Chương 38: The Coda of the Ice-and-Fire Symphony

"Chris, are you okay?" Sarah's voice carried concern as she handed over a bottle of ice water. Taking it, Chris realized his hand was trembling slightly, the back of his chef's whites soaked through with sweat. The extreme work just now had looked seamless, but every step of it had been like walking on thin ice. He hadn't only been cooking — he'd been racing the laws of physics and time. The intense concentration left him reeling in waves of dizziness.

"I'm fine." He twisted off the cap and gulped down the ice water, the cold liquid sliding down his throat, pressing back the fatigue in his body a little. He raised his head and surveyed the kitchen, utterly transformed. Jack was no longer the irritable, hot-tempered "captain." He'd become a precise steak machine, silent and efficient. Whatever Chris called, he grilled, not one wasted word. Confidence had returned to Jessica's face too.

She handled the asparagus and sides in good order, the sear station tidy, the earlier panic gone. And Owen had thoroughly become the team's chief logistics officer, his figure flashing through every corner of the kitchen like a tireless sprite, making sure no station ever ran out of ammunition. And Sarah — she not only handled her own fryer and burger work perfectly, she'd started helping Chris of her own accord, doing the final plating and wiping the rims.

The whole Blue Team, like a precision system reprogrammed and optimized, ran wildly at a staggering efficiency. The tickets the printer spat out were broken into orders almost the instant they appeared, passed to the right stations, then gathered at Chris's pass and turned into steaming dish after dish. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

"Chris! Table fifteen, two burgers, one Buffalo wings, ready!"

"Chris! Table sixteen, one medium-well strip, one salmon, ready!"

"Chris! Table seventeen, four lava cakes! Mia says they're done!" The runners had adapted to the new flow lines too, shuttling through the kitchen in good order, never colliding or jamming again. Chris stood at the eye of the storm at the pass, feeling less like a chef than the conductor of a symphony orchestra. The sauce spoon in his hand was his baton, and every sweep meant a dish completed, a note struck. And his teammates were his most in-sync players.

The sizzle of steak on the grill was the powerful double bass. The crackle of fish skin in the sear pan was the bright violin. The tumble of wings in the fryer was the rousing timpani. The thock-thock of Owen's fast cutting at the prep station was the nimble xylophone. All these sounds woven together were no longer noise and chaos, but a symphony full of power and passion — a symphony of ice and fire called Service. And he was the soul of it.

"So beautiful… this is just beautiful…" In the control room, a female producer couldn't help sighing, watching the Blue Team's seamless coordination on the monitor.

"How's the Red Team doing?" the director asked.

"Not great." The assistant director shook his head, pointing at the screen.

"Ever since Leo burnt that batch of lava cakes, their whole rhythm's been off. Ethan's doing his best to patch it, but the trust between teammates has cracked. Look — their bad-review count just went up again, to '3.'" On the screen, the Red Team's green bar had all but stalled, and being overtaken by the Blue Team was only a matter of time.

"The outcome seems to be settled." Yes. Settled. When, in the final minute of service, Chris handed the last lava cake to a runner with his own hands, he knew they'd won. Ring-a-ling— The bell ending service rang through the whole soundstage.

"Stop! Everyone, stop!" Gareth Vane's voice came through the PA, reaching every ear. In the Blue Team kitchen there was a moment of silence first, and then — no one knew who started it — a deafening cheer burst out. Jack threw down his tongs and grabbed Jessica beside him in a hug. Owen and Sarah high-fived and embraced in excitement. Mia, the ever-quiet pastry chef, couldn't help covering her face with her apron, her shoulders shaking faintly. They'd done it.

From the brink of collapse, they'd pulled off an epic reversal.