"Cough, cough!"
Mana Nakiri cleared her throat awkwardly, clearly caught off guard. She wasn't used to being flustered—especially not in front of a stranger. For someone like her, embarrassment was a rare, almost foreign feeling.
To regain her composure, she adjusted her posture, her tone becoming more formal and respectful.
"Ahem… let me introduce myself properly. I am Mana Nakiri, Chief Executive of the WGO Gourmet Organization."
Her gaze drifted to the man behind the counter—the one with eyes too calm, too unreadable.
"I came here because Anne mentioned your Buddha Jumps Over the Wall. She said it might be able to cure my… anorexia."
"Mm." Zane nodded, expression flat, hands folded.
"Unfortunately," he continued, "the tavern's closed tonight."
Mana's heart sank.
"But," he added, seeing the disappointment flash in her eyes, "there are still a few ingredients left. If you don't mind, I can whip up a simple dish—Comet Fried Rice."
"Comet Fried Rice?"
Mana blinked. The name alone piqued her curiosity.
"What kind of fried rice is that?"
"Nothing fancy," Zane said calmly. "Just vegetable fried rice. Spinach and bok choy."
That made her hesitate.
Spinach and bok choy? After hearing the name of such a majestic dish?
From Buddha Jumps Over the Wall to… leftover greens?
She'd eaten ingredients so rare, so exclusive, that some weren't even available on the open market. Just days ago, she'd sampled an extremely rare sturgeon caviar—only to nearly throw up from how disgustingly bland it was.
And now she was supposed to get excited over vegetable fried rice?
Mana wanted to scoff. But something about Zane's tone—completely confident, utterly unconcerned—made her hold back.
He doesn't need to beg me to try it.
No. He knows I'll want to.
A feeling she hadn't known in years crept in:
Anticipation.
"…Fine."
"We'll do it your way."
She watched as Zane moved silently behind the counter.
He didn't rush. Didn't flaunt anything. But with every movement, Mana could sense a frightening level of precision.
Anne, standing beside her, was already holding her breath.
Mana had long forgotten what it meant to enjoy food.
Everything tasted like ash in her mouth. Her so-called God Tongue had become a curse—a hypersensitive palate that turned every dish into a torment.
The tiniest imperfection. The slightest imbalance. It all screamed at her senses.
Eating had become unbearable.
In the end, she'd simply stopped.
Her body began to deteriorate. Her mind followed. Depression, anxiety, the creeping fear of death—they swirled like a storm inside her.
Some days, she couldn't even get out of bed.
Other days, she wished she never had to.
And yet, despite all of it… she still loved food.
Still loved cooking.
She'd endured everything in the faint hope that, someday, she'd taste something that would remind her what it felt like—
To be full.
First step:
Wash the spinach, bok choy, and green onions.
Zane worked with quiet confidence, his movements crisp and elegant.
The green onions were sliced into neat sections. The leafy greens were finely chopped, almost like confetti.
He filled a pot with water, added lard and a pinch of salt, and brought it to a rolling boil.
Then, he blanched the greens, just long enough to soften their bitterness. After thirty seconds, they went straight into an ice bath—locking in color, texture, and vibrancy.
It was a subtle step. Most chefs would've skipped it.
But Zane? He didn't cut corners.
Blanching removed the oxalic acid—a compound that interferes with calcium and iron absorption, and could irritate sensitive stomachs like Mana's.
He wasn't just cooking.
He was customizing the dish—for her.
Next came the fire.
Zane placed a heavy, seasoned Chinese iron wok onto the flame.
He added oil, waited, then sautéed half the green onions on low heat.
A soft aroma bloomed in the tavern.
Then—rice.
Each grain separate, yet dancing with the oil and onions.
Next, the greens were folded in—spinach and bok choy shimmering like jade under firelight.
Crackle.
Crackle.
The sound echoed like music.
To the untrained eye, it was just stir-frying.
To Mana—this was artistry.
His timing. His control. His mastery over heat and motion.
It was hypnotic.
Her heart skipped a beat.
And then came the climax.
Zane's expression sharpened. He took a slow breath.
With a twist of his body and a surge of power—
He flipped the entire wok.
The rice and greens exploded upward, forming an elegant arc in the air.
A burst of green and white against the dimly lit ceiling.
Each grain of rice, each sliver of bok choy, glittered like stars.
Swoosh.
Swoosh.
Swoosh.
If the ceiling light was the moon, then these ingredients were comets—trailing emerald tails as they descended toward the waiting plate.
Bang!
The dish landed perfectly, the surface sculpted with a natural curve—like a crater left by a falling star.
Zane wasn't finished.
In one smooth motion, he sprinkled the rest of the green onion segments from above.
Like the finishing stroke of a painting.
The fragrance intensified.
The visuals sharpened.
And then—
The plate began to glow.
Literally.
Faint green light sparkled off the surface of the fried rice. The chopped greens pulsed with a soft, natural luminance—like they were absorbing moonlight.
Mana blinked.
"Huh?"
What's going on?
If the flipping rice had been a comet…
Then this glow was its tail—a supernatural afterimage, illuminating the entire tavern in radiant green.
She could hardly believe her eyes.
"It's… glowing?"
Her mouth went dry.
Anne looked just as stunned.
This is just vegetable fried rice?
Mana's heart pounded against her ribs.
She hadn't even taken a bite.
But somehow, her body already knew—
This dish… might shatter her sky.