A Bowl of Truth, A List of Dreams

Gourmet.

Loving food doesn't mean you understand it.

To truly comprehend cuisine is to respect its story—the labor, heritage, and soul behind every bite. When you add the word "senior" before "foodie," you might begin to scratch the surface of a true gourmet.

Rindō Kobayashi, wild and untamed in both palate and personality, wasn't impressed by ordinary food. She craved the extraordinary. Her discerning taste had disqualified more dishes than she'd praise.

And now, someone like Takumi faced a test of her own.

The aroma of rich spices filled the tavern like a silent temptation.

Steam wafted from a pot of red-braised oxtail, shimmering under the gentle kitchen lights. Deep crimson sauce clung to every curve of the oxtail, glistening with reduced stock and Mediterranean spices—rosemary, thyme, tomato paste, olives, and a subtle hint of cinnamon.

Takumi stood frozen beside the table, a spoon hovering uncertainly.

"You're not eating?" Zane asked casually, observing her hesitation.

Takumi tensed and immediately put the spoon down, cheeks puffing in defiance. "I don't like it," she muttered, turning her face to the side.

But her act was betrayed by her senses. The rich scent kept teasing her—beef simmered for hours, bones softened to silk, and the harmony of herbs and umami wafting into her nostrils.

Growl.

Her stomach growled at the betrayal.

"What a shame," Zane said, sighing dramatically. "This red-braised oxtail was meticulously crafted with Mediterranean influence. Deep slow-braise, olive oil, red wine reduction, aromatic vegetables—truly a tavern-level special."

Then, with exaggerated regret, he made a move toward the trash.

"Well, if you don't like it, I guess I'll throw it out—"

"Wait—what are you doing?!" Takumi cried, stepping forward instinctively.

Zane tilted his head innocently. "Didn't you just say you didn't like it?"

Takumi bit her lip, conflicted. Her pride warred with hunger. She stared at the pot, the aroma still torturing her. Her stomach growled again—louder this time—turning her cheeks crimson.

Zane, unable to hide a smirk, gently ladled a bowl for her.

"Eat it. Don't waste it."

Takumi hesitated, then snatched the bowl quickly. "You insisted. It's not like I wanted it or anything!"

Zane raised an eyebrow. Tsundere much?

Shrugging, he sat down. "Think what you like. It's just a welcome meal. A simple late-night snack."

No more words were exchanged as Takumi took her first bite.

Her eyes widened.

The oxtail fell apart the moment her tongue touched it—tender, juicy, coated with a sauce that was both rustic and elegant. At first, she tried to eat quietly, attempting to maintain composure. But the hunger, and more importantly, the pleasure of the food, won.

Spoonful after spoonful vanished.

By the time she put the bowl down, the pot was nearly empty.

Rindō, lounging nearby, let out a satisfied sigh, rubbing her belly. "Not bad, tavern guy. That was actually worth staying awake for."

Takumi, embarrassed, placed her empty bowl down and saw Zane watching her.

Blushing, she mumbled, "Why… why are you looking at me?"

"Huh?" he replied, caught off-guard.

"I mean, why are you being so nice to me?"

She stood up, suddenly emotional.

"When we first met, I was horrible to you. I thought you were just a scammer… playing with Sonoka's feelings."

Her voice cracked as she continued. "Then the Night Chefs came, and everything spiraled. My restaurant almost went bankrupt. I lost so much in one night. But even then, when I had nothing… you still let me stay. You offered a job. Shelter."

Her eyes welled with tears. "So I don't get it. Why?"

Zane looked at her calmly. "I just needed extra help in the tavern."

A beat of silence.

"You're just a good person," Takumi whispered. Then, before he could reply, she turned and walked away quickly.

Zane exhaled slowly. "Running off already?"

He glanced at her empty bowl and smiled.

The Morning After

The first rays of dawn kissed the sky in soft amber hues. The break after the grueling residential training had ended, and students were gathering again, their uniforms crisp, their eyes tired but filled with expectation.

A red-covered board stood in the main square of Totsuki Academy. Behind it—the long-awaited list of 60 participants chosen for the Fall Selection.

The atmosphere was electric.

Some students stood confidently, chatting and smirking. Others fidgeted nervously, their eyes flicking toward the red cloth.

When it was finally lifted, the crowd erupted in motion.

"Soma's in Zone A!" someone shouted.

"Zenji and Shun too! Ikumi's there!"

"What? Why isn't my name listed?!"

"I'm better than Zenji! Why is he on it and not me?!"

Yuuki scoured the list in a panic, scanning every line.

"Wait!" Ryoko said, pointing. "You're on the Zone B list! Look!"

Yuuki blinked. Her name—clear as day.

"Ahhhh!" she squealed, hugging Ryoko tightly. "I made it! I actually made it!"

Ryoko laughed. "So did I! Megumi too!"

Megumi's hand trembled as she found her own name. "Me… too?"

She had always struggled at the bottom, barely scraping through. How had she been selected?

Yuuki grabbed her hand. "Megumi, your growth has been amazing. Shinomiya saw your strength during the training camp. You deserve this."

"Honestly," Ryoko added, "You and Soma are the best bets for the top eight from our dorm."

"Top eight?! N-no… I'm just happy to participate," Megumi said, scratching her cheek in embarrassment.

Nearby, Soma's eyes burned with energy. "I'm in the same group as Ikumi? Great. Time for payback."

Elsewhere in the crowd…

Akira Hayama brought a bay leaf to his nose, inhaling.

"Bay leaves… not as sharp as star anise, not as fresh as basil, but earthy, full of life."

He looked at the list. "Alice Nakiri… interesting. But the rest? Mediocre."

He turned on his heel, walking away. "Top four will be too easy."

"Alice," Ryo said groggily, his dark-ringed eyes pointing toward the list. "You're in Zone B."

Alice pouted. "Did you think I wouldn't qualify?"

"Not at all. But this time… I plan to win."

She nodded approvingly. "Good. Especially since we're up against Erina's lackey. Prove a Nakiri follower can surpass the rest."

She paused.

"It's a shame Erina can't compete."

As the tenth seat of the Elite Ten, Erina Nakiri was expected to judge, not participate—a rule she accepted with silent bitterness.

In Erina's chambers…

Wearing her pristine uniform, she stood before Hisako.

"Zone A is brutal," she said flatly. "Alice is in Zone B. You, however… you'll have to deal with my vassal—Ikumi."

Hisako bowed. "I'll defeat her."

"I'm more concerned about Akira and Ryo… and that transfer student."

Hisako gripped Erina's hand. "I'll reach the top four. And win."

Erina blinked, caught off guard.

"You idiot," she whispered, eyes glistening. "I don't need… I didn't ask…"

But deep down, she was moved.

A New Battlefield

With third-years soon to graduate, seats on the Elite Ten Council would open. The Fall Selection wasn't just a competition—it was an audition for the academy's future leaders.

There was no risk of expulsion. No looming punishment.

Just dreams and stakes.

Sixty freshmen had been selected. All eyes were on them. Victory in this event could define their entire Totsuki careers.

In the original tale, Akira Hayama had won the championship—rising even above Erina in reputation. After Mana's coup, he became the ninth seat of the Elite Ten.

Now, in this version of the tale, the board was set.

The pieces were moving.

And the flames of ambition had just begun to burn.