Jun Shiomi had always looked like she was perpetually eighteen.
Her youthful face, soft cheeks, and glossy hair made people question if she'd stumbled across the fountain of youth. When asked about her secret, she always gave a mysterious smile and replied with a confident shrug:
"Spices."
Yes—spices.
According to her, the frequent and long-term consumption of rare spices had some sort of anti-aging effect. Her theory sounded like pseudo-science to some. But Zane, the tavern owner, wasn't one to challenge that logic. After all, her youthful appearance did speak volumes.
He did, however, silently wonder if a heavy diet of cardamom and cloves could really smooth away wrinkles.
But whatever her beauty regimen, one thing was beyond question—
Jun Shiomi was a top-tier expert in spices.
And now—
That very expert sat across from Zane, cradling an empty mug still fragrant with mulled wine.
"Impressive," she murmured.
Then she added again, this time with a teasing smirk, "A tavern owner… who knows more about spices and wine blending than a spice scholar like me. What are you, really?"
Zane gave a modest shrug. "I've just experimented a lot. That's all. Compared to a real expert—"
"—Don't even try," she cut him off, rolling her eyes. "You can't fool me with that fake humility. You're a monster when it comes to spices."
She pointed to the mug still faintly steaming. "Even low-alcohol wine turns acidic when heated. That's why people add cinnamon, star anise, cardamom, sometimes even allspice, to mask the harshness."
"But your blend… it didn't just mask the flaws. It elevated the wine."
Jun tapped her stomach lightly, clearly satisfied—but also craving more.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward and smiled, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "I'm hungry now. Can I order something?"
Zane smiled. "Of course. What do you feel like?"
She clasped her hands together like a child making a wish. "Tom Yum!"
Zane blinked. "…What?"
Tom Yum Goong.
A fiery, tangy soup from Thailand, born in the 18th century during the Thonburi Kingdom.
Legend had it that Princess Chaofa of Siam fell gravely ill, unable to eat. Desperate, King Taksin ordered his best chef to craft a soup that could spark her appetite. The result? A vibrant red broth of shrimp, herbs, and spice that revived the princess and became a national treasure.
In Thai, "Tom Yum" means "boiled and sour," while "Goong" means "shrimp."
It was a dish that was bold. Alive. Sensual.
Lemongrass. Thai lime. Galangal. Straw mushrooms. Fresh chilies.
It wasn't hard to make—if you had the right ingredients.
Zane, however, frowned slightly. "We're missing Thai lime. That's essential. I can't make the dish properly without it."
Before anyone could sigh in disappointment—
A hand extended from across the tavern.
"I have one."
Hayama Ryo, leaning coolly against the bar, held up a fresh Thai lime like a magician revealing his trump card.
"You—why do you have this?" Zane asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I carry essentials," Hayama replied with a smirk. "Just in case someone challenges me in Southeast Asian cuisine."
Zane took the lime and nodded in appreciation. "Then, let's begin."
The Tom Yum Symphony
Zane's hands moved swiftly.
Fresh shrimp—deveined, cleaned.
Straw mushrooms—sliced.
Red chilies—chopped finely.
Lemongrass—bruised and cut into aromatic chunks.
Galangal root—peeled and sliced.
Coconut milk, fish sauce, palm sugar, and finally—fresh lime juice.
In the hot pan, shrimp sizzled in a bath of olive oil. Aromas began to rise—oceanic, herbaceous, spicy.
He added water and brought it to a boil, layering the flavors. Lemongrass, lime leaves, chilies, galangal, mint, and cilantro danced together in the broth.
Then mushrooms.
Then seasoning.
He ladled the golden-red liquid into a traditional earthenware bowl.
The final touch—a curl of lime zest, and a sprinkle of crushed bird's eye chili.
The result was breathtaking.
The soup shimmered like a jewel—vivid red with swirls of coconut milk and green flecks of herbs. Tender shrimp curled like soft commas beneath the surface. The air was heavy with its aroma—sour, spicy, sweet, savory, rich.
Jun Shiomi stared, eyes sparkling. "Is this really Tom Yum?"
Hayama Ryo inhaled deeply and paled. "…This isn't just Tom Yum. This is divine retribution."
Jun took a spoonful—
And the moment the broth touched her tongue—
Her mind exploded.
Spice. Sour. Sweet. Salt. Savory.
The initial hit was sharp—the lime's acid shocking her taste buds awake. Then came the seafood's sweetness, mellowed by coconut milk. The heat followed—a slow build of chilies, growing and blooming without overwhelming.
And then—the secret.
Depth.
A depth that didn't exist in ordinary Tom Yum.
Even with her encyclopedic spice knowledge, Jun found herself lost. Was that a hint of kaffir lime oil? Was there a trace of shrimp paste gently bloomed in oil before the boil?
Her eyes fluttered shut.
"I… I'm in heaven."
Across from her, Hayama Ryo stared in disbelief.
He activated his God's Nose, honing in on the aroma, sniffing deeply—
And froze.
His body trembled.
"How is this possible…?"
Tom Yum wasn't complex. It wasn't even a "difficult" dish in theory. And yet—
This version?
The smells were layered, interlaced, folded within each other like petals. Every sniff revealed a new element—and none of them repeated.
He clenched his fists.
"My nose… can't fully identify all the components?"
For someone who once claimed superiority to Erina's God Tongue, this was a terrifying realization.
"The unknown is… the most terrifying thing," he whispered.
He glanced at Zane, who was calmly wiping down a wine glass.
Now he understood.
Why so many top-tier chefs visited this tavern in secret.
Why even Rindō and Kuga, Momo and Megumi, the proud and powerful Elite Ten—
Kept coming back.
Just then—
"Ha-ha-ha! What a lively little place!"
The doors opened with a dramatic swing as an elderly man with thick white hair and a powerful presence strode in.
Erina stood up, startled. "Grandfather!?"
Jun jumped too. "D-Director!?"
It was none other than Senzaemon Nakiri, the Demon of the Dining Table himself.
He scanned the tavern, then found a seat and gave a polite nod. "Jun. Ryo. I didn't expect to see you two here as well."
Then he turned to Zane and grinned. "I came for wine."
Zane handed him a bottle.
Senzaemon took a sip—
BOOM!
His clothes burst off with a dramatic shockwave of delight.
Veins bulged. His eyes sparkled.
"Wine…!? No—this is an elixir!"
He gasped again. "The fragrance, the depth… it's fruit wine, yet it lingers like aged shochu! This taste—how did you balance the body?"
Zane replied with a calm smile. "Blending. Grapes of different varieties and maturity, layered fermentation techniques, and careful proportion control."
Senzaemon gave a slow nod. "Remarkable. Truly… remarkable."
He drank more. Laughed. Poured another glass.
But as the second bottle neared its end, his tone turned serious.
"I didn't come just to drink."
He set the bottle down.
"You're aware the Autumn Election is over."
Zane nodded.
"As tradition demands, hands-on training is next. Erina and Alice will be participating. And after seeing what you've built here… there's no place more suitable than this tavern."
Zane raised a brow. "Internships… here?"
Senzaemon smiled, voice low and heartfelt.
"Erina's path was nearly destroyed by her mother's obsession with perfection. I refuse to let that tragedy repeat. I believe—under your guidance—she will find her true self."
Across the room, Erina's eyes widened.
Zane remained silent for a moment.
He looked out the window at the falling dusk, then down at the empty wine bottle in the Director's hand.
And slowly, thoughtfully, nodded.
"Let's make this cooperation meaningful."