Confit—a traditional cooking method from southwestern France—involves slow-cooking and preserving meat in its own fat. Among its variations, duck leg confit is a classic dish that graces both humble village taverns and the opulent tables of the Élysée Palace.
Contrary to the stereotype that foreigners avoid offal, the French cuisine tells a different story. From foie gras to duck hearts and even duck rumps, nearly every part of the duck is used—everything except the feathers.
Sonoka had prepared well in advance, serving a gleaming plate of duck leg confit alongside golden potatoes and cheese. Under the lamplight, the dish shimmered with warmth and richness. The air was thick with the intoxicating aroma of carefully steamed spices.
Crisp.
The duck skin, glistening and crackling with rendered fat, was visibly crispy. Mana, calm as ever, pierced the dish gently with her fork. The meat beneath was astonishingly tender, falling apart with ease. A surge of fragrant steam escaped, enveloping her senses.
Sonoka's mastery of French cuisine was evident—a legacy of her days at Totsuki Academy. Her duck confit was no amateur effort.
"Mana-sama!"
Anne, standing nearby, sounded flustered and nervous.
As both she and Sonoka watched anxiously, Mana finally cut a piece of duck and raised it to her mouth. The first bite offered a delightful contrast: crackling skin and succulent meat, layered with complex spice notes that bloomed on the palate. The potatoes were crisp on the outside, fluffy inside, while the tomatoes added refreshing acidity—like a hearty feast straight from a countryside farm.
In making confit, two key elements determine success:
The right mix of curing salts and spices.
Slow, controlled cooking over low heat.
Judging by taste and texture, Sonoka had nailed both.
However…
Mana suddenly stopped chewing. Her brow furrowed. She spat out the meat, her face paling instantly.
A wave of discomfort surged from her tongue to her throat, through her esophagus, and into her stomach. Moments later, she vomited.
"Mana-sama!"
"Are you alright? Do you need an IV drip?" Anne rushed to her side, gently patting her back.
"No need… I'm just a little nauseous. Let me rest for a bit."
Mana's voice was weak, barely audible.
Sonoka stood frozen, her heart sinking as her dish was rejected in such dramatic fashion. A mix of confusion and helplessness flooded her.
After some time, Mana's complexion recovered. She glanced at Sonoka thoughtfully before finally speaking.
"The soul of duck confit lies in its marinade. Knowing how each spice interacts with duck meat is critical."
She paused, eyes narrowing. "You used thyme, rosemary, black pepper, bay leaf… and a dozen others."
"Fifteen, to be exact," Sonoka answered, startled.
Mana continued, "And have you ever tried anything different?"
"No… This blend of fifteen spices brings out the duck's best flavor."
"I've experimented with all kinds—cardamom, cloves, star anise, lemongrass, cinnamon, galangal… But the one that surprised me most was dried mandarin peel. Especially the kind from Xinhui. Its mild sweetness and refreshing citrus aroma cut through the fattiness, enhancing the entire dish. It's an ideal pairing for duck's rich flavor."
"Dried mandarin peel?" Sonoka muttered, deep in thought.
"And about your fat choice—I didn't expect you to use olive oil."
"Lard brings a richer mouthfeel. Duck fat, though more authentic, yields a purer but drier taste. Still, it best captures the essence of traditional confit."
Then, her voice dropped coldly. "If this is all you've achieved since graduating from Totsuki, then I'm afraid you've stopped growing."
Sonoka laughed awkwardly. "Well… I've been busy running Shunkatei. There's been little time to experiment."
Mana's gaze turned sharp.
"Let me remind you of something: no matter how much you've seen or learned, it's only the tip of the iceberg."
"I've traveled the world. There's always more to discover, new techniques to master. One person's energy is limited. What matters is maintaining a humble heart—and a relentless desire to learn."
"The only way to grow as a chef is to take every task seriously, like a true craftsman. Passion and diligence are what lay the foundation."
Sonoka stood silent, her eyes clouded with emotion.
Mana's tone was stern, almost scolding—but her words struck deep. Since opening Shunkatei, Sonoka had been too caught up in operations. Her culinary creativity had dulled. Her passion, once blazing, had faded.
"If you keep this up, forget earning a second star. Shunkatei may be downgraded by the WGO."
"What?" Sonoka paled. "Downgraded?"
She had been puzzled by her restaurant's stagnant rating, but the idea of a demotion struck like lightning.
For a restaurant, losing a WGO star was nearly a death sentence—often the beginning of the end.
"Feeling hopeless?" Mana's voice softened slightly. "This year's evaluations are over. Any downgrade will happen next year—if nothing changes."
"I… I still have a chance?" Sonoka's voice trembled.
"Yes. Someone can help you through this. And you already know who he is."
Mana turned, her expression unreadable.
That night, the Polar Star Dormitory was unusually quiet.
A cool evening breeze drifted through the open windows of the first-floor common room, lifting the pale pink curtains as it brushed across Soma Yukihira's face.
"Soma, what are you thinking about?"
Behind him, Satoshi patted his shoulder.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Soma replied, "Just wondering… what kind of beef should I use to improve my donburi?"
"Still dwelling on that battle?" Satoshi chuckled. "I watched the whole thing. It wasn't the beef trimmings that cost you."
He continued, "Erina's no pushover. She understands how to unlock the true flavor of A5-grade beef—by using white wine and sugar to caramelize it, and mirin to round it out. It's impressive."
"Do you have any advice, Senpai?" Soma asked.
"Of course. It's just a matter of taking it further—"
Before Satoshi could finish, members of the Totsuki News & Broadcasting Club began handing out flyers across campus, including at Polar Star Dormitory.
Satoshi glanced at one. "It's finally here."
"Soma, go call everyone downstairs."
"Got it."
Sensing the seriousness in Satoshi's voice, Soma quickly ran to gather the others.
Soon, all the dorm residents assembled in the common room.
Satoshi placed the flyer on the table. "Everyone, the Residential Training Camp is finally happening."
"If everything goes as scheduled, it'll be held next week at Totsuki Resort."
"What?"
Yuuki was stunned.
Megumi trembled beside her, panic written all over her face. She'd barely scraped by during the entrance exam—and now, an even more grueling challenge loomed.
For the lowest-ranked student in Totsuki, the Residential Training Camp was nothing short of a nightmare.
"It's like survival training, right?" Soma asked, confused.
"Something like that," Satoshi nodded. "But don't be fooled—it's nothing like a school field trip."
"In my year, the standards were brutal. Half the students were expelled."
Megumi's face turned white. Her legs gave way as she collapsed into Yuuki's arms, mumbling weakly.
"I won't make it… I'm definitely getting expelled… I've failed everyone—my family, my mentor…"
"Megumi!"
Yuuki caught her, patting her cheeks. "You've got to stay with me!"
"It's not hopeless," Satoshi said gently. "After all, half of the students survive."
"If we all work hard and do our best in each task, I believe every one of us can make it through and return here together."
He smiled warmly. "Let's give it our all. We still have a week. Improve your skills while you can."
"I don't want to see anyone from Polar Star disappear after this."