Set Meals.
As the name suggests, these are fixed combinations—like bento boxes or combo platters. The variety often depends on how many different sets the chef can offer. Back when Joichiro and Soma ran Restaurant Yukihira, they posted a handwritten menu every day, and customers chose from that list. It was a simple business model, totally different from the one at Zane's Tavern, where customers could order anything they pleased.
Of course, Yukihira specialized in hearty portions at low prices. The dishes weren't usually complex, and while most were average, there were rare moments when the food would surprise even the pickiest eater.
"Time really flies."
Joichiro sat back with a soft sigh.
"Has it already been a month since the diner closed?"
This cozy, dimly-lit tavern brought back memories of his days working side by side with Soma. He had considered reopening Yukihira for a few days during his visit to Totsuki—if only to serve the regulars one more time—but ultimately, he decided against it. After all, the future of that place didn't belong to him anymore.
It belonged to Soma.
"My era's come and gone," Joichiro muttered to himself with a wry smile.
"Now it's his turn."
Across from him, Zane wiped down the counter in practiced motions, and Joichiro, almost on instinct, pulled out some bills from his wallet.
"Meeting you tonight, Mr. Zane, was a rare pleasure. Unfortunately, I've got other matters to handle. I'll be heading off now."
Zane raised an eyebrow.
"I already told you—this meal's on me, Senior."
Isami, who had been quietly finishing his drink, quickly stood and added his own money to the counter.
Zane chuckled. "Then I'll take half from each of you. Fair enough?"
Joichiro gave a small laugh in return. "Thanks for the hospitality. I'll be back."
There was something about Zane that Joichiro found oddly compelling. Part of him wanted to stay longer, maybe even challenge the young man to a duel in the kitchen. But there were other matters pressing at him—urgent, dangerous matters. So, he left, with Isami silently following behind.
As their silhouettes disappeared into the night, Zane stood in place, eyes lingering on the empty plates they left behind.
After a moment, he silently gathered them up and returned to serving the rest of his customers.
Later that night, the Tavern finally began winding down.
Erina, Alice, and Megumi hadn't visited lately. It was the kind of quiet only a true local could appreciate.
Zane looked up, only to find one person still seated: Rindo Kobayashi.
He frowned.
"I say, it's already midnight—why haven't you left?"
Rindo pouted.
"I'm still hungry!"
Zane gave her a flat look. "I made you five lion's head meatballs the size of baseballs. That and a bowl of rice wasn't enough?"
"You know my appetite," Rindo huffed, folding her arms.
"Besides, that seabream dish earlier just opened up my stomach more!"
Her snake-like eyes sparkled mischievously. She remembered the last time she "accidentally" got drunk here and ended up crashing the night… only to score a free breakfast the next morning.
This time, she was hoping for a repeat performance.
Zane gave her a look of utter deadpan.
"I can see right through you."
Still, he relented.
"Since Sonoka's still here helping me prep, I was going to make dinner after closing anyway. You can stay and eat—then leave."
Rindo's eyes lit up instantly.
"You're the best, Zane!"
He sighed. He'd changed since arriving in this world. Especially when it came to women.
But Rindo had been the first friend he made here—and a loyal regular. Giving her a few extra meals was the least he could do.
[Ding!]
[You have successfully checked in.]
[Reward unlocked: Special Recipe – Golden Ratio Shaomai!]
After Rindo finally left, fully satisfied, Sonoka also finished her shift and returned to Shunkatei, exhausted but content.
Zane was just about to wash up and call it a night when the daily system prompt appeared. This time, it came with something special: a recipe.
Golden Ratio Shaomai.
The "golden ratio" is a mathematical term—a perfect proportion of approximately 0.618. It's known for its aesthetic balance, appearing in everything from art to architecture.
This shaomai recipe used that principle:
8 parts meat, 5 parts shrimp paste, 5 parts vegetables, 5 parts egg.
The meat served as the foundation, with just the right amount of each ingredient to complement it, without overshadowing anything. Each bite promised a harmony of four distinct, mouthwatering flavors.
It was, in short, a masterpiece.
Zane smiled.
His cooking skills had grown steadily since opening the Tavern—but the daily check-in system had pushed him to heights few could imagine.
Let others envy. He was content.
Elsewhere, deep in the halls of Totsuki Academy…
Moonlight filtered through towering glass windows. The night wind was crisp, gently rattling the sheer curtains. The headmaster's office was a vision of old-world luxury, glowing softly beneath a grand chandelier.
Nakiri Senzaemon sipped from his glass of apple wine. The tart, fragrant taste lingered on his tongue.
"A fine vintage," he murmured.
"Still not as good as the fruit wine at Zane's Tavern, though," he added after a pause.
Across from him, Joichiro smiled faintly. "So you've been there, too?"
The headmaster gave a knowing nod. "I take it you've seen Zane cook."
"I just came from there, actually," Joichiro replied.
For a long moment, silence fell between them.
Senzaemon stared into his wine, thoughts drifting to the past—two decades ago—when Joichiro Saiba had been the pride of Totsuki. The unbeatable genius with a 1:50 win ratio. A rising star destined to reshape the culinary world.
But then… the pressure crushed him.
"You were such a handful back then," the headmaster said at last, breaking the silence with a nostalgic sigh.
"Always giving me headaches."
Joichiro smiled bitterly.
"People change. Time breaks us all in different ways."
"I saw your white hair last time I visited the diner. That surprised even me," Senzaemon said quietly.
"And you, Headmaster—your Nakiri family isn't what it used to be, either."
Senzaemon nodded slowly.
"Which brings us to the question: Why did you come tonight?"
"You weren't exactly welcoming the last time I came calling."
"You wanted my son at Totsuki. Of course I wasn't welcoming."
The resentment in Joichiro's tone was subtle—but there.
Yes, Joichiro was a genius. But even geniuses are human. And the pressure that came with greatness was inescapable.
He had once dreamed of redefining cuisine—until that very dream crushed him. Unable to express his frustration, he turned to pranks. Everyone misunderstood him. Even the ones closest to him.
When The BLUE tournament approached, it all became too much. Joichiro cracked—and walked away from it all.
Dojima saw the signs early.
Azami blamed the system.
Shiomi never quite recovered from her traumatic "tastings."
It was Totsuki's elite system that played no small part in Joichiro's downfall. That's why he never wanted Soma to walk the same path.
"I looked for you all these years," Senzaemon said quietly.
"I believed only you could challenge the Divine Tongue's curse."
"But when Zane appeared, I knew… someone else might carry that torch."
He paused.
"As for Soma—I believe he has the potential to surpass us all, if he studies here for three years."
Joichiro exhaled slowly.
"At first, I didn't want him to come. I feared he'd become trapped… just like me."
"But eventually, I saw it differently. If he stayed at Yukihira forever, he'd never grow."
Joichiro leaned forward, his tone shifting.
"But I didn't just come here to see my son."
Senzaemon's gaze sharpened.
"There's something happening. Something dangerous. Something that could upend the culinary world."
The air seemed to turn cold.
"What is it?"
Joichiro's eyes narrowed.
"It's about the Midnight Chefs."