Hoon.
He let out a sharp sigh, a puff of air in the tense quiet. Then he looked up, his ocean-blue eyes now cool and sharp as ice, scanning the remaining thugs. The nervous noble was gone. In his place stood someone calm, focused, and dangerously unpredictable.
As the two thugs blocking Ione stood frozen in shock, she used the moment to twist free from their slackened grasp, darting to her young master's side. When she reached Ji Hoon, she saw a flash of intense fire in his ocean-blue eyes—a look of cold, focused determination she had never seen before.
"Are you okay?" Ji Hoon asked, his voice low and steady.
Ione could only manage a quick, silent nod, her words stolen by the sheer shock of what had just happened. A faint, reassuring smile touched Ji Hoon's lips.
The other thugs stared at their fallen comrade, his eyes rolled back into his head, the whites stark against the grime of the alley. Gnashing his teeth, Hansel erupted, spittle flying from his mouth with unrestrained fury.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, STANDING THERE?! DEAL WITH THEM! THEY'RE JUST A NOBLE AND HIS PET!"
Shaken from their stupor, the thugs tensed, their weapons rising as they began to advance once more.
Ione dropped back into her defensive stance, claws bared, and Ji Hoon slowly raised his rolling pin. He leaned in close, his voice a whisper meant for her ears alone.
"I'm going to use that."
Ione's pupils dilated as understanding dawned. A sharp, knowing smile replaced her look of worry. "I understand, Young Master."
As one, they turned to face the charging thugs, a new, unshakable confidence uniting them.
"For anyone who finish that brat for me, I'll treat him personally!" Hansel shouted showing the thugs the pouch with money Alister had given him. The thugs who saw the money, their eyes sparkled ready to finish whatever obstacle in front of them.
As the thugs surged forward, Ji Hoon's eyes narrowed.
Instantly, translucent status windows flickered before his vision, highlighting weaknesses in glowing text:
======
[Old Leg Injury - Left Knee]
[Over-relies on Right Hand]
[Weapon - bat and a pocket knife in his pockets]
[Poor Balance]...
======
"Ione, the one on the left favors his right. Sweep his left leg." Ji Hoon whispered.
Ione moved like lightning, a whirlwind of red hair and sharp claws. She ducked under a clumsy swing, and just as Ji Hoon predicted, her foot hooked behind the thug's left knee. A sickening pop echoed as he screamed and collapsed.
Two more thugs bypassed her flurry, charging straight for Ji Hoon. He stood his ground, calm amidst the chaos.
"Retrieve... All-Purpose Flour."
A small sack materialized in his hand. In one fluid motion, he ripped it open and hurled the contents into the faces of the oncoming thugs.
A cloud of white exploded, blinding them. They stumbled, coughing and swiping at their eyes. Ji Hoon didn't hesitate.
He stepped into the cloud, his rolling pin cracking against a vulnerable knee (
He spun to block a cudgel from a third, but the rolling pin, stressed from the impacts, finally splintered in his hands with a loud CRACK.
The thug who had struck it grinned, thinking Ji Hoon was disarmed. "Now you're done for!"
Ji Hoon simply smiled. "Retrieve... Cast Iron Skillet."
A heavy, black pan appeared in his grip as if it had always been there. He swung it in a short, brutal arc. CLANG! The sound was deep and resonant, like a gong. The thug's eyes crossed, and he dropped like a stone.
Back-to-back, Ji Hoon and Ione moved in sync. Despite a few scratches, they were a whirlwind of improvised culinary violence. Soon, a small army of groaning thugs littered the alley, dusted in flour and surrounded by scattered utensils.
Hansel watched, his face purpling with rage. 'How?! How are a spoiled noble and a scrawny slave girl taking down my best men?!'
His composure shattered completely. A twisted smile stretched his lips. "Looks like I have to use 'him'," he whispered.
From the shadows behind him, a silhouette emerged. The man was a mountain of muscle, towering over everyone, his face a blank slate of brute force. Hansel pointed a trembling finger at Ji Hoon, who was just deftly tripping a thug with a retrieved spatula.
"Deal with him," Hansel commanded.
The brute lunged. He was deceptively fast. A massive fist, like a sledgehammer, shot toward Ji Hoon's head. Ji Hoon barely had time to think,
"Retrieve... Pot Lid!!!"
A large, circular lid of polished metal appeared in his hands. He braced himself.
BOOOOM!
The impact was colossal. The sound wasn't a sharp crack but a deep, bell-like reverberation that shook the very air. The force sent Ji Hoon skidding backward, his arms numb. The lid had saved him from a broken skull, but the shockwave still rattled his bones.
'Damn! I can't block another one of those, I need to think of something to deal with him, quick!' Ji Hoon thought, his mind racing. Ione tried to reach him, but the last four of the thugs dog-piled her, holding her back.
Ji Hoon's eyes darted around, landing on a dark, dead-end corner of the alley. An idea, absurd and brilliant, sparked.
He turned and ran, leading the brute directly into the confined space.
Hansel laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Hah! You've trapped yourself; you fool!"
The brute cornered Ji Hoon, his shadow swallowing the smaller man. He raised his fist for the final blow. Ione screamed.
But Ji Hoon didn't look scared. He looked... curious. He smiled up at the giant.
"Hey, you!" Ji Hoon called out.
The brute, conditioned to follow commands, paused, his fist hovering in the air. He grunted, his voice a low rumble. "What?"
"Do you like Cherry Pottage?"
The brute blinked, his face a mask of pure confusion. "...I do."
"They're fantastic, aren't they?" Ji Hoon continued conversationally, as if they weren't in a life-or-death struggle. "The secret is cooking them in a thick, metallic pot. It distributes the heat perfectly, you see. If you ever want to make it in the wild, you should always carry one. A big one is best."
Hansel, veins bulging on his forehead, shrieked, "FINISH HIM! STOP LETTING HIM SPOUT NONSENSE!"
Meanwhile, as Hansel yelled, Ji Hoon whispered, "Retrieve... Large Metal Pot."
The brute, annoyed by the shouting and confused by the cooking lesson, decided to end it. He roared and lunged forward, his fist driving down with all his might.
At that exact moment, a shimmering light materialized ten feet directly above the brute's head. A massive, heavy, cast-iron cooking pot dropped like a meteor.
BONNNNGGGG!
The pot landed perfectly over the brute's head and shoulders, encasing him in a bell of dark metal. A single, deafening chime echoed through the alley. The giant stood frozen for a second, then his eyes rolled back, and he teetered forward, crashing to the ground with a earth-shaking THUD, the pot still firmly wedged on his head.
Silence.
Just then, Ione delivered a final spinning kick, sending the last of her thugs tumbling.
"H-How did a pot appear th-there...?" Hansel felt like he lost his mind seeing the pot had appeared out of thin air, but he couldn't focus on it yet, cause two people came into his view.
Ione and Ji Hoon stood panting, surrounded by the flour-dusted, utensil-strewn battlefield.
They both turned their eyes to Hansel, who was backing away, his face a portrait of utter disbelief and terror.
"Now, wait just a moment," he stammered, holding up his hands. "We can work something out! There's no need for—"
BING!
Ji Hoon, without a word, swung the cast-iron skillet still in his hand. It connected with Hansel's temple with a clean, satisfying, metallic ping. The slaver's eyes immediately glazed over, and he collapsed into a heap, joining his unconscious crew.
The alley was quiet once more, dusted in white flour like a bizarre winter had fallen. The unconscious forms of Hansel and his thugs were strewn about like discarded sacks of grain. Ione caught her breath, her wide eyes taking in the scene with amazement.
"What a waste of ingredient and utensil. Tsk-Tsk." Ji Hoon said his breathy heavy and panting. "I need reimbursement don't you think?" he said to Hansel's unconscious body.
He stood over the groaning leader, Hansel, who was just beginning to stir. With the calm efficiency of a chef tallying the day's receipts, Ji Hoon knelt and deftly retrieved the heavy coin pouch, Hansel used earlier to motivate the thugs from the man's inner pocket.
He stood, loosened the drawstring, and poured a few coins into his palm. His gaze swept the chaotic scene—the flour-coated thugs, the utensils, the laid down big brute with the metallic pot on top of him.
"Let's see..." he muttered, almost to himself, his voice a model of serene calculation. "Forty coins for the premium All-purpose flour. Sixty for the metal pan. Another sixty for the rolling pin made from the Atricia tree and the specially custom-made metallic pot... Hmm."
He gave the pouch a slight, knowing jingle. A faint, satisfied smile touched his lips. He then poured the entire contents—a satisfying clatter of silver and gold—into his own pocket, leaving a single, lonely bronze coin in the now-empty pouch.
The leader's eyes fluttered still dazed out. Ji Hoon's face looking down at him with an expression of bland courtesy.
"This should cover it," Ji Hoon said, his tone utterly deadpan. He leaned down and placed the pouch with the single bronze coin squarely on the man's chest. The coin was visibly dusted with white flour.
Just then, Adrine rounded the corner, her sword drawn and armor slightly scuffed from dispatching the other group.
She skidded to a halt, her sharp eyes taking in the defeated thugs, the unharmed Ione, and Ji Hoon standing there, cool as a cucumber, depositing a single coin on a defeated man.
"What happened here...?" she muttered.
Ione, her initial shock wearing off, looked at Ji Hoon with sheer, unadulterated admiration. "Young Master... how did you take down all of those guys and how are you so good at calculating all that so quickly?"
Ji Hoon turned to her, his smile finally reaching his eyes as he brushed a speck of flour from his sleeve. "Let's call it luck and a good cook always keeps a precise inventory. It's basic cost management."
With a final, dismissive glance at the sputtering thug leader, Ji Hoon gestured to Adrine and Ione. "Shall we? I believe breakfast is waiting."
Ione and Adrine followed their young master's order, still dumbfounded. As the trio walked away, leaving a trail of floury footprints, the alley fell into a stunned silence, broken only by Hansel's ragged, furious breaths.
*
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A/N: Extra Bonus Scene:
A few minutes later, the second group of thugs—the ones Adrine had handled—stumbled into the alley, bruised, battered, and groaning. They found their boss and comrades in a flour-dusted state.
One of the newcomers' leader, Jonny, his greasy bangs disheveled, groaned as he helped his boss sit up. "Stars, boss... what happened? Looks like a kitchen exploded on you lot."
Hansel clutched his throbbing head, the memory of the humiliation flooding back. "Shut your damn mouth," he grumbled.
Jonny gave a pained, hopeful grin. "Well, at least the payday from that noble will be good. So... you're treating us to drinks tonight, right?"
Hansel's hand instinctively shot to his pocket, seeking the comforting weight of the coin pouch to reassert his authority. His fingers closed on empty, crumpled cloth.
"You worthless...! it's... it's..."
His face paled. He patted his chest, his other pocket, his expression growing more frantic with each passing second.
His men watched, confused, as he scrambled to his feet, turning his pockets inside out in a panic. A single, flour-dusted bronze coin clinked to the cobblestones, spinning in a lazy circle before settling.
He stared at it, his body trembling with the dawning, absolute horror of his loss. Then, he let out a roar of pure, unadulterated fury that echoed through the entire district.
"WHERE THE HELL IS ALL MY MONEY?!!!"