Harano Katsuya was learning the true meaning of 'no zuo no die.'
He was in the hotel's private kitchen, fully focused on preparing for the finals in two days, when he received a call from the lobby manager. A guest from the Auspicious Fish Shop was trying to force his way into the kitchen, claiming the ice storage unit his family had rented had been attacked.
The reputation of the Harano family in the culinary world was at stake. Harano Katsuya nearly threw his kitchen knife in frustration.
He quickly instructed the lobby manager to mobilize all waiters and security to investigate any suspicious individuals, then rushed to the lobby without even changing out of his chef's uniform.
To mask his own panic and show how seriously he was taking the incident, he used the Level 4 Chinese he had painstakingly studied to travel to the holy land of cooking, the Hua nation, and asked cordially, "Hello, could you please explain the process in detail?"
Wang Zhongji was overjoyed and blurted out in a dialect so thick it would make ghosts weep: "&*...￥@!@##"
Harano Katsuya: ???
He had no idea that trying to get by in the Hua nation with just a Level 4 Chinese certificate was a fool's dream.
In the Hua nation, understanding Mandarin was merely Bronze tier; the true King tier was called 'dialect.'
And right now, he was getting his head bashed in by a King.
The look of calm confidence on Harano Katsuya's face gradually vanished, replaced by an existential crisis.
This wasn't just a case of understanding every word but not the sentence; he couldn't even make out a single word.
Did he get a fake certificate?
"Sir, sir, calm down! Calm down! Speak slowly," Harano Katsuya said, no longer daring to put on airs as he hastily switched back to Japanese.
But unexpectedly, as soon as he switched to Japanese, Wang Zhongji, in his agitation, unleashed a torrent of Japanese mixed with his dialect.
This fierce, tiger-like maneuver completely stunned Harano Katsuya. Now he couldn't even understand the Japanese.
Fortunately, at that moment, his savior, Mo Bai, made a grand entrance. "Zhongji, what happened?"
"Brother Mo, someone's trying to mess with us."
"A hotel employee came to check our rented ice storage unit. Xiaoji felt something was off and asked him to show his employee ID, but the guy just knocked Xiaoji out. Luckily, I was coming over to take my shift, and when the 'employee' saw me, he turned and ran."
"I chased him all the way to the kitchen, but I was stopped."
"Is Xiaoji okay?" Mo Bai asked quickly.
"Dad just called. Said it's a minor concussion."
"As long as he's okay." Mo Bai let out a sigh of relief and clenched his fists.
Damn it, one troublemaker after another. Did they really think he was a pushover made of clay?
Even a clay figure has a bit of a temper!
"Where is your person in charge? I need an explanation right now," Mo Bai said, staring daggers at the lobby manager. "Otherwise, I'll immediately report this whole affair to the IGO and the Chiba Shrine."
The surrounding people felt a chill run down their spines and didn't dare meet Mo Bai's gaze. No one expected a young man to possess such terrifying authority when angered.
"My apologies, Contestant Mo Bai. I am the person in charge of this hotel," Harano Katsuya said weakly, steeling himself.
"Aren't you the heir to Haranoya?" Mo Bai was a bit dumbfounded, looking at Harano Katsuya who had popped out from the side.
"The Harano Hotel is also part of the Haranoya enterprise." Harano Katsuya gave a dry laugh before his expression turned serious, and he bowed deeply. "I will definitely give you, Contestant Mo Bai, a satisfactory explanation for this matter. I just ask that you refrain from alerting the event organizers for now."
"..." Mo Bai's brow furrowed. If Harano Katsuya was using his own hotel's staff to cause trouble, it would be pretty moronic. "Fine, I'll trust you."
"Thank you for your trust."
Accompanied by Harano Katsuya, Mo Bai waited for the results of the investigation.
As time ticked by, the feeling of unease in Mo Bai's heart grew, as if something was about to happen.
Would someone really risk being blacklisted by the IGO and the Chiba Shrine just to ruin a yellowtail? Then he thought about the incident in the afternoon, which he had assumed was just some sore losers from Group B hiring people to cause trouble.
He felt like someone was playing a grand game of chess.
"Hey, Old Harano, is your fish storage okay?" Mo Bai asked suddenly.
"Old Harano? Are you talking to me?" Harano Katsuya looked around, and seeing no one else, pointed at himself in surprise.
"Well, who else would I be talking to?"
"Err..." Harano Katsuya was taken aback by Mo Bai's disdainful little expression. "My private fish storage is on the top floor, independently monitored by professional bodyguards. Nothing will happen."
"What about the power supply?"
"All the ice storage units in the Harano Hotel have independent generators that can last for eight hours."
"And after eight hours?"
"Unless there's a problem with the underground cables, power outages rarely last longer than eight hours. Besides, we're in the middle of a competition..."
Before Harano Katsuya could finish his sentence, the magnificent Harano Hotel, along with several surrounding residential blocks, was plunged into darkness.
Mo Bai and Harano Katsuya stared at each other, both simultaneously having the urge to slap themselves across the face.
"Start the backup power first, then go investigate!" Harano Katsuya yelped like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
After a series of checks on the high-voltage distribution cabinets, transformers, and high-voltage incoming cables yielded no results, Harano Katsuya called the power company to report the failure.
Tonight was destined to be a sleepless one.
===
On the top floor of the Yoshino Grand Hotel, Yoshino Takashi gazed at the patch of darkness amidst the distant neon lights, a smirk spreading across his lips.
He knew that Harano Katsuya and all the other chefs staying at the Harano Hotel were finished.
It was true that the independent power supply could last for eight hours, but what about after that?
If the ice storage units weren't specifically designed for fish, the fish might even absorb the smells of other ingredients, degrading their quality.
Such professional-grade ice storage units were a rarity in Akihabara, aside from the hotels established by their two fish shops. Even if they used refrigerated trucks to move the fish to other areas, it would be hard to hide the flaw that the trucks could only cool down to minus forty degrees Celsius during transport.
Minus fifty degrees Celsius was the baseline for low-temperature preservation.
A difference of three degrees had made Mo Bai wait for two hours and thirty-five minutes. This was a full ten-degree difference; the aging period would be drastically accelerated.
Once the peak aging period passed, the flavor would plummet.
"Master, here is the promised five hundred million yen." Even for an expense of this magnitude, a flicker of pain crossed Yoshino Takashi's face.
Accepting the bank card was a middle-aged Onmyoji dressed in a black kariginu. A mosquito-sized shikigami flew in from the window and returned to his side.
"You can call me again if you need anything in the future." The middle-aged Onmyoji wasn't worried that Yoshino Takashi would default on the payment or shortchange him. In his eyes, if the man had the guts, he had a thousand ways to kill an ordinary person.
"Of course, of course. Please, take care, Lord Onmyoji."
Seeing Yoshino Takashi's respectful attitude, the middle-aged Onmyoji's expression grew even more satisfied.
"Hah, my rigid master and my foolish senior apprentice. They have the chance to make a fortune but refuse to take it." On his way back, the middle-aged Onmyoji became increasingly smug. "Interfering in a chefs' competition will incur heavenly retribution? Aren't I perfectly fine right now, holding the money?"
Slowly, he sensed that something was wrong.
The short street seemed to stretch on forever, and the once brightly lit surroundings had become eerily quiet.
At the end of the street, a woman in white stood with her back to him, facing the bright moon, holding a tachi in her fair hand.
"Who are you!?"
An ethereal, dreamlike flash of the blade sliced through the air, leaving behind the whistling of the sword and the crisp sound of the hilt hitting the scabbard. Then, all was quiet again.
"Non-chef parties are forbidden from interfering in competitions and shokugeki. It's an iron rule, you know~" Ryougi Shiki's gaze shifted to the other end of the street, her tone part lament, part warning. The old man in the Zhongshan suit clasped his fist and bowed his head as if receiving a lesson.
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