Alice stood up sharply, tossing The Stick of Valor: Revenge Saga aside like it was something scandalous.
She fixed Erina with a half-playful, half-incredulous look.
"You barge into my villa… just to accuse me of reading this kind of manga?"
Erina's face turned crimson, a mix of embarrassment and rising irritation.
"Manga?"
"Isn't this yours?"
Alice blinked, then suddenly smirked as realization dawned.
"Ah… I get it. You're just afraid I'd find out you're into this kind of stuff, so you've been secretly hiding them from me?"
"Nonsense!" Erina snapped, flustered.
"Of course not! Those—those are Hisako's! Yes, she must have accidentally left them here!"
Even Erina didn't sound convinced by her own excuse.
Alice chuckled, folding her arms with a victorious smile.
"Right. Hisako's, huh? Sure, sure. I totally understand."
Erina scowled, grabbed the manga off the table, and sat down on the farthest edge of the couch, keeping an almost galactic distance between them.
The atmosphere froze.
Neither spoke.
Neither moved.
Their gazes occasionally met, then immediately darted away.
Finally, unable to stand the awkwardness, Erina sighed and broke the silence.
"So? What did you come here for this time?"
Alice gave a casual shrug and reached for a chilled, elegant box on the table.
"I brought you something."
"Dragon Song Strawberries. I want your opinion—do they need more work?"
She opened the box, revealing a row of gleaming, glass-like strawberries.
Each one sparkled as if carved from a jewel.
Erina blinked, surprised.
"So you really made them…"
Her first instinct was to decline. She had little interest in molecular cuisine anymore. But curiosity got the better of her. Part of her wanted to see just how far Alice had come.
Reluctantly, she picked up a spoon.
With a soft crack, she shattered the sugar shell. A swirl of jam followed, steaming slightly against the cold shell.
She took a bite.
The temperature difference—nearly 300 degrees from core to shell—created an explosion of texture and sensation.
Cold.
Hot.
Sweet.
Sour.
Crisp.
Soft.
The outer casing gave way to a smooth, mousse-like center, layered with complexity. It was clearly a dish made with care, science, and obsession.
When she finally swallowed, the aftertaste lingered—sweet and nostalgic, with a touch of citrus warmth.
Alice looked at her, eyes full of hope.
"Well?"
"What do you think?"
Erina paused, letting the flavors settle.
"…It's fine," she said at last.
"The flavor development is rich. But it's not… incredible."
Alice's smile froze.
Erina continued, cool and clinical.
"Alice."
"Cooking is about harmony. It's about the ingredient, the technique, the seasoning, the environment."
"I don't hate molecular gastronomy. In fact, your use of high-precision tools and scientific methods is impressive."
"But your cooking…" She leaned forward.
"…often misses the soul of the ingredient."
"This Dragon Song Strawberry? You broke it down, pureed it, froze it at ultra-low temperatures—then reconstructed it to look like a strawberry. But it only looks like one."
"The essence, the texture, the raw vitality of the fruit… it's gone."
"In short, your methods are clever. But impractical. You're circling around the ingredient instead of working with it."
Alice's eyes widened. Her lips trembled.
"Erina."
"I didn't bring this for you to lecture me."
"I brought it because I wanted you to see how much I've grown."
"Why do you always have to tear it apart?"
Her voice cracked with emotion.
"Do you ever think about how I feel?"
Erina stood, her gaze steely.
"Feelings have no place in a real kitchen."
"If this is your level, Alice, you might as well drop out of Totsuki now."
"Because cooking like this will only be trampled by the real competition."
Alice stared at her, stunned.
She wanted to scream. To shout back. But no words came.
Only silence.
Erina turned her back, striding toward the door.
"If you want to know the difference between us—"
"Then come with me."
They walked in silence to Erina's personal kitchen.
Alice, still reeling from the scolding, followed closely.
And then—
Hiss.
Steam roared up from the steamer.
Erina lifted the lid, and from the mist, a majestic, coiling red "dragon" made from steam and thin dough seemed to rise, tail-first, from a bamboo tray.
Alice's jaw dropped.
"What the—"
"Is that… a dumpling?"
"Why is it standing upright like that?"
She'd never seen presentation like this before.
"It's my Ascending Dragon Dumpling," Erina said, eyes fierce.
"Taste it. And then you'll understand what you're doing wrong."
Alice, stunned into silence, picked up a single shrimp dumpling and took a bite.
It hit her instantly.
The texture of the wrapper—silky and elastic.
The shrimp—fresh and springy.
The broth—explosive, aromatic, rich with umami.
Each bite delivered balance. Restraint. Emotion.
Alice's eyes widened.
She was speechless.
And in that moment, she knew—
She had lost.
Utterly. Completely.
Not because Erina humiliated her.
But because Erina's food… made her feel something hers never had.
And that hurt more than any critique ever could.