Whispers of God Tongue and Curry Flame

WGO, Japan Branch — Mana's Office

A shadow flickered into Mana Nakiri's private chambers, unnoticed by most of the WGO staff. The scent of perfume and the soft swish of fabric marked the arrival of Executive Officer Anne, who adjusted her jacket, exhaled slowly, and then knocked twice on the lacquered wooden door.

"Come in," came a cold but composed voice from inside.

Anne stepped into the room silently. She didn't speak. Instead, she laid a crisp, white envelope on the pristine desk—sealed, official, heavy with truth. Mana glanced at it, her sharp eyes scanning the familiar insignia.

Her expression shifted. "…What are the results?" she asked, her voice low, strained.

Anne's answer was calm, but firm. "99.99%. He is… his son. There's no doubt."

Mana's breath hitched.

"Father and son…" she murmured, slumping back into her chair like a marionette with cut strings. She had anticipated it—feared it—but seeing the confirmation shattered the last illusion she'd held onto. Her shoulders trembled.

To learn that Asahi Saiba, the self-proclaimed culinary prodigy who had caused so much upheaval, was her illegitimate son—was one thing. But that his biological father was… that man—Joichiro Saiba—dug up wounds Mana thought long buried.

A sigh escaped her, long and fragile.

Was her heart truly dead?

Back then… had she felt pity for Joichiro? When she allowed him into the Nakiri family, had she believed he could be a father to Erina? Had she been naive enough to think that the man who inspired countless chefs would also be kind?

But then came the truth. Harsh education. The extremity of his ambition. The collapse of their household. And now this… a child born of secrets, lingering in the shadows.

Her fingers curled slightly. No tears came—but not for lack of sorrow. Her well had simply run dry.

Suddenly, the room tilted.

Mana stood, but her knees buckled.

"Lady Mana!" Anne rushed forward.

Mana's body swayed like a dying flame in the wind before collapsing to the floor.

"Malnutrition again? No, please not now—" Anne panicked. It had been weeks since Mana last collapsed like this.

She turned to run and get a nutrient vial, but a faint voice stopped her.

"Don't… don't go."

Anne froze.

"…Lady Mana?"

Mana's voice was quiet, her breathing labored. "Stay. I… I just need to rest. That's all."

Anne knelt beside her, supporting her gently. "You've been pushing yourself too hard."

Mana gave a tired, bitter smile. "Too much to think about. Too little to hold on to."

Anne's chest tightened. She couldn't help but blurt out, "Why, Lady Mana? Why stir up the night chefs again? You've finally found a dish that brings you peace—Zane's dish. So why trigger chaos in the culinary world again?"

Mana closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them—glowing with eerie calm.

"You misunderstand," she said. "This… is not chaos. It's evolution."

"Evolution?" Anne echoed, stunned.

Mana sat upright with effort, her voice gaining strength. "You see, the God Tongue… it doesn't just dissect flaws. It sees intention. It sees into the soul of the dish—and by extension, into the soul of the chef."

Her gaze softened. "In Zane's cooking, I felt something rare. A fire I hadn't seen in years… decades. A pure, unfiltered culinary instinct. It wasn't technique. It wasn't training. It was hunger—hunger to express."

Anne stared in shock. "But how does that explain the night chefs?"

Mana smiled faintly, as if remembering a distant dream.

"Because if Zane is to grow… he must face the world's darkest kitchens."

"The night chefs are a forge. Brutal. Raw. Untamed. But if he survives… he'll be unstoppable."

"But Lady Mana… even Asahi's Crossed Knives ability wasn't enough to fully conquer your God Tongue. Are you saying Zane might surpass him?"

"Yes," Mana said without hesitation. "Asahi can replicate others. Zane creates something new."

She looked out the window.

"If I could… I would live in that tavern forever."

Anne blinked, speechless.

Was this truly the same stern, stoic leader who had ruled WGO with an iron will?

Mana had become emotionally attached—no, spiritually bound—to Zane's food.

…

Elsewhere — A Brewing Conflict

Anne's mind raced. Zane… Asahi… the culinary world shifting. And Mana, always one step ahead, orchestrating something unseen.

If Zane truly had such a terrifying gift… what kind of "ability" could rival Crossed Knives?

"Not a superpower," Anne whispered to herself. "But something worse. Something original."

…

Totsuki Academy — Elite Ten Headquarters

Etsuya Eizan stared at the reports in his hand, his face dark.

"Mozuya" fried chicken… the pride of his network. His food street empire. Profitable. Strategic.

But this month?

Down.

"Impossible…"

He recalculated the numbers. Again. Three times.

No mistake.

Five stores—five carefully selected locations—bleeding money.

His eyes narrowed. "Could it be… that tavern?"

The one open only in the evenings. The one with word-of-mouth reviews and an invisible footprint.

A smile tugged at his lips. "If so… I have to meet the owner."

He leaned back in his chair. "A true business genius… or a fool with luck? Let's find out."

…

Evening at Totsuki — Polar Star Dormitory

Sunset cast gold over the dorm.

Soma, Megumi, Ryoko, Yuuki, Zenji, and Shun gathered in the common room, still buzzing with excitement from being selected for the Fall Selection.

Yuuki burst in with a sealed envelope. "It's here! The theme!"

Everyone leaned in.

She tore it open.

Curry.

A pause.

Then chaos.

"Curry!?" Yuuki shrieked. "Of all the things—ramen, sushi, steak—I didn't expect curry!"

Megumi paled. "I-I'm doomed… I specialize in delicate flavors…"

Ryoko raised a hand thoughtfully. "Does it say curry seasoning or curry dishes?"

Yuuki flipped the paper. "Nope. Just says curry."

Soma crossed his arms. "So that means… anything inspired by Indian spices?"

Ryoko's eyes gleamed. "If we use turmeric, star anise, pepper, bay leaves—even in non-curry dishes—it should count!"

Yuuki's jaw dropped. "Wait! That means… curry isn't just the dish. It's the idea."

Soma grinned. "Exactly."

"The rules are vague. That means creativity is king."

"Looks like this Fall Selection will be hotter than ever," Ryoko said, fire in her eyes.

Everyone could feel it—the tension rising, the curry battle approaching.

Sixty students.

One theme.

And a million interpretations.