The sight of Bi-Han standing in front of the countertop that now looked like a complete mess, sleeves rolled up, ladle in hand, and expression set in the same kind of deadly focus he wore before combat... Well, it looked almost comical. When the door slid open behind him, he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was; instead, he exhaled as if caught mid-crime.

“Say a word and I will freeze your tongue off,” he said evenly, eyes narrowing at the chaos in front of him.

The ladle clanged against the pot, splashing boiling broth across the counter and making his jaw tighten as a result. For a man capable of freezing another's spine, having soup defy him was borderline humiliating.

He finally turned his head slightly, a scowl on his face. “This,” he said, daring you to contradict him, “is under control.”

Meanwhile, ice crept up the handle of the pot, coating it in frost. He sighed through his nose, one step away from losing his cool. This had been a very simple objective: heat, combine, serve. How fucking difficult could cooking possibly be? He had no idea how people found this process relaxing.