A hushed silence blanketed the hall.
"Over 80 points?"
Gasps echoed among the students and audience alike. So far, the highest scores in Block B had barely scratched the high thirties. A sudden leap to 87 was nothing short of shocking—a gap that instantly exposed the difference in cooking caliber between the casual hopefuls and those chosen by the Elite Ten themselves.
The murmurs still rippled through the crowd when a new voice cut in, confident and clear.
"Great. It's finally my turn."
Yuuki Yoshino, sleeves rolled up and eyes sparkling with focus, stepped forward. She carefully placed her dish—braised chicken in rich curry-infused marinade—before the three judges.
Unlike many contestants who played it safe with familiar curry rice or katsu, Yuuki had walked a tighter culinary rope. She had fused traditional Chinese braising methods with Japanese curry elements, creating a fusion dish that looked deceptively simple.
Natsume, one of the judges, raised an eyebrow. "Braised chicken?"
To some, it might've seemed uninspired. But Yuuki's confident smile hinted otherwise.
"Many beginners confuse braised chicken with stewed or roasted chicken," she began, her voice warm and instructive, "but true braised chicken focuses on marinade penetration rather than just stewing. Roast chicken needs to be baked or deep-fried. Stewed chicken boils for long hours. But braised chicken? It's blanched, then gently steeped in a fragrant bath of spices and allowed to mature in old broth over time."
Natsume leaned in, intrigued.
"You used eight-spice old soup method, didn't you?" she asked, spotting the glistening hue of the chicken and the aromatic vapors wafting upward.
Yuuki nodded. "Yes. My marinade includes amomum, tsaoko, dried tangerine peel, amomum cardamom, clove, cinnamon, angelica dahurica, and galangal. But beyond just selecting the right spices, I followed the traditional principle of jun, chen, zuo, shi—roles that spices play in balancing the dish."
Fan Zhongyan once wrote, 'If not a good prime minister, then a good doctor.' That same philosophy guided Yuuki's spice blend. The jun—king spices like cinnamon and angelica—formed the foundation of flavor. The chen—ministers like galangal and tsaoko—supported and rounded out the main aroma. The zuo—assistants like dried tangerine peel—added complexity and medicinal balance. And shi—messengers like amomum cardamom—harmonized everything.
"But the real key," she added, "was keeping the steeping time between 30 and 60 minutes—enough to draw out depth without bitterness."
Natsume picked up her chopsticks and slowly lifted a piece of the chicken. It gleamed with a lacquered sheen, subtly perfumed, tender to the touch.
The moment it touched her tongue, her eyes widened slightly. The meat surrendered instantly—melting into a velvety flood of spice, umami, and curry warmth. No trace of gaminess, no imbalance in flavor.
"With such precise heat control, the marinade has completely penetrated the meat," she murmured. "This is… shockingly well done."
The other judges nodded in agreement, their plates quickly emptied.
The score popped onto the screen moments later: 88 points.
Yuuki blinked in disbelief. A full point above Miyoko's 87. The cold sweat she had tried to hide now slid freely down her brow.
"I-I made it?" she whispered. Then, smiling brightly, she added aloud, "Guess all those sleepless nights with the marinade paid off."
She stepped back, heart pounding. She had taken a risk by submitting braised chicken—worrying the judges might find it too traditional, too slow, or off-theme. But with a curry infusion and technique this sharp, her gamble had paid off.
Next up was Ryoko Sakaki, another stalwart of the Polar Star Dormitory.
"My turn," she said, pushing her cart forward with quiet resolve. "Let's see if my curry bagel can match up."
Natsume squinted. "A… bagel?"
"Yes, curry-flavored bagel. Something portable, something modern—but still rooted in spice," Ryoko explained.
Bagels weren't the first thing that came to mind when someone heard 'curry'. But Ryoko's approach was clever. She combined the healthy charm of bagels—a dieter's staple—with a deeply infused curry dough and filling.
The dough itself was made with high-gluten flour, yeast, sugar, salt, and water, but what stood out were the additions: coconut milk for richness, sesame seeds for aroma, cheese for body, and a hand-ground curry spice blend. Vanilla seeds—scraped from precious vanilla pods—added an unexpected layer of depth, taming any egginess and lifting the curry notes.
She had steamed the dough briefly before baking, ensuring a smooth crust with an airy but chewy crumb. The curry filling, meanwhile, was compact yet potent—concentrated flavor packed inside the bagel's tender ring.
The judges each took a bite. At first, their faces showed puzzlement—but then came understanding. Surprise. Then nods of approval.
The sweetness of coconut, the heat of spices, the cheese's richness—it all came together with the chewy, toasted crust.
Another 88 points.
A tie with Yuuki.
The audience erupted into a murmur of surprise. Two dormmates in joint first place? That was unheard of.
Meanwhile, the scoreboard for Block B was shaping up fast. Out of the 30 contestants, 28 had already been judged:
Takumi Aldini held the top spot so far with a stunning 90 points, earned from his intricate Italian-style curry duck with balsamic glaze.
Subaru Mimasaka, infamous for copying techniques, had mimicked Takumi's dish down to the garnish and scored 89 points.
Yuuki and Ryoko shared third with 88.
Poor Miyoko sat just below the cutoff with 87, her face tight with suppressed frustration.
And then… a chilling voice rang out.
"Tch. Still no one's broken past 90? Guess I'll have to be the one to shatter the ceiling."
Alice Nakiri stepped up, her signature white braid and crimson eyes drawing all attention to the futuristic setup on her station.
The judges barely had time to react before a metallic dome slid onto their table—clouds of smoke swirling beneath.
"W-what is this?" Chihiro muttered. Even the audience leaned in closer as the cameras zoomed in.
Alice gently removed the cover. A wave of cold mist billowed out, revealing—
Something unrecognizable.
Curry chicken… in capsule form?
Small, jelly-like domes rested atop a gleaming yellow foam. Edible film held together tiny spheres filled with curry essence. On one side, a perfectly curved white protein ribbon rested—almost too elegant to eat.
"Liquid nitrogen?" Chihiro guessed, touching the cold dome.
Alice shook her head. "Not exactly. This isn't just about temperature. This is about transformation. Curry, reimagined on a molecular level."
The judges hesitated, confused, hesitant—until Natsume, curiosity overtaking caution, reached for a spoon.
One bite.
Silence.
Then another.
And then—
"A masterpiece," she breathed. "I've never tasted anything like it."
She was smiling. Not just politely, but earnestly—like a child tasting something magical for the first time.
The crowd watched in awe. From traditional braising to portable bagels to scientific reformation of curry into edible art—it was clear: this wasn't just a cooking contest anymore.
It was a war of culinary philosophy.
And the battlefield had just shifted.