The tavern operates from 7 PM to midnight.
This timing is crucial—most of the customers come here after a long day of work, maybe after pulling overtime or just finishing their regular shifts. They stop by for a few drinks and some appetizers, hoping to shake off the exhaustion and stress of the day.
Walking into Zane's tavern feels like coming home. The warm, inviting atmosphere lets people relax completely, and the food and drinks have a homely quality—simple yet satisfying. Customers don't just eat here; they experience the comforting taste of "home."
Still, most customers leave before midnight, needing to wake up early for work the next day. Right now, the tavern isn't swarmed with people every night despite its growing popularity. So, Zane is content to take it easy, closing shop at midnight.
Perhaps in the future, if the tavern gains even more recognition, he might consider extending the hours?
Time passes.
After finishing the beef burger, butterfish fries, and chocolate brownie, Erina doesn't leave right away. Instead, she sits there, quietly observing the customers coming and going.
Every so often, she steals a glance at Zane, watching as he uses his cooking to bring smiles to every person who walks through the door.
Before today, she firmly believed that truly refined cuisine required not only rare, high-quality ingredients but also a chef's exceptional skill—something that couldn't simply be learned through effort alone.
Talent, knowledge, and perspective were just as important as technique.
A chef from a rural area, someone who has never even seen or tasted an authentic black truffle, no matter how much they study, could never hope to create a truly exquisite black truffle dish.
That's why Erina always believed that culinary excellence was something only a select few could achieve. And as someone blessed with the God Tongue, she had always taken pride in that belief.
Yet Zane walked an entirely different path.
His small tavern was nothing like a five-star restaurant. The dishes he served were simple—appetizers, home-cooked meals, late-night snacks, and desserts.
Nothing extravagant. Nothing complex.
In fact, they were meals so straightforward that even an amateur cook could attempt to make them at home.
But somehow, Zane's cooking was different.
It was his understanding of food—his philosophy behind each dish—that set him apart.
Unlike chefs who cooked solely for prestige and profit, Zane had a genuine love for cooking. A love for food itself.
A hot beef burger.
Does it matter if it's made with toasted bread instead of a fancy artisanal bun?
Is it haute cuisine?
Is it common cuisine?
Who cares?
As Zane said earlier, a chef's job isn't to classify food into categories. It's to serve dishes that bring joy to the people who eat them.
Before coming to this tavern, before tasting these dishes, most of these customers never thought about those distinctions in the first place.
Hisako, who had been watching the cozy atmosphere of the tavern unfold, couldn't help but sigh softly.
"In this world, there are two things that should never be betrayed," she murmured to herself.
Love.
And good food.
Love is one of the most beautiful emotions a person can experience, bringing immense happiness and fulfillment.
And food—true food—is the same. It nourishes the soul, delivering warmth and emotion in every bite.
For example, every day, Hisako personally prepared medicinal meals for Erina.
These meals weren't just for nourishment; they were to help strengthen Erina's body, preventing exhaustion and the gradual deterioration caused by the God Tongue curse.
Cooking those meals wasn't easy. She often had to search through ancient texts, research rare medicinal herbs, and carefully balance every ingredient.
But none of that mattered.
Because every time she saw Erina take a bite and feel even the slightest bit better—just for a moment—it was all worth it.
Now, as she watched Zane cook, moving effortlessly from dish to dish, she could see that same passion in him.
He wasn't just feeding people. He was comforting them.
And in that moment, Hisako felt an unexpected sense of connection.
"This tavern," she whispered, "really is something special—just like Sonoka said."
Erina, lost in thought, nodded slightly in agreement.
After a while, noticing that Zane was finally free, Erina spoke up.
"Zane, right?"
Zane looked up at her, nodding slightly.
"How much for everything? The burger, the fries, and the brownie. How much do I owe you?"
Zane held up one hand, spreading his fingers.
"Five."
Erina frowned slightly.
"Five… Five hundred thousand yen?"
"Wait—"
"Huh?"
Zane blinked, momentarily stunned.
Five hundred thousand yen?
Did she really think his food was worth that much?
Maybe her background made it hard for her to grasp the concept of money.
Or… maybe, just maybe, she genuinely believed his cooking skills were worth that price.
Was she already that impressed by his food?
Zane chuckled, shaking his head.
"Take off two zeroes."
"Five thousand yen."
Erina froze.
"…What?"
She stared at him in disbelief.
"These dishes… all of them together are only five thousand yen?"
She suddenly remembered what Sonoka had told her before.
That a single skewer from this tavern, costing barely 100 yen, was more valuable than a 100,000 yen French foie gras dish at Shunkatei.
The value of a dish.
It depends on the ingredients, the cost, and, most importantly, the skill of the chef.
A dish is the result of multiple careful steps, each one requiring the chef's undivided attention.
No matter how rare the ingredients, if the chef lacks skill, their value is wasted.
On the other hand, even the most ordinary ingredients—when placed in the right hands—can be transformed into something truly remarkable.
And that was something Erina could not deny.
Yes.
Zane's ingredients were simple. Inexpensive. Ordinary.
By all logic, his food shouldn't be worth much at all.
But in Erina's eyes, based on his skills alone, every dish he made was worthy of being considered luxury cuisine.
"I really don't understand you," Erina finally muttered.
Zane simply smiled.
But if this was the price he set, then it wasn't her place to question it.
Besides, arguing about it wouldn't change anything.
"Hisako, pay him."
"I'm tired, and I just want to return to Totsuki and get some rest."
Hisako hesitated for only a moment before nodding.
"Of course, Miss Erina."
She pulled out 5000 yen from her pocket and handed it to Zane.
Before leaving, Erina turned back to him.
"Your food may have satisfied me," she said, her voice calm but resolute.
"But it didn't impress me."
"Because your philosophy on cooking is completely different from mine. You and I are destined to walk separate paths."
"In the future, I will prove that only noble cuisine can lead the culinary world forward."
"And your cooking—your entire way of thinking—will be swallowed up by time, disappearing forever."
Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.
"Thank you," Hisako said softly, pausing before following after her.
Zane watched them leave, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.
"…We'll see about that."