Nighttime.
The stars shimmered in the clear sky, and a gentle breeze drifted through the quiet streets.
As Zane lit the warm glow of the tavern's sign, the doors opened for another night of culinary comfort.
Inside, the soft crackle of charcoal filled the air.
Tonight's feature: Unadon—grilled eel over rice.
Zane selected a live, fresh eel. After skillfully preparing it, he skewered it and grilled it over charcoal until the skin tightened slightly. With perfect timing, he brushed it with his signature sauce—thick, glossy, and aromatic—before placing it atop a steaming bowl of white rice.
The glistening golden eel shimmered on the table beneath the warm light.
The rich scent of caramelized eel fat, sweet soy sauce, and smoke lingered like a whisper of nostalgia.
Megumi's eyes lit up as she gently divided the bowl into three distinct portions:
The first: the classic Unadon, simple and traditional.
The second: topped with seaweed, wasabi, green onions, white sesame, and a hint of Japanese pepper—a regional twist.
The third: made into ochazuke—a soup-drenched rice dish using eel offal broth and served with pickles.
This was Nagoya's renowned "Three Ways of Eel."
"Amazing…" Megumi murmured after her first bite.
"The eel is so tender. But there's just the right amount of chew when you bite in… it's full of fat and flavor, but not the slightest trace of fishiness."
She closed her eyes, savoring every nuance.
"When grilled a bit longer, the skin crisps up perfectly—so fragrant! And the rice… it's incredible too. Soft and chewy, yet distinct. The sauce soaks into it without making it soggy. It elevates the eel, not masks it!"
It was a dish that sang of home.
Having grown up in a fishing port town, Megumi had always loved eel dishes. But this one—this was on another level.
"Chef… Did you know?"
She looked up, her voice filled with soft wonder.
"When I was in middle school, I joined the Local Cuisine Research Association."
"Our leader's specialty was Nagoya-style Unadon. But compared to yours, I think… yours tastes even more like home."
Zane smiled faintly at the praise.
He didn't speak, but his eyes reflected a quiet understanding.
Poor grades—was it always about intelligence?
Not in his eyes.
Some were just lazy. Others tried, but couldn't keep up—perhaps pretending to work harder than they really did.
But there were also people like Megumi—people who collapsed at the final step, not because of lack of talent, but because of pressure.
In the original timeline, Megumi had once outshone even Erina.
During the residential training camp, her warm and health-conscious cooking had earned praise from elite chefs like Gin Dōjima and Hinako Inui.
Even the infamously strict Kojiro Shinomiya was awakened by her gentle culinary touch, realizing his own impatience and harsh methods had dulled his progress.
Of course, someone like Erina Nakiri—born with divine talent and trained under immense pressure—was still Totsuki's ace.
But Megumi's warmth, her desire to cook with heart for the sake of others, was a light all its own.
Zane had always admired that side of her.
The sauce was like a silk ribbon—tying together the rich eel and the modest rice in perfect harmony.
Where most mass-produced sauces were overly sweet, salty, or alcoholic—drowning out the main ingredients—Zane's secret blend enhanced the natural sweetness of the eel and highlighted the aroma of freshly steamed rice.
This was true craftsmanship.
And for Megumi…
This bowl was more than just food.
It was a memory—a reminder of home, of her mother's ryokan, of warm kitchens and peaceful mornings.
And maybe even a reminder of the simpler life she once left behind.
She devoured the dish.
All three variations, gone in minutes.
Food had that kind of power.
One more delicious dish, one more reason to keep going.
It reminded her of what made life worth savoring.
Years had passed since she'd been home.
Her mother's Unadon only existed in fragments of memory now.
And her time at Totsuki… hadn't been smooth.
She sometimes wondered if she made the wrong choice enrolling.
If she'd stayed in her hometown, she'd be sleeping in, working at the ryokan, eating breakfast leisurely—without pressure, without rankings, without fear of failure.
But regrets were meaningless.
She made her choice—and she had to see it through.
"Phew…"
Megumi leaned back with a contented sigh, patting her full stomach.
"I haven't had food that tasted like home in such a long time."
She licked her lips, then smiled, eyes dreamy with satisfaction.
"Chef, your Unadon… even the plain rice is delicious! The texture, the grain—it's just right. After soaking up the sauce, it doesn't go mushy. It still has that pleasant chew."
"The quality of rice is amazing. And it balances perfectly with the eel. Even if I just had the rice alone, I'd be satisfied."
Zane didn't say a word.
Instead, he quietly brewed a cup of floral tea and placed it in front of her.
Only then did he ask softly, "Are you alone tonight? Where are your dorm mates—Yuuki, Ryoko, and Satoshi?"
Megumi hesitated.
Her voice trembled slightly.
"Chef… I came alone tonight."
She looked down at the table.
"With the new school year about to start, I don't even know if I'll pass the first assessment."
"So I thought… before that, I wanted to eat my favorite food here one last time. Then… say goodbye."
Her tone was quiet, almost apologetic.
As if she didn't want to worry anyone—but couldn't quite hide the fear in her heart.