Whispers in the Steam, Flames in the Heart

"Ah!"

A shriek pierced the air. Erina stood frozen in place, her golden eyes wide and her delicate hands flying up to cover her face. Her cheeks turned the color of ripe strawberries as she gasped in horror—and, perhaps, just a hint of wonder. She had just walked straight into the bathroom without knocking… and what greeted her was a sight straight out of a shoujo manga.

Zane was standing there, water cascading down his frame, steam curling around his bare, toned body. His well-sculpted physique gleamed in the warm light—broad shoulders, defined arms, lean waist, and firm abs that looked like they were carved from marble.

"I-I didn't mean to—!" she stammered, spinning on her heel and bolting from the room.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears all the way back to her bedroom. She collapsed onto her bed, burying her face into her pillow as if to suffocate the memory—but it was no use. That image had seared itself into her brain.

Long arms. A slim, taut waist. Muscles that moved like coiled springs under smooth skin.

"W-What's wrong with me…?" she muttered, her voice muffled. "Why do I feel like this just from seeing him like that…?"

Embarrassment mixed with something else—a strange fluttering warmth deep in her chest. Her breathing quickened, and when she lifted her face from the pillow, her eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar shine. Confusion, yes—but also fascination. And the unmistakable glow of a girl beginning to fall in love.

About ten minutes passed. Once the sounds of running water ceased, Erina cautiously returned to the bathroom.

This time, she was prepared.

Steam still lingered in the air as she stepped out moments later, wrapped in a plush white bathrobe. Her freshly washed hair clung softly to her neck and shoulders. A drop of water slid down her cheek and landed with a gentle plop on the wooden floor.

It was said that a woman was most beautiful just after a bath—and tonight, that saying had never been truer.

Just as she entered her room again, Zane arrived at the door, carrying a thick, folded quilt in his arms.

"Erina, your room was missing a quilt," he said, setting it gently down on her bed. "Thought you might get cold."

The faint scent of jasmine reached his nose, and for a second, Zane paused. He turned and glanced at her—not with hunger or desire, but a quiet appreciation. She stood there, looking away shyly, her damp hair slightly disheveled, cheeks tinged pink. He'd seen plenty of beautiful women in his life—Rindo's wild charm, Sonoka's mature allure, Ikumi's bold sensuality, Alice's unpredictable flair…

But in that moment, Erina exuded a unique elegance. Her beauty was delicate and refined, like a blooming lily under moonlight.

"Zane," she said, voice soft.

"You've helped out a lot lately. I… I appreciate it."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's nothing. Honestly, I should be the one thanking you. Helping you and Sonoka out with the tavern—it's a team effort."

Erina looked up, meeting his eyes for a fleeting moment. "Still… it means a lot."

Zane smiled. "Anyway, it's getting late. Get some rest. If you need anything, I'm next door. Don't hesitate."

"You're… always so reliable," she murmured. "No wonder Megumi trusts you."

A silence stretched between them.

"Good night, Zane."

"Good night, Erina."

He left, and the door clicked shut.

But even as the lights dimmed and the tavern quieted for the night, Erina lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Her heart wouldn't calm. Memories of the day flooded her mind—the thunderstorm, sleeping beside him, the accidental bathroom encounter…

Each moment with Zane left a deeper imprint on her.

"Ugh… what's wrong with me?" she whispered into the darkness, curling into the quilt he had brought. The scent of clean linen and faint spices clung to it. Her face burned as she pulled it tighter around her.

She didn't sleep a wink.

The Next Morning

Dawn broke softly over the quiet streets of Totsuki. Dew sparkled on the leaves like scattered diamonds.

At the Chinese Cuisine Research Society, Kuga Terunori was at it again.

"Miyoko, reconsider! If you join us, I promise I won't push Sichuan cuisine on you! You can explore Shandong, Cantonese—hell, even Anhui cuisine if that's your thing!"

Miyoko Sato sighed in exasperation, arms folded, brows twitching. Kuga had cornered her again. Persistent didn't even begin to describe him.

"How many times do I have to refuse?" she said icily. "We're both passionate about Chinese cuisine—but that doesn't mean we walk the same path."

Kuga raised his hands in protest. "But I—"

"You specialize in numbing spice and overpowering heat. I value depth, refinement, balance. Our philosophies don't align—and forcing me into your society won't change that."

Kuga tried again, but she cut him off.

"Besides," she said with a sharp smile, "Even if you're the best in Totsuki when it comes to spicy food, there's someone far superior to you in the broader world of Chinese cuisine."

Kuga's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"The owner of that tavern near Polar Star—Zane."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Kuga speechless.

"A tavern guy…?" he muttered, curiosity piqued. "Interesting…"

That Evening – 7 PM

The tavern had barely opened when a graceful figure stepped inside.

She wore a flowing white kimono embroidered with delicate cherry blossoms. Her every movement was poised, elegant. The soft pink tassels on her sleeves swayed with each step. Though there were traces of fatigue beneath her eyes, her presence was commanding.

"Mom?"

Erina blinked in surprise.

Mana Nakiri turned toward the voice, her expression softening.

"Erina. You're here for Zane's cooking too?"

"No! I mean—I'm just working part-time during break!" Erina said quickly, waving her hands.

Mana chuckled behind a silk fan. "Ah, how nice. You get to be around him and eat his food every day. I'm jealous."

Erina flushed again. "It's not like that. I want to improve my culinary skills."

"I understand," Mana said, her smile unreadable. "With your talent and the God Tongue… how could I not?"

Their relationship was still stiff, marred by past wounds. But there was a thaw, however slight. And Zane, watching silently from behind the counter, felt a quiet satisfaction seeing even that much progress.

"You look tired, Mana," he said as he approached, placing a warm cup of tea in front of her. "You should rest more."

"I wish I could," Mana sighed, sipping the tea. "Just organizing the next WGO BLUE competition is exhausting."

"And dealing with the underground chefs too, right?" Zane added casually.

Mana blinked, then gave a small, knowing smile. "You're sharp, as always."

"Let's not talk about stressful things," he said. "You're here now—why not let me serve you my newest creation?"

Mana's curiosity was instantly piqued. "What is it?"

"Treasure Mountain Dragon Pot," Zane replied.

He prepared mushrooms, soybean sprouts, bamboo shoots, carrots, and more—simmering them into a clear vegetable broth. Meanwhile, he shaped thin rice paper into the form of a cooking pot.

The paper pot—heat-resistant and flame-safe—was a marvel. The crowd watched in amazement as he placed it over the flame, and it didn't burn.

Into the pot, he poured the broth and added the vegetables, letting them simmer.

Next, he chopped shrimp into paste, blended it with egg white, cornstarch, and white pepper, forming pearl-like shrimp balls that floated gracefully atop the simmering pot.

The aroma was fresh, clean, and comforting. But then came the showstopper.

Zane lifted the lid.

WHOOSH!

A burst of steam erupted like a geyser, golden mist spiraling upward. Amidst it, a shimmering image formed—ethereal, magical—a golden dragon curling into the air, wings unfurling, tail coiling in the mist.

Mana's breath caught. She stared, captivated.

"A dragon…!"

The vision faded, but her heart still raced.

"This is the Treasure Mountain Dragon Pot," Zane said simply. "The paper pot absorbs the impurities, keeping the broth clear. It's delicate, yet rich in flavor."

Mana took a sip.

Her lips trembled. The warmth spread down her throat and bloomed in her chest.

It was like drinking the spirit of spring itself—light, fragrant, and full of life.

"Zane…" she whispered.

This dish wasn't just food.

It was artistry.

It was a gift.