A week passed quietly.
On the second day after Sonoka became Zane's assistant chef, he completed the task of increasing the tavern's customer flow to 500 people within 48 hours. The system issued rewards accordingly.
During this time, the tavern experienced a variety of emotions and events, but overall, things had calmed down noticeably compared to before.
In the early morning, facing east, the sky was still veiled in a hazy dawn, scattered with soft orange and pink clouds.
At Polar Star Dormitory, everyone was busy packing their luggage, preparing to head to the plaza where the bus would pick them up.
"Megumi, hurry up!"
"I heard the bus leaves at 7 sharp. We're almost out of time!"
Ryoko waited anxiously in the first-floor lobby.
"Okay, coming!"
Megumi's voice echoed from upstairs in Room 302, followed by hurried footsteps.
Soon, she appeared, flustered, dragging her suitcase. "Sorry! I had a lot to prepare and kept everyone waiting…"
"It's okay—let's just go!" Ryoko shook her head, brushing it off, and turned to lead the way.
"Senpai, please look after Polar Star Dorm while we're gone," Yuki said, pausing at the door with a reluctant expression.
"Don't worry," replied Isami Aldini. "With me here, Polar Star will be in good hands."
He watched them go, eyes turning wistful as memories of his own dormitory training surfaced.
He knew better than anyone: dorm training was brutal.
All he could do now was pray they made it through.
Shortly after the girls left, a middle-aged man with a travel bag arrived at the dorm's entrance. He stood before the aging building, taking in its quiet, weathered charm.
It's been over 20 years, hasn't it?
Everything had changed. Maybe the dorm never fully recovered after he dropped out…
He hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and pressed the doorbell.
"Who's there? Megumi?" Isami opened the door, confused. "Did you forget something—?"
But instead of the clumsy first-year, a disheveled, rugged-looking man stood in front of him.
His hair was messy, his beard wild like untamed grass, and his clothes had clearly seen better days. Yet, he had a strong build and a resolute presence—like someone who'd weathered countless storms.
Even just standing there, he gave off an intimidating pressure.
"Who… are you?" Isami asked, recovering.
"I used to live here. I'm looking for Fumio."
As the man examined Isami, he also tried to recall who the boy was. Eventually, he smiled faintly and added politely, "You must be Isami Aldini."
"Our dorm matron?" Isami blinked, then quickly called for her. "Fumio-san, someone's here to see you!"
"Who would come at this hour?" muttered Fumio Daimido as she walked to the door.
"He said he used to live in Polar Star Dorm."
As she stepped outside, she froze, her gaze locking onto the man's familiar face.
"Saiba? Is that really you, Joichiro Saiba?"
Her voice trembled with disbelief.
Dormitory training was a major event organized by Totsuki Academy.
Every year, all first-year high school students gathered at the plaza and boarded buses bound for the Totsuki Resort—where they would undergo six days and five nights of grueling training.
Any student who failed the evaluators' daily assessments would be sent back on a return bus—and expelled.
At exactly 7:00 AM, dozens of buses departed from Totsuki Academy, forming a long convoy winding along mountain roads, headed toward the resort.
Nestled on the mountainside, the Totsuki Resort was surrounded by dense forests, its European-style architecture standing out against the natural backdrop.
The crown jewel was the Totsuki Palace, a luxurious five-star hotel.
After getting off the bus, Yuki stretched and exclaimed, "Wow! This place is incredible!"
"Yeah," Ryoko replied, "according to the brochure, that's the Totsuki Palace. A single night costs 80,000 yen."
"Eighty thousand?!" Yuki gasped. "A month would cost over two million yen!"
"Well, during training, we'll be staying here. As long as we pass our evaluations each day, we get to stay for free."
"Free? You mean we get to sleep in an 80,000-yen-per-night room just by passing?"
Yuki was stunned—and thrilled.
Maybe dorm training wasn't going to be so bad after all!
Totsuki's elite education system operated on ruthless competition, rewarding excellence and eliminating weakness. But too much reward could lead to entitlement. The system walked a fine line.
After all, even Erina Nakiri, the Elite Ten's Tenth Seat, frequently disbanded research societies via food battles under the excuse of "financial issues."
Inside the Totsuki Palace lobby, Yuki looked around in awe.
The sparkling crystal chandeliers, elegant paintings, and plush sofas screamed opulence.
Then came a voice over the intercom:
[Ding-dong! All new students, please place your luggage in your assigned rooms.]
[Ding-dong! This is a reminder for all new students…]
With over 1,000 students—1,023 to be exact—crowding the lobby, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Megumi stood frozen in the middle of the crowd, overwhelmed. Her hands were sweating, her face pale.
In a desperate attempt to calm herself, she traced the character for "person" in her palm and pretended to swallow it—an old superstition to ease nerves.
Suddenly, a powerful presence entered the room.
Gin Dojima—head chef of the Totsuki Resort—stepped onto the stage, lights converging on him like a spotlight.
"Is that really… Gin Dojima?" someone whispered.
"The legendary graduate with the highest score in Totsuki's history?!"
Excited murmurs spread like wildfire.
"I can't believe I'm seeing him in person!"
Dojima grabbed the mic, silencing the crowd.
"Welcome, new students," he said. "I'm Gin Dojima, graduate of the 69th class."
"This is the Totsuki Resort. Normally it's open to the public, but for the next six days, it's closed for training. All resources are dedicated to your success—or your failure."
"This could be your beginning… or your end. I hope you'll give it your all. Good luck."
He stepped aside.
"Instructors—introduce yourselves!"
Everyone buzzed with excitement as the evaluators were introduced:
Kojiro Shinomiya.
Fuyumi Mizuhara.
Hinako Inui.
Soma Kamaji.
Donato Gotoda.
"They're all famous chefs!" someone cried. "They were in culinary magazines!"
"Wait, if they're the judges, we're in serious trouble."
Then Shinomiya took the mic, his sharp gaze sweeping the crowd.
"You. The one with brown hair and no glasses."
A confused student froze.
"I declare you unqualified. You're expelled. Return to the Academy."
"What?! Why?" the student cried. "The training hasn't even started!"
"You used hair gel," Shinomiya said coldly. "One of the cardinal sins in our field. Strong scents like perfume or gel can interfere with a chef's sense of smell—and that leads to failure."
The student's face went pale.
And just like that, the training had begun.