The Heat Beneath the Surface — Curry, Secrets, and Sudden Growth

A gentle clink of ceramic, the faint aroma of sake wafting through the warm tavern air, and a contented sigh from Sendawara Natsume signaled the end of a delightful meal.

"Truly impressive," she murmured, swirling the cold sake in her cup with practiced ease. Her tone was lazy, but the praise in her voice carried weight. "As expected of a former Totsuki graduate. The culinary skills here are… without question, some of the best in Japan."

Across the table, Sonoka gave a modest laugh, her fingertips lightly brushing her cheek as she smiled.

"I appreciate the kind words, Natsume-san. But really, I'm just helping out here," she replied softly, as if gently brushing off the compliment.

Yet her tone betrayed the faintest tinge of warmth. Praise like that—especially from a Sendawara sister—meant more than she let on.

Natsume's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Last time I was here, I couldn't quite figure it out. Why would someone with such a name in the world of French cuisine choose to settle in a small, out-of-the-way tavern like this?"

But even as she spoke, part of her already knew.

Ever since she tasted Zane's curry the last time she came, part of her worldview had started to shift. She had felt it then—that culinary spark, the kind that ignites movements.

She took another sip of sake and let her thoughts wander.

French cuisine—the crown jewel of Western culinary tradition. Known for its precise technique, its reverence for aesthetics, its obsession with fine ingredients—truffles, foie gras, caviar, duck confit. The sheer complexity behind even a single sauce would turn away most chefs.

And Sonoka… had once been among its rising stars in Japan. Known not just for her grace and etiquette but also her keen palate and rare, precise knife skills, she was considered a natural-born saucier.

Her absence from the field hadn't gone unnoticed.

But here she was—serving customers humble bowls of rice and curry.

Why?

Natsume wasn't sure she had the full answer yet. But one thing was becoming clear:

This tavern, and Zane himself, were not what they appeared on the surface.

Outside the kitchen, steam rose from a pot of rich curry beef hot pot, the warm scent cutting through the night chill.

Modern culinary establishments often chased novelty like it was gold. Molecular gastronomy, ultra-processing, AI-calculated flavor pairings—some restaurants practically performed science experiments on the plate. Food was increasingly mutated into something futuristic and alien.

But here?

Here, Zane cooked like a man possessed by the soul of tradition—with sparks of genius.

The beef brisket had been slow-cooked to perfection. Each slice practically disintegrated under the weight of a chopstick, revealing delicate muscle fibers soaked in rich, spicy curry broth.

The curry itself was deep and mellow, its surface shining with just enough oil to reflect the low tavern lights. Hints of star anise and black cardamom danced with turmeric and Japanese-style roux, while Sichuan peppercorns whispered of fire beneath the comfort.

Paired with hot steamed rice, every grain became a sponge for umami-laden curry sauce. A side of chilled cucumber and shiso salad cut through the richness with a clean, invigorating crunch.

The balance between traditional comfort and layered complexity was masterful.

No wonder even the elusive Sendawara sisters were now frequent guests.

Later that evening, after the guests had left and the tavern's lanterns flickered off, the Sendawara sisters sat in the back of a black town car cruising along a quiet road.

Wind rustled through the cracked window, carrying the scent of night air and the faint perfume of roasting chestnuts from a vendor they passed.

Orie leaned her cheek against the glass, the cold helping cool her thoughts.

"…Zane won't join Haubi Foods," she said abruptly, her voice calm but tinged with something else. "His heart isn't with us. That's clear now."

Natsume didn't reply immediately. Her fingers tapped idly on the armrest.

Orie turned slightly, expression conflicted.

"Sis, it's just like the rumors say… With that level of talent, Zane could even win over Mana Nakiri—the most powerful force in Japan's culinary hierarchy!"

Natsume finally nodded.

"It's not just Mana," she murmured. "Even Totsuki talents like Sonoka and Ryoko are working at his place. Willingly. That alone says a lot."

There was a pause.

Then Natsume added quietly, "That tavern… It's not just a place to eat. It's a nexus."

They had tried to dig deeper.

But the records were strange—hazy, incomplete.

When had Zane arrived in Japan? What school did he graduate from? Where did his techniques come from? Why were high-ranking WGO inspectors visiting his tavern so frequently?

Too many questions.

And no solid answers.

Back at the tavern, a faint mechanical chime echoed in Zane's mind:

"Ding dong!"

"Successfully checked in."

"Congratulations! New recipes acquired: Explosive Twice-Cooked Pork and Giant Panda Magic Mapo Tofu!"

Zane raised an eyebrow as he leaned on the bar, taking a sip of tea.

Two new legendary dishes.

Explosive Twice-Cooked Pork—a fiery challenge dish from Cooking Master Boy, born in a heat-control showdown. Unlike the standard version, this one was cooked in an iron wok blazing with high flames, resulting in a glossy, spicy-sweet sauce that clung to every slice of tender pork belly.

The crispy cabbage added contrast, making the dish a battle of textures.

With scallion beef as the only stir-fry on the tavern's menu thus far, this new dish was a welcome addition—a blast of heat and innovation.

Then there was the Giant Panda Magic Mapo Tofu—a visually striking twist created in the climax of Cooking Master Boy. Layered black-and-white tofu symbolized yin and yang, using black bean tofu and creamy pork-fat infused tofu.

The contrast of spicy, sweet, and fragrant tastes created rhythms of flavor, like a carefully composed song.

A smile tugged at the edge of Zane's lips.

Things were about to get interesting.

Morning arrived with quiet stillness.

Soft light bled over the horizon, touching rooftops and bathing the sky in soft blue and apricot hues.

Inside the tavern, a new experiment was already underway.

"I've finished it," said Alice Nakiri, presenting her dish with pride.

It looked deceptively simple—a sunny-side-up egg.

But something felt… off.

There was no browning around the edges. The yolk sat too perfectly round. The whites were too glossy.

Zane sliced into it gently.

The yolk oozed with a vivid gold hue—but it wasn't egg at all.

"Mango juice?" he guessed aloud.

"And the whites… yogurt?" he added, raising an eyebrow.

Alice nodded, arms crossed, trying to look confident. "It's a molecular dish. Something I've been working on these past few days."

Zane exhaled.

She was improving fast.

In contrast to Erina's cold perfectionism, Alice always had a bright, mischievous edge. But she was also incredibly focused when it counted. She didn't mask her emotions—she wore them like perfume. And unlike her cousin, Alice took failure in stride.

Zane took another bite.

The flavors were vibrant. The mango had a fragrant acidity that popped in the mouth, while the yogurt brought a creamy base.

"So you used sodium alginate and calcium chloride?" he asked casually.

Alice blinked. "Yes… How did you know?"

Zane smirked. "I've been around. It's a classic reverse spherification combo. But you forgot something critical."

"Mango juice is acidic," he explained. "It destabilizes the calcium crosslinking. You should've adjusted the pH—ideally with sodium citrate—to get a better gel."

Alice frowned. "So what should I do instead?"

"Try adding popping candy."

"Eh? What's that?" she tilted her head.

"You really are from Northern Europe, huh?" Zane laughed. "Popping candy contains pressurized CO₂. When it hits the warmth and moisture of the mouth, it explodes. Add it to the yogurt—layer it just beneath—and the dish gains not just flavor, but tactile surprise."

Alice's eyes widened with dawning realization.

"…Like a second layer of illusion," she whispered.

"Exactly."

Zane stood up and stretched. "You've got talent, Alice. But remember: Haste makes waste. In China, we say things must be built step by step. Don't rush."

"Haste makes waste, huh…" Alice puffed her cheeks. "Easy for you to say. Erina's always been ahead of me. In skill. In discipline. Even emotionally… She's always been untouchable."

But even as she grumbled, she nodded seriously. "Alright. I'll try again."

In truth, Alice was anxious.

The Autumn Selection had rattled her—especially Erina's dominating performance in the breakfast challenge. It had left a mark.

She didn't hate her cousin. But she couldn't help but feel like she was forever standing in her shadow.

Still, she wasn't giving up.

Not yet.

As Zane stepped away to begin prepping the new recipe of the day, Alice stared at her mango-yogurt egg.

And smiled..