The Morning Before Everything

The fire refused to die.

Crimson flames swallowed the endless wheat field while ash drifted through the air like winter snow. The heat stung beneath Naya’s skin, yet all she could hear was the quiet sob of a little girl.

The child couldn’t have been older than eight.

Tears streamed endlessly down her face as she stretched out a trembling hand.

“Please…”

“Don’t forget me…”

Naya tried to run toward her.

“Wait!”

Before she could reach her, the little girl’s body shattered into thousands of glowing petals that floated into the sky before disappearing into the wind.

“No!”

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

A loud alarm ripped through the silence.

Naya bolted upright, gasping for air.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled to calm her breathing.

“…Damn it.”

Without opening her eyes, she reached toward the control panel beside her bed and lazily smacked one of the buttons.

The curtains slid open.

Golden morning sunlight flooded the enormous bedroom.

“What the fuck?!”

She buried her face into her pillow.

“Why is the sun so personal this morning?”

After another minute of complaining, she dragged herself out of bed and shuffled across the room.

Standing before the full-length mirror opposite her bed, she rubbed her sleepy eyes.

Her natural 4C hair looked like it had started a fight with itself overnight.

She sighed.

“…You look terrible.”

As she reached to fix her hair, she froze.

There were tears running down her cheeks.

She gently touched them.

“…Not again.”

Her shoulders slumped.

“The same dream…”

She stared at her reflection for another second before quietly turning away.

The dream never changed.

She never understood it.

Yet somehow…

It always left her crying.

She walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water across her face.

Just as she reached for a towel—

Bark! Bark!

Two excited dogs rushed into the room, their tails wagging so hard their entire bodies shook.

One jumped onto her while the other circled her feet impatiently.

She laughed.

“Seriously? At least let me brush my teeth first.”

After giving them both a quick cuddle, her phone vibrated loudly on the bathroom counter.

Best Friend.

She answered immediately.

“What?”

“WE DID IT!”

She frowned.

“…Good morning to you too.”

“The results are out! We made it! We’re officially taking the final entrance examination!”

A small smile spread across her face.

“I told you we’d make it.”

“I hate how confident you are.”

“It’s called believing in myself.”

“It’s called being cocky.”

She laughed.

“Same thing.”

The two spent the next few minutes talking excitedly about the examination.

Today’s test would be unlike any ordinary cooking competition.

The judges would interview every candidate, question them about ingredients, culinary philosophy, food science, cooking techniques, and restaurant management before watching each applicant prepare a signature dish.

More than one thousand students had qualified.

Only one hundred would earn a place at the academy.

“I’ll meet you before everything starts.”

“Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

The call ended.

Naya stretched before walking into her dressing room.

The spacious closet was filled with designer outfits, but today she ignored most of them, choosing a simple floral bodycon dress instead.

She neatly tied her natural 4C hair into an elegant updo, applied a little lip gloss and light makeup, grabbed her iPad and phone, and headed downstairs.

As she descended the grand staircase, the hallway told the story of her family’s legacy.

Framed awards lined the walls, polished until they gleamed beneath the morning light.

Portraits of generations of chefs dressed in crisp white chef uniforms watched over the mansion with quiet pride.

Glass display cases showcased trophies from international culinary competitions, while elegant bookshelves displayed bestselling cookbooks written by her parents—books that had inspired chefs around the world.

To everyone else, it was a museum of greatness.

To Naya…

It was simply home.

The mansion was unusually quiet.

As she entered the dining room, she spotted her father’s personal assistant arranging breakfast.

She stopped.

“My parents…”

The assistant looked up.

“They’ve already left.”

Naya let out a relieved breath.

“Oh, thank God.”

The assistant laughed softly.

“You still don’t like seeing them together?”

“They’re exhausting.”

Breakfast had already been prepared.

Scrambled eggs.

Fried rice.

Fresh fruit.

The assistant poured her a warm cup of tea.

Naya took a sip.

Almost instantly, the assistant’s tense shoulders relaxed.

She blinked before smiling softly.

“Your tea always tastes different.”

Naya simply smiled and continued drinking.

She finished one plate.

Then another.

Then nearly three.

The assistant stared.

“…Are you sure you’re okay?”

Naya shrugged.

“I haven’t been sleeping because of those stupid dreams.”

“So now you’re making up for lost meals?”

“Exactly.”

Both of them laughed.

A few minutes later, Naya grabbed her things and followed the assistant outside.

Their family estate stretched farther than the eye could see.

Rows of vineyards covered the hills.

Ancient orchards shimmered beneath the morning sun.

Massive greenhouses protected rare magical crops.

Legendary farms, owned by her family for generations, produced ingredients found nowhere else in the world.

The mansion itself stood proudly at the center of it all.

It wasn’t just a home.

It was a symbol of one of the greatest culinary families in history.

The academy was hours away, so they left early.

Naya watched the scenery pass by through the car window, her thoughts drifting back to the little girl in her dream.

“Who are you…?”

Nearly an hour later, beyond the morning mist stood the Royal Culinary Academy, its ivory towers rising above sprawling gardens, shimmering greenhouses, and towering stone kitchens.

Thousands of hopeful students gathered before its iron gates, each carrying the same impossible dream.

Some revised recipes.

Some practiced knife techniques.

Others nervously whispered notes to themselves.

Naya spotted her best friend almost immediately.

“There you are!”

“You actually made it on time.”

“I always do.”

The two found a quiet corner and reviewed everything one last time

Ingredient classifications.

Food science.

Ancient culinary traditions.

Cooking techniques.

Restaurant management.

Magical ingredients.

Knife skills.

Presentation.

Culinary philosophy.

Everything.

Suddenly…

The courtyard fell silent.

An elderly examiner stepped onto the stage.

His calm voice echoed across the crowd.

“Welcome.”

He slowly looked over the sea of hopeful faces.

“One thousand applicants stand before us today.”

No one spoke.

“When today’s examination ends…”

He paused.

“Only one hundred of you will earn the privilege of becoming students of the Royal Culinary Academy.”

The iron gates opened slowly.

One thousand dreams stepped forward.

Only one hundred would remain.

Naya smiled.

“Let’s begin.”