Chapter Twenty-six: The Autumn Selection Begins

Early the next morning, the students of Polaris Dormitory entered the main event hall together, then split into two groups, heading to venues A and B respectively.

Although the competition itself would not begin until eleven o’clock, there was a great deal of ingredient and equipment preparation required beforehand. Unlike a one-on-one shokugeki, there was no one else to help fetch what you needed, so by nine o’clock, everyone was already bustling about.

By ten thirty, the majority of the audience had already taken their seats. All the first-years, most of the second-years, lecturers from various departments, and even several members of the Elite Ten were present as spectators.

At precisely eleven, the announcer’s voice echoed throughout the hall. Reina Kawashima, famed as the number one side character of shokugeki, had gone to Group B; thus, Group A was greeted by a rare new face as emcee—

“Good morning, everyone! I am Yua Sasaki, today’s announcer for the Group A preliminaries! Are all the contestants ready? The three-hour preliminary round is about to begin! Within these three hours, once contestants complete their dishes, they may present them to the judges. Each of the five judges holds the power to award up to twenty points, for a total score of one hundred! The top four contestants will advance to the finals!”

Compared to the calculating sweetness of Reina Kawashima, Yua’s demeanor was free of any forced cutesiness. Instead, she seemed a bit timid, radiating the charm of a girl-next-door.

Though there were five judges, the central seat among Group A’s judges remained empty even as the competition was announced. It was not until half an hour later that it was finally filled.

The newcomer was a young woman in a flowing white evening dress, her figure graceful, a beauty mark accentuating the corner beneath her right eye. According to certain schools of physiognomy, those with such a mark are destined to suffer for love and weep easily throughout their lives—think of the black cat, Ritsuko, or perhaps a certain unlucky soul with two tricks up her sleeve—but this was, after all, a culinary story. Such a detail served as mere ornamentation.

Despite her late arrival, her presence was assertive; she parried Erina’s “reminder” with a sharp retort, leaving Erina to grumble quietly.

After all, Natsume Chihyo, the woman in question, was the current leader of HOB Foods, a titan dominating the two hundred billion yen annual curry market. Along with her younger sister, Orie Chihyo, she was known as a “Curry Queen.”

With Natsume seated in Group A, it was safe to assume Orie presided over Group B.

Still, for the sake of Totsuki’s reputation, Natsume Chihyo picked up the microphone and addressed the hall: “Listen closely. The curry industry in this country has expanded continuously since World War II. Today, curry has become a true national dish! Yet, this very situation… leaves me dreadfully bored.

“As both a businesswoman and a lover of curry, I have always sought ideas that could create a future for Japanese curry—Come, show me! Present a curry dish that can make my heart race and my soul tremble…”

“That… that’s too high a bar…”

“She’s the one who knows all there is to know about curry, past and present, from every corner of the world…”

“She expects us to serve something that will satisfy her?!”

A wave of commotion rippled through the hall, but the playful gleam in Natsume’s eyes only grew sharper. With just a few words, she had already exposed the mediocrities unworthy of attention. Her gaze, however, now turned to those undaunted, who remained focused on their dishes—true talents.

In the pages of a manga, dishes seem to appear in an instant, but in reality, every plate requires at least an hour of meticulous preparation.

This was no casual family restaurant; it was a true competition.

According to the rules, aside from ingredients that require several days of aging, any component with a unique style or creative twist had to be prepared on site. Essential broths for high-level cooking, for example, could only be made fresh. And no matter the cuisine—Chinese, French, Japanese, Russian—no stock worth serving could be completed in less than an hour.

Of course, if one settled for a commercial chicken or bonito broth, it could be used directly, but such shortcuts would never satisfy these discerning judges.

With curry as the theme, the moment the contest began, a variety of pungent and fiery aromas erupted from every station. Though the task was “curry,” it was, in truth, all about the mastery of spices. Mapo tofu, Sichuan boiled fish, or even a medicinal dish like Four Herbs Soup could all fit within this challenge. Feng Xue even considered that if he presented a sashimi dish with an eight-flavor relish, it might pass muster.

But what he sought was advancement to the next round. In this regard, sashimi—or any raw fish dish—was at a disadvantage, as it merely showcased the ingredient’s innate flavor. Unless Feng Xue could master a technique as dramatic as the Arhat Crystal Cut, even using fugu would rarely stand out here.

Though the contest lasted three full hours, the real battle seemed to begin with the very first whiff of spice to drift through the air.

About an hour and ten minutes in—just over a third of the time gone—the first contestant finished their dish.

In large-scale competitions like this, the “last to serve wins” formula did not hold true (despite what the storylines might suggest).

On the contrary, those who presented early held a certain advantage. The judges' appetites were limited, and curry, with its bold and intense flavor, quickly overwhelmed the palate. Even if they took only a bite of each, thirty different curries would be enough to leave the judges’ taste buds numb.

Unlike the original manga, where serving last could still earn a clean plate, such a scenario was unthinkable here. In both Groups A and B, at least seven or eight contestants would deliver curries that could move the judges. Even if the other twenty or so dishes were ignored, each judge would still have to taste at least eight curries.

Most of the judges were either older or women; eating that much would be a challenge for anyone. The dishes in the manga were so substantial that, in reality, a bowl would be enough to leave anyone from the south—who tend to eat less—completely full.

Of course, this world, with its half-fantasy logic, had its own solutions. In this land of culinary prowess, a product called “digestive medicine” had been developed—just one pill could quickly relieve fullness, but the numbing of the palate could not be so easily undone. (For example, if you ate mapo tofu first, and then followed it with Hainanese chicken rice, the latter would taste bland, no matter how superior its quality; such is the mechanism of taste. Spicy and numbing dishes thus held a decisive edge in competitions.)

Still, the early advantage only counted if the dish itself was far above average. The contestant at hand, however, was nothing special.

As expected, four of the five judges gave single-digit scores, while Natsume Chihyo, the Curry Queen herself, awarded a resounding zero.

By this point, a third of the competition had passed. Most contestants, even if they had not finished their dishes, were already revealing their claws. Waves of aroma, subtle or bold, light or heavy, flooded the hall, making the audience’s mouths water. Someone with an extraordinary sense of smell, like Ryo Hayama, could easily use these scents to pick out the true contenders—the ones who now demonstrated the greatest mastery over spices: Ikumi Mito, Ryoko Sakaki, Zenji Marui, Shun Ibusaki, Subaru Mimasaka…

There were others whose dishes could not yet be judged—Soma Yukihira’s, for instance, had released no discernible aroma, and Ryo Kurokiba’s remained at the “contender” level, not yet at its peak.

“Let the battle begin!” In this atmosphere, Feng Xue’s inner food demon seemed unusually excited, a strange aura radiating from him. If he hadn’t suppressed it, his hair might have writhed like the tentacles of some eldritch creature.

Even so, several students with keen perceptions sensed the shift in the air, their gazes snapping toward Feng Xue.

“No aroma? Is he deliberately locking in the scent, or has he simply not reached the spice-handling stage yet?” With his divine sense of smell, Ryo Hayama could gauge the spice level in every dish in the room. In his olfactory world, perhaps only five or six contestants could truly match him—and even then, it would be a close fight.

But for the first time, his confidence wavered as he observed Feng Xue’s calm, unhurried actions. He watched as Feng Xue occasionally added some purple powder—presumably a spice—to his pot, but even Ryo could not identify what it was.

Ryo twitched his nose, temporarily setting aside his doubts. “A strange spice. But if you think you can surpass me, you’re still far from it!”

The moment a handful of leaf-shaped spices hit the pot, a rich yet not overpowering aroma burst forth, electrifying everyone in the hall. The previously fragmented scene was instantly dominated by a single, dazzling presence.

On the judges’ panel, Natsume Chihyo, who had hitherto dismissed every dish with disdain, could not help but let out a soft sigh.

She then awkwardly remarked, “It seems… it seems there are some dishes worth looking forward to after all…” As she spoke, she fixed Ryo Hayama with a steely gaze.

But Ryo’s dish was divided into two components, with the main course—a baked naan—still unfinished. So, even after arousing the judges’ appetites, he did not immediately present his work.

As a result, the next few contestants suffered even more; not only did Natsume award them zeroes, but the other judges’ scores were lower as well.

Clearly, the judges were now consumed by anticipation for Ryo’s dish. Unless another dish of comparable quality appeared, scores for the rest would be suppressed by expectation. For a moment, the other students hesitated, uncertain whether to present their dishes.

In this awkward lull, one person’s actions suddenly broke the silence. As more and more spectators noticed him, cries of excitement erupted throughout the hall—

“Ah!”