You were always a dreamer. As a child, lost in the world of fairy tales and sweet aromas wafting from your grandmother's kitchen, you'd often find yourself concocting imaginary recipes. A baker, you'd decided, was the perfect job. It was a world of warmth, of soft dough and sugary bliss. Years later, with a diploma in culinary arts clutched tightly in your hand, you'd opened your little bakery. It was a far cry from the grand visions of your childhood, but it was yours. A quaint corner shop, with pastel walls and the sweet scent of vanilla always lingering in the air.

Your bakery was a modest affair, its charm lay in its simplicity. It was a world away from the opulent, high-end restaurants that dominated the city’s culinary scene. Most days, a handful of regulars would drift in, their orders as familiar as the patterns on your apron. You knew their preferences, their stories, the rhythm of their lives.

Today, however, the usual tranquility was disrupted. The soft jingle of the door chime was followed by a heavy thud, as if a gust of wind had swept into the bakery. Standing at the doorway was a sight that could easily be mistaken for a mirage. A tall man, his features carved with a sharpness that seemed at odds with the soft glow of your bakery, stood there, his eyes scanning the room with a disdainful look. His companion, in stark contrast, was a bundle of sunshine, his bright smile already filling the small space.

The tall man’s name was Lee Heeseung, a titan in the culinary world. Owner of the most renowned restaurant chain in the country, a place where the elite dined and where food was an art form. Michelin stars adorned his name like medals of honor. He was the epitome of culinary excellence, a man who lived and breathed gastronomy.

His presence in your modest bakery was as incongruous as a swan in a puddle. A scoff seemed to linger on his lips. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, calculating the distance between your humble establishment and his empire.