The Chef x The Celebrity
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✨─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───✨
~ Date: June 27th – Interstellar Year 2422 ~
~ Location: The Elegant Dancing Phoenix Banquet Hall ~
~ The Majestic Bonghwang Estates and Luxury Resort ~
~ The Starlight District, Terra Anka PXD2422 ~
~ The Golden Dragon Star Nexus Intergalactic Empire ~
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🐦🔥 [ Phoenix ☯ POV ] 🐦🔥
Phoenix had barely settled into his assigned seat when someone dropped into the chair beside him with enough dramatic flair to make the table tremble.
Phoenix turned just enough to look. The newcomer was impossible to miss: a stunning male omega with bright pink hair styled into a sharp faux hawk, oversized sunglasses sliding down his nose, haute couture draped over a lithe frame, and the kind of carefully careless confidence that made every movement look staged for a camera.
Phoenix caught the flash of emotion in the omega's eyes before it vanished behind a dazzling smile. Interest. Surprise. Calculation. Maybe a little delight. He answered with a polite nod and a small smile of his own, dimple appearing just enough to be noticed without looking like he had meant to weaponize it.
The cameras were almost certainly active. The hall layout was too careful, the "casual" table arrangements too convenient, and the floating drones above the chandeliers were positioned for reaction shots rather than simple documentation. Recording was expected. Live broadcast this early was less certain, but Phoenix's instincts prickled.
'Solaris,' Phoenix asked through the bond, keeping his expression pleasantly neutral, 'check whether the cameras are already broadcasting live. My gut says at least one feed is open.'
Solaris answered almost immediately, far too cheerful for Phoenix's peace of mind. 'Confirmed, Mama. Several cameras are recording, and at least two feeds are live. Congratulations. You are currently being admired by strangers.'
'I thought so,' Phoenix replied, smile still pleasant. 'The show was highly anticipated in the original timeline too. If they opened a live feed early, the viewer count is probably already climbing.'
Solaris's tone turned proud and worried at the same time. 'Correct again, Mama. Very smart. Very terrifying. Please stay alert.'
'I know,' Phoenix said. 'And I will.'
Phoenix's polite smile did not move. Interesting. Aaron wanted the active cameras to catch this exchange, and the open feeds made every word immediately useful or dangerous.
"Geez, I am such a klutzy airhead sometimes," the pink-haired omega said, laughing brightly enough for the nearest microphones to catch every syllable. "I am so sorry. Oh, my gorgeous, where have you been all my life? You absolutely must let me use your body."
For one delicate second, Phoenix's expression did not change at all. Then he tilted his head, smile still soft, eyes still warm, every internal alarm bell ringing with the cheerful violence of a festival gong.
"I beg your pardon," Phoenix said gently. "Would you mind explaining what you mean by that, so there are no misunderstandings?"
The omega froze. His smile twitched, then widened in sheepish horror. "Oh, shoot. That came out wrong, did it not? I am sorry. I am an artist, and the human body is my primary canvas. Living art is beautiful because every body carries a different story. I did not mean to sound forward. I just—"
Phoenix let his smile turn encouraging without lowering his guard. "I see. That does sound interesting, but what does that have to do with my body exactly?"
The omega leaned forward, enthusiasm rushing back like stage lights snapping on. "Your skin tone, texture, and overall silhouette are ideal for the kind of mixed-media living canvas work I do. From what I can see, your proportions are balanced, elegant, and visually striking. If your full physique matches the line of your silhouette, then you are an S-grade medium."
Phoenix blinked once, then nodded as if that explanation had not nearly walked itself off a conversational cliff. "That sounds fascinating. May I ask your name or stage name? I focus so much on university and culinary work that I have essentially been living under a rock, so I mean no disrespect if you are someone famous. I am sincerely ignorant."
The omega pressed both hands to his chest as if Phoenix had wounded him with cuteness. "Darn it, you are adorable. No offense taken. I am not that famous anyway, so think nothing of it."
Phoenix knew enough to recognize the lie. If this was Aaron Van Schrimsher IV, then "not that famous" was a tragic underestimation bordering on comedy. His living-canvas work sold for absurd sums, and people competed for the privilege of becoming one of his temporary masterpieces. That made the offer useful, dangerous, and interesting.
More importantly, Aaron had approached him first and done it where cameras could see. That meant something. Either Aaron truly was impulsive, or he had recognized value in Phoenix before most of the room had decided what category to place him in. Both possibilities were worth attention. Publicly, accepting Aaron with kindness made Phoenix look generous and approachable. Privately, it opened a connection with someone who understood performance, image, and the peculiar loneliness of being admired for a version of yourself that was easier to sell than the truth.
Phoenix let his performance settle into something warm, soft-hearted, and lightly airheaded—harmless enough for the cameras to underestimate, but never stupid.
"Well, if that is the case," Phoenix said, "I would be open to discussing it. I understand what it means to build yourself as an artist, and I do not mind helping if it benefits us both. My conditions are simple: nothing that crosses my moral line, nothing that violates my contract, and nothing that requires exposure beyond what I personally approve."
The omega's eyes went bright. "Supernova! My mind is already racing with possibilities. This could be my best masterpiece yet." His fingers fluttered once, then curled against his palm as if he were restraining the urge to start sketching on the spot. "The empire will love you for sure, just wait."
Phoenix kept his smile gentle while his thoughts sharpened. Aaron's theatrics were funny, but the talent behind them was real, and the careful overstatement felt less like empty noise than a practiced shield. There was far more beneath the flamboyant surface than the public ever saw, and Phoenix recognized the shape of someone who had learned to survive by letting the world admire the mask first.
So Phoenix played his role in return—not falsely, but selectively. If Aaron wanted the cameras to catch their conversation, Phoenix would make sure they caught kindness, boundaries, and just enough awkward charm to make the public lean closer.
"No, it is no trouble," Phoenix said, still smiling. "And you do not have to humble yourself to me. I am happy to help another artist if I am able. We can discuss details later somewhere quieter—a café, a garden, maybe one of the private business rooms on the resort grounds. I am flexible."
The moment the word left his mouth, Phoenix nearly winced. Flexible. In this conversation. In front of live cameras. Wonderful.
He let a sheepish laugh slip out, soft and bashful enough to sell the mistake. "That sounded strange, did it not? My apologies. What I mean is that I am willing to meet somewhere appropriate and comfortable for both of us."
He lowered his lashes briefly, then looked back up with carefully honest curiosity. "Also, I should ask properly. Did you state your name already, or did I miss it while trying not to misunderstand the living-canvas proposal?"
The omega laughed, bright and genuinely delighted. "You are too adorable. Truly. You are fine, my dear. Let us exchange communicator details, and we will definitely set something up. I look forward to working with you—and getting to know you better. Before I forget, my name is Aaron Van Schrimsher IV."
Phoenix bowed lightly in greeting. "It is nice to meet you, Aaron Van Schrimsher IV. My name is Beyol Bong Tae-Hwan, though I go by Phoenix professionally, so please call me Phoenix. If you do not mind me asking, how old are you? My family still honors old Korean forms of address, and I want to use the correct honorific."
Aaron's smile brightened. "Oh, how delightful. In that case, I am twenty-three this year. How old are you, little Phoenix?"
"You are older than me, then. I am twenty-one," Phoenix said. "If you are comfortable with it, I will call you Aaron-ssi for now. It is a respectful Korean honorific, similar to Mr. or Sir, but less formal than using your full name every time."
Solaris went very quiet, then muttered through the bond, 'And here I thought people shaving five years off their age was shameless.'
Phoenix's right eye nearly twitched. 'I will remember that,' he told Solaris sweetly. 'At a time when you least expect it.'
Aaron's smile softened into something surprisingly sincere, big enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. "Aaron-ssi is fine for now. I hope we can become well acquainted and possibly even friends in the future."
"That sounds lovely," Phoenix said, and meant more of it than he expected to.
They spoke for several more minutes while the hall continued filling around them. Once Phoenix adjusted to Aaron's rhythm, conversation became surprisingly easy. The flamboyant diva mask was real enough to be useful, but beneath it lived someone more introverted, shy, and careful with trust than the public would ever guess. Phoenix understood that kind of performance. A mask did not have to be fake to be protective.
Around them, established celebrities, up-and-coming actors, models, idols, artists, and several faces Phoenix did not recognize settled into their assigned places. The lineup was broader than he remembered from the original timeline. That meant something had changed. Whether the shift came from Solaris's interference, Phoenix's early choices, or some thread he had not yet seen, he could not tell.
His assigned seat still bothered him. This section appeared reserved for celebrity participants, yet Bai Yu Ning had guided him here without hesitation. Production might be quietly treating him as more than a chef because of his secondary status, or someone wanted him placed where the cameras could collect better reactions. Either way, the extra screen time was dangerous, useful, and worth noticing.
Before Phoenix could follow that thought further, the room shifted. A woman stepped onto the raised platform at the front of the hall, and conversation softened almost immediately. She waited until the last murmurs faded, then approached the podium and adjusted the microphone with practiced elegance.
Phoenix folded his hands neatly on the table and let his smile settle back into place. Aaron quieted beside him, still bright-eyed but attentive now. Around the hall, camera drones adjusted by fractions, name placards glowed, and every conversation lowered into the same waiting silence.
Whatever game production intended to begin, Phoenix had the distinct feeling the board had already changed.
The woman's smile appeared on every floating screen at once. "Welcome, contestants and celebrity partners, to the preliminary gathering for The Chef and The Celebrity. Before today's formal introductions begin, production has prepared one small adjustment to the schedule."
A ripple passed through the hall. Chairs shifted. Someone whispered too softly to make out. A camera drone dipped lower, eager for reactions.
Phoenix did not look toward Yongbok. He did not need to; the announcement had already tightened every instinct he possessed.
On the screen behind the host, a new set of names began to load—not pairings, not yet, but the official season roster. Phoenix's name appeared among the contestants. Across the divide, Choi Yongbok's name glowed among the celebrity partners. Solaris went utterly still.
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