Can a chef really rule the world?
It was a question no one had ever been able to answer—because the answer, if it existed, was buried somewhere between flavor and fate.
Even legends like Joichiro Yukihira, Mana Nakiri, and Senzaemon Nakiri—individuals whose culinary skills had shaken generations—had failed to dominate the world alone.
Talent alone was never enough.
But tonight, as the Director of Totsuki sat in the warmth of Zane's tavern, sipping mulled wine and glancing discreetly at the man who had caused so many ripples in the food world, he couldn't help but think:
If anyone could reshape the culinary world in the coming years… it would be him.
Zane.
He wasn't just a genius.
He was a mystery wrapped in calm confidence. And above all, he rejected the path that others would have clung to for glory.
The Director had long hoped Zane would join Totsuki Academy—not just as a teacher or a student, but as something else entirely. With the Nakiri family's influence and resources behind him, Zane could have carved a new golden age of cooking in just three to five years. The possibilities were staggering.
But Zane wasn't interested in that route.
He didn't care for politics, power plays, or institutional prestige. He wanted something else—something simpler, warmer, and perhaps… freer.
And so, collaboration between the two had never truly begun.
Until now.
Totsuki & The Tavern: A New Partnership
The Director had approached this visit cautiously. He knew he couldn't push Zane—pressure only made the young chef more elusive. Instead, he had tried a different angle: helping the tavern, where Zane had finally built a place to belong.
Totsuki's students needed real-world experience.
Zane needed help.
The solution? Interns.
"The tavern indeed needs more hands right now," Zane admitted casually, folding his arms.
"I'd be more than happy to have some interns help out."
The words were simple, but to the Director, they rang like a triumphal fanfare.
"Excellent!" he said, standing up abruptly with more energy than his age should allow. He extended a hand, eager and almost childishly excited.
Zane blinked, a little stunned by the enthusiasm, but offered a steady handshake.
And just like that—in front of Erina, Megumi, and the others—the historic handshake was sealed.
Totsuki Academy and Zane's tavern had formed their first official collaboration.
Sweetness After Spice
Soon after, Zane found himself back in the kitchen, hands dusted in flour, eyes focused as he worked silently with the same rhythm he always did.
After the fiery, vibrant Tom Yum soup he had served earlier, what came next might have seemed like a sharp left turn: glutinous rice balls.
The base was simple: glutinous rice flour and warm water. But to Zane, even simple things could be transformed into moments of wonder.
He kneaded the dough slowly, adjusting moisture as needed, until it reached the ideal elasticity—soft, pliable, almost silken. Then he divided it into portions and added color.
One section was mixed with matcha powder, yielding a subtle green. Another was blended with fruit powders—vibrant purple and mellow yellow, creating an appealing contrast.
Meanwhile, he steamed sliced purple sweet potatoes until they turned soft and fragrant. These were mashed, combined with milk and sugar, then sifted into a creamy filling—smooth, fragrant, and naturally sweet.
The dough was wrapped around the filling, rolled into perfect spheres, and dropped gently into boiling water. Once they floated, they were scooped out, cooled in water, and finally skewered.
Drizzled in golden honey. Sprinkled with coconut flakes.
The result was a playful, jewel-toned snack—soft yet firm, rustic yet elegant.
A Scholar's Delight
Jun Shiomi had watched from the side, her scientific mind ticking with curiosity.
But when the dish was finally served, all her academic restraint melted away.
"W-Wow!" she gasped, hands instinctively flying to her cheeks. Her eyes lit up with childlike wonder. "They're so round… and colorful… and cute…"
Yellow, purple, white.
It looked like a trio of plump little children wrapped in baby blankets, each one glistening softly beneath the warm lights of the tavern.
She stared.
She swallowed.
And finally, she caved.
"Zane, I—I want some glutinous rice balls too!"
"You just had spicy soup," Zane noted, raising a brow. "Can you still eat?"
"Yes!" she nodded earnestly. "Absolutely!"
Chuckling under his breath, Zane turned back into the kitchen. Not long after, a fresh plate was placed before her.
Jun Shiomi didn't hesitate.
The moment she bit in—
"Ah… mmm…"
Her eyes closed. Her whole body relaxed.
"These are amazing! Soft and chewy, sweet but not too sweet, and the texture—so smooth!"
She took another bite.
"The filling is warm, the dough is tender… Oh! Purple sweet potato. That fluffiness—it perfectly balances the stickiness of the glutinous rice!"
She spoke like someone unlocking the secrets of the universe through flavor.
Each taste note brought delight. Each contrast brought surprise. As a food scientist, she appreciated every layer. As a woman, she was utterly charmed.
The Secret Warmth of Hospitality
Just as she finished her last skewer, Megumi arrived with a small bowl of something creamy and warm.
"Professor Shiomi, here's some double-skin milk," she said with a gentle smile. "The owner made it just for you. The glutinous rice balls are great, but they can be a little dry, so he wanted to serve something to balance it out."
"It's free."
Jun Shiomi blinked.
"Free?"
Megumi nodded. "It's part of the tavern's hospitality. We want our customers to feel cared for."
Jun Shiomi stared at the bowl.
In her heart, something shifted.
She didn't need free dessert. But the thought—the care—was what truly moved her.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Double-Skin Milk: A Gentle Masterpiece
Milk.
Egg whites.
Sugar.
Steam.
The process was deceptively simple but rooted in heritage. The milk was first heated to form a thin skin, cooled, then carefully opened and poured into another bowl, leaving the delicate surface intact. Then came the mixture—milk, egg white, and sugar—poured back and gently steamed.
A second skin formed.
Hence the name: double-skin milk.
Jun Shiomi took a bite.
Warmth spread across her tongue like the first rays of morning sunlight. The texture—silky and creamy—felt almost unreal.
The subtle aroma of egg, the comforting richness of milk, the hint of sweetness that never overstayed its welcome.
"This is…" she whispered, eyes wide. "This is… divine."
Nutty aromas, milky depth, a light finish—it was the kind of dessert that didn't shout for attention but earned devotion with quiet grace.
"It's like… a spring breeze," she said softly. "I've never had such wonderful double-skin milk in my life."
She looked up at the tavern's ceiling.
This place. This place was dangerous. Too warm. Too comforting. Too delicious.
She was already thinking about when to come again.
Nightfall Reflections
Outside, the silver moon cast its quiet glow over the city, filtering through tree branches in threads of light.
It was well past midnight.
The tavern, which stayed open until 2 a.m., had begun winding down.
Jun Shiomi sat at her table, a bit tipsy, utterly full, and completely content.
She had come reluctantly, dragged here by Ryo, half-expecting nothing special. She had thought, "How good could this tavern really be?"
Now she knew.
Zane had not only served a perfect mulled wine. He'd crafted a Tom Yum soup with depth beyond its ingredients. He had mastered sweets and created hospitality experiences without pretense.
He hadn't spoken of his skills.
He simply showed them.
And that… made all the difference.
She left that night smiling, heart full and cheeks rosy, just like every other first-time guest.
Closing Time: Shifts of Fate
While customers trickled out, Megumi stayed behind, wiping tables, sweeping floors, cleaning utensils, helping Zane wash vegetables, trim meat, and pack up for the night.
Erina watched silently from the side.
She had originally come to take Megumi back—to convince her that this tavern stint was just a detour.
But watching Megumi smile so freely, laugh with Zane and the regulars, move with purpose and joy—
She began to question it.
Maybe… letting her stay wasn't such a bad idea.
Gratitude and Goodbye
As the Director put on his coat, preparing to leave, he turned back toward Zane.
"Zane," he said, voice thick with sincerity, "thank you again. Erina and Alice—my granddaughters—are the future of the Nakiri family. And I know only you can guide them properly."
He smiled faintly.
"Honestly, I came here tonight ready to beg. I never imagined you'd agree so readily."
Zane chuckled, wiping his hands on a towel.
"No need for thanks," he said. "It's mutually beneficial. And between us… just sending your two granddaughters isn't enough."
The Director laughed loudly, nodding.
"Well said."
He stepped out into the night, Erina following reluctantly.
As they walked, she turned back briefly, eyes lingering on Megumi one last time.
"Miss…"
Megumi stood quietly, watching them go.
She felt a pang in her chest.
But she also felt happy.
She had found a place she could call home.
[Ding!]
[Host successfully checked in once.]
[Congratulations! New rewards unlocked:]
New Recipe: Zao Liu Fish Fillets
New Special Recipe: Plum Fried Rice
New Cooking Tool: Po Jun Knife
Zane's eyes flickered.
His thoughts briefly wandered—to the streets of his homeland, the aroma of fish cooked in osmanthus wine, the sweetness of preserved plums, the rhythmic scrape of iron woks against flame.
These were not just recipes.
They were memories.
They were soul.