The initial taste was cold and sweet.
Then came the shift: a lively burst of sweet and sour in the middle, and finally, a surprising yet pleasant finish—sweet with a gentle, creeping spice.
The layers of flavor unfolded like the slow bloom of a summer flower. The sweetness was subtle, almost like honey diluted in icy spring water. The sourness? A tangy, fruity note reminiscent of green apples. And the spice—barely noticeable at first—grew slowly, a soft ember that left warmth instead of heat.
Yet it was the temperature that made everything shine. The coldness muted the intensity of each flavor, balancing them with refreshing elegance.
Mixed into the noodles, the result was nothing short of symphonic.
Clear.
Refreshing.
Smooth.
Bouncy.
Every slurp delivered a cascade of sensations. The noodle's elasticity, paired with the lightness of the broth, created a dance of textures and temperatures that was deeply satisfying.
And then came the side dishes.
Spicy chili sauce, thin-sliced beef, crunchy kimchi, sweet apple slices, refreshing cucumber strips, delicate pear matchsticks, a perfectly halved boiled egg, golden fried egg ribbons, plump chicken meatballs, aromatic pine nuts…
Not every topping was required, of course, but in this dish, abundance felt right. The more, the better.
To the Director and the judges, Megumi's cold noodle bowl wasn't just food—it was a complete experience. A bold fusion of ice jelly, Korean-style cold noodles, and impeccably prepared sides, unified with a tenderness only Megumi could provide.
Eating it was like turning on the AC during a blistering summer afternoon.
It didn't just cool the body—it cooled the heart.
Yet even this refreshing oasis of flavor had its flaws.
For one, sweetness in cold noodles could be controversial. Megumi's dish carried a soft, lingering sugar note—too faint for most, but not for the Director. His refined palate detected it right away, even hidden behind the vinegar's sharpness.
And then there was the complexity.
Megumi's dish, despite its comforting nature, was deeply layered and intricate. For the average diner, the multitude of sides and subtle seasoning might feel overwhelming. After all, cold noodle dishes were notoriously subjective—what one found perfect, another might find too sweet, too sour, too light, or too spicy.
"Udon noodles," the Director remarked, fingers stroking his chin, "don't match the flavor depth of regular noodles."
"Why?" Alice raised a brow, arms crossed.
"It's the starch content," he explained. "When normal wheat noodles mix with saliva, enzymes break down starch into maltose, creating that familiar natural sweetness. Udon noodles? Less starch, less reaction. They simply don't taste as good in the mouth."
He looked at Megumi, his expression serious but not unkind.
"You worked hard to transform Takamatsu udon into something worthy of this stage. And you did it—this cold noodle dish is valuable. Unique. It even made me burst out of my clothes."
He paused.
"But after that… it couldn't carry me further."
The final judgment was clear.
A polite bow. No protests from Megumi.
Score: 3–0.
Alice Nakiri advanced to the semi-finals.
"YES! I made it!" Alice cheered, twirling with childlike joy. "Semi-finals, here I come!"
Megumi scratched the back of her head, offering a soft smile despite her loss. "Well… I guess this is where my journey ends, huh?"
No bitterness. No complaints. Just Megumi being Megumi.
Meanwhile, the tavern remained quiet in the early afternoon.
During daylight hours, the doors stayed shut, a quaint wooden sign reading: Resting. By evening, it would switch to Preparing, signaling the beginning of Zane's night.
But now, at high noon, the sun cast soft shadows across the stone-paved street.
From the second-floor balcony, Zane noticed something unusual.
A girl.
Dragging a suitcase.
She paced back and forth in front of the tavern, hand raised halfway to the doorbell—only to pull it back again. Her brows were furrowed in hesitation, lips pressed tightly together.
"Hisako?" Zane blinked. "Why is she…?"
Wasting no time, he rushed downstairs and opened the tavern's front door.
"Zane…"
"I… I came…" Her voice trembled.
As soon as their eyes met, all the tension in her body seemed to collapse. Hisako's composed mask shattered in an instant.
She sniffed once, tried to speak again—
But the floodgates burst open.
Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as she stumbled into Zane's arms.
"Hey—what happened? Did something go wrong with Erina?" Zane held her gently, concerned and confused. She didn't answer, only cried harder.
Ten long minutes passed.
Finally, her sobs began to soften. She wiped her face with her sleeve and took a small step back, still sniffling.
"My relationship with Lady Erina isn't…"
Zane tilted his head, then grinned, "You've got some snot on your cheek."
"Wh-what?" Her eyes widened.
Instinctively, her hand flew to her face. Sure enough—sticky, embarrassing, and very real.
Face turning beet red, she turned away in shame.
"Here," Zane handed her a tissue with a warm chuckle. "Clean yourself up."
"Thanks…" she muttered, wiping her face quickly. Her gratitude was clear even as she burned with humiliation.
Later, sitting on a plush sofa inside the dimly lit tavern, Hisako exhaled deeply.
"Zane… am I useless?"
He looked up from his cup of tea. "What?"
"I lost to Alice's assistant. Someone who used to follow her around like a shadow. And I—I can't help but think I've wasted all my time trying to become stronger under Lady Erina."
She wrapped her arms around herself as if bracing against invisible cold. "After the competition… I didn't even know where to go. Hotels, dorms, nothing felt right. I couldn't return to Totsuki like this. I couldn't go home either. So…"
She glanced up at him.
"I came here."
Zane didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he stood and walked behind her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.
"You did great," he said softly. "Following someone you admire… that's not wrong."
"You gave it your all, didn't you?"
"But I didn't win—"
"So what?" Zane cut in. "That's the thing about competitions. Someone always loses. But if you enjoyed the process—if you cooked with belief in your heart—then that's a win too."
"Life's short. If being by Erina's side makes you happy… why care about rankings?"
Hisako's eyes glistened again, but this time, she held back the tears.
She whispered, "But… I still feel like I'm not good enough."
Zane smiled and gave her cheek a playful tap.
"Then how about this—you're just in time. I've been working on a new dish. Want to try it?"
Her stomach grumbled in response.
She blushed again. "…Sure."
Bouncy Soft-Shelled Turtle Soup.
A dish that balanced technique and wild imagination.
First, the turtle was cleaned thoroughly—blood drained, organs removed, skin peeled, and the shell discarded. Zane blanched it in boiling water, then rinsed the meat under cold flow until no trace of fishy smell remained.
But that wasn't enough.
Instead of relying on white wine or milk, Zane used a more unorthodox trio: brine, salted plums, and the floral sweetness of cantaloupe to neutralize the earthy odor.
He then placed the cleaned turtle into a hollowed cantaloupe shell, filled it with a light broth, and steamed it until tender.
Later, the cantaloupe was transferred to the fridge. As the soup cooled, it solidified.
The result?
A glowing orb of turtle-flavored jelly nestled inside a cantaloupe. An improbable combination, yet somehow… perfect.
Hisako stared in amazement as the lid was removed.
A bright golden light shone from within the cantaloupe.
"What is this?" she gasped.
As she poked it with a spoon—boing!—the jelly bounced it back.
"The bounce… it's so strong!"
She scooped a spoonful and placed it in her mouth.
The flavor was deep. Fragrant. Unusually clean for turtle.
The jelly melted slowly on her tongue, revealing layers of subtle sweetness and savory warmth.
"This… is incredible!"
As she devoured the dish, she could feel her fatigue lifting.
Her limbs grew lighter. Her spirit steadied.
"Zane," she said between bites, "did you use gelatin in this? For the bounce?"
Zane shook his head with a grin. "No chemicals. Just culinary mastery."
Her eyes widened again. "Unbelievable… all this, with just natural ingredients?"
She finished the dish, licking the spoon clean.
Then she leaned back.
For the first time in days, she smiled.
Not a polite smile.
Not a forced one.
But a real, warm, full-hearted smile.