M 142

Side Story 1: Eternal Snow 1

– Eternal snow, meaning snow that doesn’t melt throughout all four seasons, can commonly be seen in high-latitude regions or on mountains with low temperatures and high altitudes. At first glance, it may seem like snow that has already fallen doesn’t melt due to the cold weather, but it is a phenomenon created by the constant repetition of melting and sublimation due to the meeting of cold air and radiant heat, resulting in the formation of new particles…

It had been quite a while since something other than children’s songs played on the TV. Sehwa was absentmindedly listening to the documentary narration when he suddenly jumped up at the oven’s alarm. Steam was rising from the freshly baked bread. He spun the tray around to check its overall shape, and it had risen beautifully without a single flaw.

“It looks fine on the outside.”

He blew on his hands and tore off a small piece to taste.

“Wow. It’s really delicious…”

Sehwa, who had been pretending to look serious with a stern expression, broke into a broad smile. This seemed like the best bread he’d made so far.

After all, the basics are the most important thing in anything. Even when learning hwatu, one spends the first few months just practicing reading the cards, and when rolling drugs, they first master the measuring techniques perfectly. Baking wouldn’t be any different. Could someone who can’t even bring out the basic flavor of bread succeed with other types?

That’s why Sehwa had been dedicating himself to building his fundamentals lately. For about a month after starting baking, he had been excitedly choosing only difficult-named and fancy-looking varieties to challenge himself with, but he later came to his senses and returned to basics.

The powder-measuring ability he had been confident about to Ki Tae-jeong wasn’t much help in baking. This was an era with flying cars. He belatedly realized that if precise measuring was needed, he could simply use tools. The kitchen, which had been beautifully furnished from the time he moved in, was still full of expensive cooking equipment whose use remained unfamiliar to him. Even if his constitution and circumstances hadn’t changed, in a place equipped with such tools, he wouldn’t have needed to personally taste and confirm the lethal doses of drugs.

Rather, baking was a field that valued human touch and sensibility that couldn’t be replaced by machines much more highly, but unfortunately, Sehwa’s experience in such areas was limited.

Baking tutorial videos always ended with the saying that individual preferences determine the subtle differences in taste. Preferences? He wasn’t sure. When he put something in his mouth, if it tasted good and looked cute, everything seemed fine to him…

Having only tried famous bakery signature products that Ki Tae-jeong brought and cheap bread scraps from the house store that he had stuffed into his mouth to fill his empty stomach, Sehwa didn’t really know what he liked. Since he had never been allowed to have such things in his life, Sehwa had been floundering for a while. At first, he was full of enthusiasm, but at some point, it stopped being fun. Standing in front of the counter only made him irritated and upset.

‘It’s because you’re honestly following the recipe exactly. Ignore it all and make it your own way.’

When he was looking dejected at the overly sweet madeleines and cream cake, Ki Tae-jeong bluntly offered advice.

‘Your bread doesn’t taste like what I bought for you, right?’

‘That’s right…’

‘Isn’t that natural? Famous stores obviously have their own secret recipes, don’t they? The recipe you saw is a general technical manual, not top-secret information.’

‘But still…’

‘Do you think my subordinates could achieve the same results as me just because they fly the same fighter jets and launch the same missiles in the same way?’

‘No…’

‘See?’

‘By that logic, I’ll never be able to make delicious cakes…’

At Sehwa’s completely deflated voice, Ki Tae-jeong’s eyebrows twitched for a moment.

‘…No, that’s not what I meant…’

‘…’

‘Hmm. So what I’m saying is, even flying experts have their own know-how that they’ve acquired, so you need to find your own way too.’

‘My own way…?’

‘By continuing to fail like this, you’ll find the level you want. If you keep doing that, something will naturally become visible.’

If you don’t know what’s delicious, you can try eating more, and if you’re clumsy with finishing touches, you can practice until it becomes second nature, right? Ki Tae-jeong shrugged, asking what the problem could be.

‘Even I wouldn’t tell a newly enrolled military academy cadet to fly a fighter jet. You seem to be at a similar level right now, don’t you? It’s barely been three months since you started kneading flour.’

Is that so…? Come to think of it, he shouldn’t have expected to reach a level similar to famous patissiers when he didn’t even know how to use an oven. Belatedly realizing that his ambitions had been excessive, Sehwa embarrassedly fidgeted with his earlobes.

‘More than anything, it’s delicious enough. I was going to take into account that it was the first time you made madeleines, but it’s good enough that I don’t even need to.’

Ah. Was he trying to comfort him rather than give advice? Belatedly realizing that the language he spoke had become worn and rounded at the edges, Sehwa slowly blinked his eyes. Now Ki Tae-jeong doesn’t demand any compensation from him. He doesn’t tease or make him cry with vulgar expressions, and he offers the ordinary words that ordinary people would say.

‘Oh? Are you going to eat it?’

‘What more are you going to do? Isn’t it finished?’

‘Well, that’s true… but you don’t really like sweet things. Isn’t it too sweet?’

‘It’s sweet.’

‘That’s what I’m saying. You don’t need to force yourself to eat it.’

‘I said it’s delicious.’

Ki Tae-jeong emptied more than two cups of coffee bitter as poison while eating more than half of a cake so sweet it naturally made him frown.

‘I’ll come tomorrow to finish the rest, so don’t give it to anyone.’

‘Who would I give this to…’

Sehwa muttered helplessly while looking at the cake that had holes punched through it here and there as if mice had gnawed at it. Somehow. He was a little surprised because it seemed like he had developed a strange habit that he hadn’t seen before, but he was doing it on purpose. He was so nimble at digging around the cake sheet that he thought Ki Tae-jeong was holding an excavator instead of a fork.

‘Who would I give it to? Were you planning on sharing it with others?’

‘Huh? Well, since I can’t eat it all by myself…’

‘Who were you going to give it to?’

‘To the sitters… or First Lieutenant Park and Warrant Officer Choi who come with you…’

‘What nonsense are you talking about? What do those bastards deserve?”

Ki Tae-jeong licked the cream slightly smeared on his upper lip with his tongue and shamelessly declared:

‘You can’t give it to anyone. Got it?’

Then he crookedly added that if Hae-rim became old enough to eat snacks, he’d make an exception then, which was really absurd. The saying about people who give rice cakes not even thinking about it was meant for times like this.

‘But if there’s a bakery recipe you especially want, I’ll bring it to you.’

‘What’s that?’

He laughed slightly, thinking he was joking, but Ki Tae-jeong was serious.

‘The bakery with clouds drawn on the box, that was your favorite, right?’

He fiddled with his wristwatch as if he would track down the store immediately.

‘No, it’s okay. I don’t need that kind of thing.’

Sehwa frantically waved his hands in horror. He could all too naturally picture Ki Tae-jeong barging into a cute bakery wearing his star-studded uniform. With his terrifyingly handsome face, flashing his terrifying rank insignia, he’d probably interrogate them like a gangster in his terrifyingly pleasant voice, demanding to know the bakery’s hidden secrets…

‘I can do it on my own.’

Worried that Ki Tae-jeong might secretly go around ransacking famous stores, Sehwa repeatedly emphasized that the process of finding answers on his own was most important.

Someone else’s recipe. Though it was a goal he was embarrassed to voice in front of remarkable people like Ki Tae-jeong or General Oh Seon-ran, and keep it to himself, baking was his own challenge and experiment. It was something he started because he wanted to prove to the world, even in a small way, that Lee Sehwa, not the March of the House, was also useful. What meaning would there be in just imitating others with recipes Ki Tae-jeong had forcibly obtained? He’d rather stick with cakes too sweet to eat like today’s.

After that, he kept a sharp eye on him, worried that Ki Tae-jeong might do something rash, but fortunately nothing happened.

Relieved, Sehwa followed Ki Tae-jeong’s advice and freely ruined his cooking while trying to find his own story that recipes don’t tell. Though his heart was still immature and his mood would fluctuate like riding a roller coaster at times, his baking work continued smoothly throughout it all.

When he said the work went smoothly, it didn’t mean he got satisfactory results every time. Some days he ruined everything by baking too dry, and other days the cream became too thick and he had to throw away all the precious ingredients. But through repeating this process, Sehwa naturally realized what his direction was. He learned his preferred dough consistency and ingredient conditions, and came to understand what people meant by average taste. Though it still couldn’t be called perfect, by the time Hae-rim started babbling while looking at him, he had gained reasonable confidence in the bread he made.

As he baked bread and whipped cream this way, at some point he stopped crying so much. Now he doesn’t get greatly discouraged even when he makes mistakes. Well, it’s not that there are no moments of discouragement and depression, but he doesn’t sink endlessly like before. The time spent crying quietly has shortened, and his mood clears up quickly with even the smallest trigger.

This was the kind of smoothness Sehwa had discovered. Accepting that he couldn’t be good from the start, living daily life even while clumsy, thinking comfortably that it’s natural to sometimes take a step back from yesterday.

Just as it’s natural for the sun to rise when morning comes, the vague belief that everything would be okay with time was beginning to sprout like a new shoot these days.