Swish!
Swish!
Swish!
A sudden gust of wind swept through the tavern—
And just as Mana's mind emptied, another wave of culinary energy surged from within her.
But like a fleeting thought, the wind quickly vanished, leaving behind only the lingering glow of the Frozen Sea Bream Iceberg.
Before she realized it, her chopsticks were moving on their own—one slice after another vanishing from the icy mountain.
She was powerless to stop.
There was something spellbinding in the simplicity of the sashimi—
A hypnotic rhythm that locked her heart and refused to let go.
All she could think about was the flavor.
The texture.
The purity.
The heavenly freshness.
And within moments, every last slice had disappeared.
"Zane…"
"Could I… could I have another plate?"
Mana licked her lips, still unsatisfied. Her voice was soft, almost pleading.
It wasn't enough.
Her God Tongue hadn't had its fill—nor had her soul.
"Sure," Zane replied calmly, already reaching for another fish. "Just wait a bit."
And so he began again.
That night, in a humble tavern under the silver moonlight, Mana Nakiri—possessor of the fabled God Tongue—devoured three full plates of Frozen Sea Bream Iceberg.
Each one as transcendent as the last.
The fullness that followed was unlike anything she'd experienced. It wasn't just physical—it was emotional. A rare, soothing satisfaction that lingered long after the meal.
Beside her, Anne watched in disbelief.
This wasn't just a victory.
It was unprecedented.
In today's culinary world, bold seasonings were often used to artificially hook customers—spice, sugar, umami boosters—all to stimulate dopamine rather than nourish the spirit.
But in doing so, chefs buried the true flavor of ingredients beneath layers of distraction.
Zane's dish did the opposite.
He peeled everything away—leaving only the pure essence of the fish.
In some ways, this was even more difficult than crafting something like Comet Fried Rice. There were no flashy sauces, no intense stir-frying—just fish, ice, and the blade.
Yet even so, he conquered the God Tongue.
Not once.
But three times in a row.
"I take back what I said earlier," Mana said softly, finally leaning back in her chair.
"Even if the God Tongue continues to evolve…"
"…I doubt it could ever rise above your cooking."
She looked at Zane, who was now gently wiping down the blade that had created this miracle.
"Maybe the real powerhouse in the culinary world… isn't me."
"…It's the quiet owner of this little tavern."
Her voice trembled ever so slightly. The warmth from the fish still glowed inside her chest.
Zane's face, under the golden lamplight, was calm—focused—gentle.
"Now you understand," Zane said without looking up. "No matter how much your God Tongue evolves…"
"It will always crave my cooking."
"The real problem you'll face isn't rejecting food and starving yourself."
"It's…" He glanced up.
"…being addicted to my food and not being able to let go."
Mana blinked.
Then gave a dry laugh. "Heh… Food addiction, huh?"
"But you're right."
"Better to be stuffed to death than starve to death."
In that moment, Mana understood something she hadn't before.
She had feared losing her love for food—feared the numbness and pain of her affliction. But now, she saw a different path. A different kind of dependency.
To depend on one chef's cooking.
To desire one man's hands to feed her.
Wasn't that the very thing she had longed for most?
"Zane."
She spoke again, her voice steady.
"The WGO is about to host THE BLUE—the world's top-tier culinary competition."
"We're short-staffed. Would you consider joining us?"
"With your skills, becoming a Special Executive… or even a judge at THE BLUE… would be no problem."
Zane paused for a moment.
Then shook his head.
"I appreciate the offer," he said, his tone calm but firm.
"But I'm not interested."
"Whether it's Totsuki Academy or the WGO… they're not for me."
Mana raised an eyebrow. "So… you even turned down my father, didn't you?"
Of course.
A genius like Zane—unorthodox and uncompromising—would never be tied down by titles or status.
He didn't cook for glory.
He cooked for the art.
And in a strange way… that made him even more captivating.
"If you're not interested, I won't push," Mana said at last.
She stood up and turned toward the door. "Anne, let's settle the bill."
But just as she reached the exit, she paused—then turned back.
Her eyes met Zane's.
"Zane…"
"You're an incredible chef."
"…And I find myself appreciating you more and more."
With that, she left—this time not looking back.
Anne followed quickly after settling the payment.
Night deepened.
The road ahead was painted in soft moonlight.
Silence filled the car—until Anne, now in the driver's seat, finally spoke.
"Master Mana…"
"…THE BLUE won't happen until the end of next year. And we're not short-staffed. So… why did you invite him?"
Mana smiled softly.
"Is there a problem with that?"
"I just wanted an excuse…"
"…to keep him close."
She rested her head against the window, watching the moon fade in and out between the trees.
"After all… only with him by my side can I taste his cooking every day."