The venue for A Block's Autumn Election preliminaries was ablaze with fervor. The searing heat of competition hung heavy in the air, mingled with the electrified whispers of the audience. Everywhere you looked, students leaned forward in anticipation, spectators waved glow sticks or clutched their programs tightly, and judges steeled themselves for the coming onslaught of flavors.
Everywhere except one corner.
Because at that very moment, a stench descended upon the hall.
It wasn't just bad.
It was catastrophic.
A gut-punch of rotting fish, acrid fermentation, expired seafood left out under a tropical sun — a scent so foul that noses wrinkled in synchronized agony.
"Ugh! What is that smell?!"
"Is something… decomposing?!"
"Are we under chemical attack?!"
Contestants and spectators alike turned toward the origin of the nasal assault. Their eyes landed on Nao Sadatsuka, who stood calmly beside a pot of steaming, sludge-like curry, her expression as twisted and gleeful as ever.
The dish, if one could call it that, looked like a tar pit had boiled over into a seafood market dumpster. It was dull, sticky, and shrouded in a black sheen that absorbed light. A few nearby spectators physically recoiled, covering their noses or turning away.
"This should be classified as a biological weapon…" someone muttered.
Even Anne, the usually sweet and shy announcer, couldn't suppress a gag. "U-Uh… Contestant Nao Sadatsuka will now present her dish to the judges."
Shingo, frail and scholarly as ever, adjusted his glasses and stared down at the bowl before him with trepidation. His brows furrowed in disbelief.
"That darkness… Is that squid ink?"
Nao's lips curled into a sharp grin. "Exactly. Black magic squid ink—used to awaken the hidden senses. My dish… is a Laksa Curry."
A pause.
A gulp.
Shingo hesitated. He was no stranger to challenging flavors, but the odor wafting from the bowl tested the limits of his professionalism.
Yet he was a judge—and a proud one.
With reluctant grace, he dipped his spoon and took a bite.
Then he blinked. His eyes widened.
"…Huh?"
The entire room leaned in as Shingo, voice trembling, declared:
"It's… It's delicious!"
Gasps spread like wildfire through the hall.
Nao's laksa curry, for all its rancid smell, exploded with complexity upon tasting. Its sourness was sharp but layered, followed by a wave of warmth from the chili, mellowed by the creamy sweetness of coconut milk. The fishy rot that haunted the air transformed into a savory umami when eaten, melded with hand-ground spices like lemongrass, shrimp paste, tamarind, and galangal. Her use of squid ink gave the curry a depth of briny richness rarely seen in laksa.
"Incredible," Shingo muttered. "A dish so foul-smelling, yet so refined in flavor. The complexity… the richness… This is medicinal in its own way."
Indeed, the concept of "smelly but delicious" wasn't new. Durian, stinky tofu, and snail noodles all thrived on this paradox. The key lay in the difference between orthonasal and retronasal olfaction—the former triggering disgust when inhaled through the nose, the latter enhancing taste when experienced during chewing.
Nao had weaponized this.
In a clay pot, she had fried her homemade curry paste, slowly building layers of flavor. The inclusion of fermented salted fish, deboned and simmered until melt-in-the-mouth soft, lent a pungency that lingered seductively.
And when the score appeared:
87 points.
The audience exploded.
"She actually did it?!"
"Second place now?!"
"She's ahead of Mito Ikumi!"
Nao cackled softly, reveling in her dark glory. "Heh… not bad for something people wanted to throw in the trash, huh?"
Anne recovered from her shock and announced breathlessly, "Nao Sadatsuka receives 87 points! Now in second place, right behind Kurokiba Ryo!"
Current Standings – A Block:
Kurokiba Ryo – 91 pts
Nao Sadatsuka – 87 pts
Ikumi Mito – 87 pts
Ibusaki Shun – 86 pts
A quiet breath.
And then another name echoed through the chamber.
"Next contestant—Hisako Arato!"
A bowl of steaming soup was gently placed before the judges. Hisako stood tall, her pink eyes determined, a silent message carried across the room as she gazed at Erina in the judges' row.
Miss… Please watch me.
The soup shimmered under the light—a golden, almost radiant broth with tender slices of pink lamb and emerald rings of bitter melon floating gently within. The aroma was unlike anything before it: medicinal, clean, earthy—and surprisingly comforting.
One judge took a hesitant sip.
Then froze.
A warmth spread from tongue to chest, blooming like a flower inside their ribcage.
"This is…!"
"The bitterness of the melon is softened… almost sweet."
"The lamb, so often gamey and strong, is tender, delicate… it dances in the mouth."
"Cold and hot. Yin and Yang."
Indeed, the soup used four traditional Chinese herbs: Angelica sinensis, Chuanxiong, white peony root, and rehmannia—each working in concert to regulate blood and restore vitality. The bitter melon provided a cooling counterpoint to the warmth of the lamb, resulting in a balanced duality.
Shingo, who had once looked like he could barely lift a book, now appeared to awaken a dormant strength.
He stood.
His muscles swelled.
His voice thundered.
His once-frail body became a warrior's, forged by the elixir of flavor itself.
Score: 90 points.
Cheers erupted.
Hisako clasped her hands. "Thank you," she whispered to herself.
Updated Standings – A Block:
Kurokiba Ryo – 91 pts
Hisako Arato – 90 pts
Nao Sadatsuka – 87 pts
Ikumi Mito – 87 pts
Then came the inevitable descent.
As the next few contestants presented their dishes, the scores plummeted. One received 18 points, another—a shockingly dismal 8.
Laughter broke out in the crowd.
"Single digits? Seriously?"
"Is that a joke dish?"
Anne, flustered, wiped sweat from her brow. "N-Next contestant… Yukihira Soma!"
Soma stepped forward, casual as ever, and placed his dish before the judges.
"Beef. Potatoes. Carrots. Onions. Curry."
That was it.
The judges blinked.
"Is this a school lunch dish?" someone muttered.
Shingo's eye twitched. "This is not worth tasting. It's too ordinary."
Soma only smiled. "Sometimes, it's the ordinary that's hardest to perfect."
The judges hesitated—but took a bite.
Then another.
Then…
Silence.
Each spoonful revealed depth: tender beef braised for hours, sweetness from slow-cooked onions, harmony in spice, and an umami bomb from miso-infused curry base. A drizzle of garlic oil completed the profile.
Shingo's stern mask cracked. "This… this surpasses Mito's Masaman curry."
Score: 90 points.
The crowd went wild.
"He's tied with Hisako?!"
"That's revenge! He lost to Ikumi before but just took the spotlight!"
Hisako blinked. Her expression fell ever so slightly.
Then, like a storm, Ryo Kurokiba stepped forward.
His dish?
Puff Pastry Soup.
At first glance, it was a golden dome of perfection—shiny, flaky, and rising like the crest of a wave.
Then the crust was cracked.
Boom.
An explosion of aroma filled the hall. Meat juices, vegetables, herbs, wine—it was the harmony of land and sea encased in a single bowl.
"This is insane."
"I can smell it from ten meters away!"
"A dish that tells a story."
Underneath the crust: tender seafood, rich consommé, and spice-infused oils pooled together in symphony.
Score: 92 points.
A new leader.
Final A Block Standings:
Ryo Kurokiba – 92 pts
Hisako Arato – 90 pts
Soma Yukihira – 90 pts
Nao Sadatsuka – 87 pts
Backstage, Hisako clenched her fists.
She'd made it to the top four—but tied with Soma?
"Sorry, Miss," she said quietly, walking to Erina with her head bowed. "I let you down."
Erina smiled gently, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"You did well, Hisako. Ryo's sense of smell is… exceptional. To stay so close behind him proves your talent."
Hisako looked up, the corners of her lips lifting slightly.
The battle of flavors had only just begun.
And the next block was still waiting.