In the days that followed, Damian's name spread throughout the Totsuki Resort like a rare spice no one could identify, yet everyone wanted to taste. It didn't take long before the alumni began calling him "The Artisan," a title that had naturally emerged during the training camp exams. Each dish he created was a masterpiece—precise execution, refined aesthetics, impeccable flavor. Watching him cook was like watching an artist paint with pots and knives.
Nene, usually reserved and focused, began exchanging messages with him on social media. Their conversations ranged from recipes to everyday trivialities. Little by little, they grew more familiar with one another—like hot water seeping into tea leaves.
On the fourth day, Damian entered the practical exam room and saw an unmistakable face—Inui Hinako, casually playing with a pack of sunflower seeds as if she were at a picnic, not an intense test.
"Damian! Good afternoon! We meet again!" she said with a mischievous smile.
Damian let out a restrained sigh.
"Hinako, if you keep this up, people are going to say you're favoring me…"
"And what if I am? I'm sure you don't need it, Artisan! Ahahaha!"
Some students turned around at the nickname and the way they spoke to each other. The title wasn't official, of course, but among those who had witnessed his skills, "The Artisan" had become nearly mythical.
They addressed each other informally, almost as if they were the same age.
There was something about Damian that exuded effortless excellence. He was dazzling—not just because of his calm and confident appearance, but in the way he commanded the kitchen.
"Anyway… What's today's theme?"
"Ah... well... it's just that…" Inui scratched her head.
"I forgot while I was talking to you!"
"What?!" Several students nearly fell over in shock.
"Relax, everyone! I remember now! The theme is shrimp! I want a dish that brings refined texture and elegant flavor! You have two hours to prepare it! No groups this time. If the dish is too complicated or simply boring... you'll be eliminated!"
"SERIOUSLY?!" Chaos broke loose.
Students rushed for ingredients as if they were on a reality show. Watching them scramble, Damian felt like he was watching MasterChef. A girl with braided hair, in the middle of the frenzy, glanced at Damian and blushed before turning back to her shrimp selection.
Meanwhile, Damian remained seated, completely unfazed by the commotion.
"Hey, Damian, aren't you going to start your dish? You'll be eliminated at this rate."
"Two hours is more than enough. I figured a break would be nice," Damian replied as if he were reading a newspaper in a café.
Everyone stared, dumbfounded.
"This guy is a total monster…"
"He hasn't even started, and it feels like he already passed…"
"Gray-kun is so cool…!"
Nene, hearing that, scoffed in irritation and focused on what she did best—soba.
As the clock started counting down the two hours, Nene stepped forward like a silent warrior on the battlefield. Her eyes were as calm as ever, but within her burned a competitive fire.
"Soba is my territory. And if the theme is shrimp…" She quickly planned her dish, her gaze as sharp as a sushi knife.
First, she walked to the ingredient counter and carefully selected her shrimp—large, fresh, with translucent color and a crystal-like shine.
Not just any type, it was kuruma ebi, known for their sweet flavor and firm texture—perfect for enhancing a cold dish.
"Fresh shrimp and hand-made soba... I need to balance elegance and simplicity," she whispered to herself.
She began preparing the soba dough with frightening precision. Her fingers moved deftly, eyeballing the buckwheat flour, mixing with icy water, and controlling the moisture with delicate touches. Each movement seemed choreographed.
"She's not using any machines?" whispered a student in the back.
"She never does. They say the aroma of soba is lost if it isn't touched by the chef's hands..." another replied, full of reverence.
The dough was kneaded firmly yet gently, then rolled out with a wooden pin in wide, rhythmic strokes. The only sound in the kitchen was that of the dough being stretched and cut.
ZAAAH… ZAK… ZAK… ZAK...
The sound of the sharp blade slicing the soba noodles was music to the ears of those who knew the tradition. Each strand had the same width, the same thickness—as if drawn with a ruler.
Simultaneously, she began preparing the tsuyu—the dipping sauce for the cold noodles. She steeped dried bonito flakes, kombu seaweed, and artisan soy sauce in an iron pot. The deep aroma of the dashi began to fill the air.
"This aroma… it's so pure. It smells like the inside of a kaiseki restaurant," commented Inui, eyes half-closed, savoring the scent even before the food.
As for the shrimp, she avoided heavy frying. Instead, she used a subtler method: a quick poach in sake with Japanese herbs—just enough to firm the meat and bring out its natural sweetness. Then, she shocked them in ice water to preserve the texture.
Next came the finishing touch—a kakiage made of chopped shrimp, red onion, and shiso leaves, coated in an ultra-fine flour and fried in white sesame oil. The crunch was visible in the golden shine and delicate bubbles on the surface.
"She's combining two shrimp textures… a gentle poach and an aromatic crunch?!" exclaimed one student, shocked by the bold contrast.
In the last five minutes, Nene assembled her dish like someone performing a tea ceremony. The soba noodles were carefully coiled on the plate. Beside them, the jewel-like shrimp. On top, the golden kakiage, placed at the perfect angle. A sprig of myoga and a dab of yuzu kosho added freshness and elegance.
Finally, she served the chilled tsuyu in a separate bowl—with translucent ice floating on top like a crystal-clear lake. Next to it, a small bamboo brush for dipping the noodles however the diner pleased.
She looked at the completed dish, took a deep breath, and then walked over to Inui.
"This is a special cold soba with shrimp. Chef Hinako, please taste it," she said calmly.
---
A few minutes earlier…
Damian sat next to Inui and took a sunflower seed from her bag.
"Inui, did you come up with this exam yourself?"
"Of course I did! And if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have forgotten it," she replied with a little huff and a smile.
"Hm… I don't hear any sincerity in that."
"Oh! So now you want sincerity?"
Damian bit another seed and glanced around, watching the students cook with determination.
Inui pulled a new seed bag from somewhere (he had no idea where she got so many).
"You know, Damian… it feels like you want them to get better."
"Of course I do. Being alone at the top is boring. Good rivals add flavor to life."
"You've already caught the attention of Chef Dojima and the others. I bet the challenges are only going to get harder."
"That's what I'm hoping for."
"So… have you gotten used to Totsuki yet?"
Damian looked at the ceiling and sighed. "To be honest… I didn't expect to make so many friends so quickly. It's relaxing."
Inui went quiet for a second, touched by his confession. Then she asked curiously:
"Do you have any plans for the future?"
"Short or long term?"
"Short. Like, this year."
"Hm… Maybe face off against a member of the Elite Ten. Or participate in the Autumn Elections. I'll definitely pass the Stagiaire."
"Ah! The Stagiaire! You should come to my restaurant!"
Damian looked at her for a moment.
"You're finally giving me a chance?"
"H-hey! What are you thinking?! Silly Damian! Of course I… I just meant you'd be welcome to do your Stagiaire at my place. That's all!"
"And who exactly would be doing the cooking?"
"Pfft… I still want to see what you're capable of, Artisan..."
He chuckled, watching the other students. His gaze paused for a moment on Nene, who was working with quiet concentration. She looked beautiful like that, he thought.
"That's… beautiful."
"Huh? What is?"
"Nothing. Just… you look beautiful when you're focused too, Inui."
Inui blushed deeply, at a loss for words.
Meanwhile, Nene watched the two talking so naturally—and it bothered her. How had that eccentric woman gotten so close to Damian? And why did they seem to understand each other so well?! They were even on a first-name basis! That was… annoying!
But Damian didn't look her way again. He remained seated, relaxed, eyes closed. Inui watched him for a moment, then reached for more seeds… only to find the bag empty.
"Hey!" She lightly smacked Damian's shoulder, cheeks puffed.
Damian opened one eye and smiled from the corner of his lips.
"You little thief…"
Before she could complain, Nene approached.
"This is a special cold soba with shrimp. Chef Hinako, please taste it," she said serenely.
"Wow… it's beautiful."
Damian looked at the dish with interest, then into Nene's eyes. She met his gaze with a faint smile. Then, he grabbed another pack of seeds from Inui's mysterious stash and started snacking beside her.
"Hey! That's my sunflower seed bag!"
---
(End of Chapter)
Give me some power stones there you go~😉