The physical labor of pitching tents and hauling heavy backpacks across the rugged terrain had taken its toll. My stomach wasn't just growling; it was roaring, demanding compensation for every calorie burned during the morning's setup. The sun hung high in the sky, bathing the clearing in a crisp, bright light that made the surrounding pine trees look like emerald giants watching over our small, temporary civilization.
"Lunchtime!" Mr. Shin's voice cut through the chatter, sounding like the bell of salvation. "Bring out the barbecue equipment! Class 2, don't set the forest on fire, please."
Instantly, the campsite transformed into a chaotic beehive of activity. The metallic clatter of portable grills being assembled, the rustle of charcoal bags being torn open, and the sight of coolers being unlocked filled the air. Students began pulling out marinated meats, vibrant vegetables, and enough sausages to feed a small army.
In the midst of this culinary frenzy, a shadow loomed over the main grill.
It was Jin.
He wasn't just walking; he was marching with a terrifying sense of purpose. He had tied a cooking apron around his waist—one he had apparently brought specifically for this moment. It was bright yellow and had the words "DANGER: GENIUS COOKING" printed in bold red letters across the chest. In his right hand, he wielded a pair of long metal BBQ tongs like a knight brandishing a holy sword.
He stopped in front of the largest grill, planted his feet wide, and raised the tongs to the sky. "Stand back, peasants!" he announced in a booming voice that made several students drop their water bottles. "Today, you are in the presence of greatness. Chef Jin will take charge of feeding the tribe!"
He reached into his bag and pulled out a glass jar filled with a suspicious, dark viscous liquid that seemed to swirl on its own. "Behold!" he grinned maniacally. "My Secret Sauce. A blend of spices, herbs, and chemistry that will make you weep with joy!"
Suddenly... total, absolute silence reigned over our group. The wind stopped blowing. The birds stopped chirping.
The students who knew Jin—specifically Sarah and I—exchanged looks of pure, unadulterated horror. A traumatic flashback assaulted my brain. I remembered the "Purple Ramyeon Incident" of last winter. Jin had decided that adding grape soda and melted chocolate to spicy noodles would create a "sweet and savory masterpiece." I spent two days in the bathroom praying for the sweet release of death.
I looked at Sarah. She was pale. She was undoubtedly remembering the "Burnt Sandwich Disaster" from the previous field trip, where Jin managed to burn bread that was inside a toaster... inside a microwave.
"No!" Sarah screamed, her voice cracking with desperation. "Grab him!" I shouted, dropping the bag of charcoal I was holding. "Don't let him touch the meat!"
It was like a coordinated military operation. A group of male students, realizing the imminent biological threat, sprinted from their positions. They surrounded Jin and the grill like presidential guards protecting a dignitary from an assassination attempt.
"Whoa! What's wrong with you guys?" Jin asked, backing away, clutching his jar of doom against his chest. "I'm trying to help you! This sauce has aged for three days!"
"That's not aging, that's decomposing!" I yelled, reaching him first and grabbing his tong-arm.
Sarah stepped forward, taking a deep breath to compose herself. She placed her hand on his shoulder with an exaggerated, trembling gentleness, looking him deep in the eyes. "Jin... listen to me carefully. We love you. We really do." Jin blinked, confused. "Uh... thanks?" "We want you to live to play video games with us tomorrow," Sarah continued, her voice intense. "And more importantly... we want to live too."
Jin frowned, offended. "What do you mean?"
"We mean your cooking is classified as an internationally banned chemical weapon under the Geneva Convention," I said, trying to stifle a laugh of relief now that he was contained. "If you cook, we don't eat. We die."
"This is bullying!" Jin objected, trying to wrestle his arm free. "I practiced! I watched three hours of YouTube tutorials by Gordon Ramsay! I even learned how to salt the meat from high up!"
"What is going on here?"
The authoritative voice of Mr. Shin froze the scene. The teacher walked over, adjusting his glasses, looking at the commotion with a mix of annoyance and curiosity. He looked at the blockade of students, then at Jin in his yellow apron, and finally at the suspicious jar of sauce.
Mr. Shin narrowed his eyes. He leaned in closer to Jin, sniffing the air. "You... are Jin, right?" "Yes, sir," Jin stood at attention. "The same Jin who exploded the test tube in my chemistry class last week because you mixed the red chemical with the blue one just to 'see if it makes purple'?"
Jin gulped. "It was a scientific hypothesis, sir."
Mr. Shin sighed, a long, weary sound. He reached out and took the BBQ tongs from Jin's hand gently but firmly. "Listen, son... I cannot allow you near an open flame. The insurance policy for this trip doesn't cover nuclear fallout."
Jin's shoulders slumped. "But I want to help..."
Mr. Shin thought for a second, then pointed to the far corner of the setup area where a mountain of leafy greens and tomatoes sat waiting. "We have a very dangerous and sensitive mission," Mr. Shin said with a straight face. "A mission that requires precision. No one else can do it."
Jin's eyes sparkled, hope returning. "Really? The grilling? The seasoning?"
"No," the teacher smiled benignly. "Washing the lettuce and chopping the tomatoes. The water is cold, and the tomatoes are fragile. Stay away from the fire, stay away from the meat, and for the love of God, keep that jar closed."
The camp erupted in laughter. Even the seniors from the other classes were chuckling. Defeated but not broken, Jin marched to the corner. He sat on a small stool, aggressively scrubbing a head of lettuce while muttering loud enough for us to hear: "Mock me all you want... Geniuses are never appreciated in their own time... One day you will beg me for my culinary autograph... Just you wait..."
With the threat neutralized, the real cooking began. I sat next to Lina by one of the smaller portable grills. The heat from the charcoal was pleasant against the cool mountain breeze. I placed strips of beef onto the metal mesh, listening to the satisfying sizzle as the fat rendered.
Lina was cutting onions and mushrooms next to me, her eyes tearing up slightly from the onions, but she was laughing as she watched Jin in the corner. "Poor guy," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "He was so excited. Did you see his apron?" "I saw it," I said, flipping a piece of meat with professional focus. "It's better for him and us. At least we'll go home without severe food poisoning. I plan to survive high school, Lina."
"You're mean," she giggled, nudging my arm with her elbow. "But you're probably right."
She took a piece of lettuce, placed a freshly grilled slice of beef inside, added some garlic and soybean paste (Ssamjang), and wrapped it up. Without thinking, she held it out toward my mouth. "Here. The chef needs to taste-test first."
I froze for a split second. Her hand was close. I could smell the savory meat and the faint, floral scent of her hand cream. I leaned in and took the bite. The flavor exploded in my mouth—the smoky char of the meat, the crunch of the fresh vegetable, the salty kick of the paste. "Mmm," I chewed, nodding in approval. "Perfect. You're hired."
Lina blushed slightly, turning back to the grill. "Don't get used to it."
We ate with hearty appetites in the open air. The food was simple—just meat, rice, and vegetables—but it was the most delicious meal I'd had in ages. Maybe it was the hunger. Maybe it was the fresh air. But looking around, I realized it was something else.
Laughter echoed through the valley. Jin had eventually abandoned his post and was now stuffing his mouth with meat (that he didn't cook) while laughing as Sarah tried to clean a smudge of charcoal off his forehead. Students were chasing each other. The sun was warm on my back. The smell of pine mixed with the barbecue smoke created a scent I wanted to memorize.
It was a moment of simple, human "perfection." The kind of moment that acts as a shield against reality. For an hour, I forgot about the red numbers. I forgot about the "System." I forgot about the hallucinations of blood and the voice in my head counting down the seconds.
I looked at Jin, making a fool of himself to make Sarah smile. I looked at Lina, who was wiping barbecue sauce from her chin with a napkin, her eyes crinkled in joy.
I smiled, a genuine, unforced smile. If time stopped here... I thought, watching the smoke rise into the blue sky. If the world just froze in this exact second... I wouldn't mind.
But time doesn't stop. It marches on. And as the last embers of the grill began to fade, I didn't know that this was the last meal we would ever eat in peace. The "Last Supper" before the betrayal of fate.