Chapter 591: Guiding Kojiro Shinomiya
The afternoon sun bathed the bustling commercial district in a warm, golden hue, but the moment Ren and Ichihara Yuko stepped out of their vehicle, the ambient noise seemed to hush. Heads turned, eyes lingering on the striking pair as they walked down the pavement. Yuko leaned in, a languid, elegant smile playing on her lips. "Do you feel lucky?"
"Lucky for what?" Ren asked, his voice calm and dryly amused. "Lucky that my attendant has a bizarre obsession with little butterfly-blue slippers?"
Yuko let out an exasperated sigh, her refined facade slipping just a fraction. "Are you never going to let that go? Just you wait. I am going to buy a brand-new pair right this second and place them squarely in front of you so you can admire them properly."
"You are a strange woman, Yuko. You actually enjoy having people stare at your footwear."
"No... I..." She faltered, a faint flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "You are going to drive me to an early grave if you do not stop teasing me!"
Ren chuckled, a low, effortless sound. "With our contract binding us, I have to ensure you live a very long, healthy life, do I not?"
Yuko froze for a heartbeat, her crimson eyes softening before she murmured, "You certainly know exactly what to say. I suppose I will refrain from rebelling against you today..."
In truth, Yuko knew her powers were far from fully restored. If she tried to rebel, she would only end up being lectured until she retreated into a sulking fit. There was also the terrifying memory of the one time Ren had ruthlessly cut off her alcohol supply. To Yuko, that day had felt like the end of the world. Knowing when to fold was a vital survival strategy.
They strolled down the polished street until they stopped before a distinctly elegant storefront. Ren glanced at the tasteful signage and nodded in quiet approval. "I did not expect him to actually open a branch here... Shino's."
Yuko tilted her head, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder. "A French restaurant? What exactly does that entail? Are we dining here?"
To Yuko, French cuisine conjured images of dim candlelight, expensive red wine, soft music, and hushed conversations in a private room over portions that barely filled the stomach. In her eyes, it was a dining experience built entirely on atmosphere rather than sustenance.
Ren smiled faintly. "His cooking should have matured quite a bit by now."
"Oh? Was the head chef of this establishment lacking before?"
"No, quite the opposite. His culinary foundation is incredibly solid. Let us go inside and see for ourselves."
Pushing open the heavy glass doors, they were greeted by the sophisticated ambiance of the dining hall. A waiter with short red hair hurried over, looking slightly flustered. "Sir, Madam, do you have a reservation with us today?"
"No," Ren replied evenly. "Are you fully booked?"
The waiter glanced around the pristine, empty tables, preparing to explain their strict booking policy. Just then, a tall man with vibrant pinkish-red hair and sharp glasses stepped out from the kitchen corridor. Kojiro Shinomiya had intended to intervene, ready to dismiss the walk-ins by stating that only their most exclusive private room remained and they took no unannounced guests for the afternoon service.
However, the moment Shinomiya's sharp gaze landed on the man standing in his lobby, he froze. The arrogant aura surrounding the famed chef evaporated, replaced by sheer disbelief. "Why are you here?!"
Ren offered a mild smile. "Mr. Shinomiya. It has been a while."
Shinomiya blinked, his strict posture relaxing into something resembling awe. "Are you... are you here to eat?"
"That is right. I heard from Miss Inui that you opened a new branch in Tokyo, so I decided to drop by and see it for myself. Do you have a table available?"
"Yes, of course. The premium private room is still open. If you two are dining, the room charge will be completely waived."
The surrounding waitstaff and prep chefs stood paralyzed in shock. Was this really their tyrannical, perfectionist Head Chef? The man known as the Magician of Legumes was actually bowing his head and acting with such deep respect? It was as if he had been replaced by an imposter.
Ren waved a hand, his tone casual. "I am not exactly short on funds. The private room will do fine. So, you really returned to Tokyo to expand your empire? Are you aiming for a star rating?"
Shinomiya nodded, his expression turning serious and driven. "Starting from scratch in a new environment forces faster growth. I originally planned to visit your restaurant the moment I settled in, but... I still have not been able to replicate that French vegetable terrine you made."
The kitchen staff eavesdropping from the doorway nearly dropped their clipboards. What on earth were they hearing? This calm, unassuming customer was a chef? And one whose skills were vastly superior to Kojiro Shinomiya's?
Ren considered the man's struggle for a moment before speaking. "I will ask you a simple question. The answer will tell you everything you need to know."
Shinomiya leaned in, his eyes wide with intense anticipation. "What question?"
"A French vegetable terrine. In its absolute essence, what would you say it is?"
The question hung in the quiet air of the restaurant. Shinomiya frowned, his brilliant mind racing through flavor profiles, the crisp texture of blanched asparagus, the plump sweetness of root vegetables, the gelatinous bind of the broth. He pondered the complex layers, yet he could not pinpoint the exact answer Ren was looking for.
Ren smiled, shaking his head slowly. "You have already spoken the answer in your mind."
"The answer is simply a vegetable terrine. Vegetable terrine. In essence, it is nothing more than vegetables. Because it is served as a cold dish, the absolute core of the flavor profile must rely on the raw integrity of the vegetables themselves. Agonizing over how to perfectly replicate the visual layering is a waste of your talent. You cannot claim that the carrots I source are inherently superior to the carrots you source. You possess the palate to taste that truth, do you not?"
Shinomiya nodded slowly, a flicker of realization warring with his confusion. "You mean..."
"If I am not mistaken, you have been hyper-focusing on the final aesthetic presentation and the surface aroma, completely neglecting the fundamental taste of the ingredients. Or rather, you have neglected the natural state of the vegetables. A vegetable terrine is just a vegetable terrine. It is not meant to be overly complicated."
Shinomiya adjusted his glasses, his brow furrowed. "But why does your terrine possess such an overwhelming, unified aroma?"
"Think about it," Ren prompted softly. "How do you think natural vegetable juices can be coaxed into releasing their deepest aroma?"
Shinomiya stared at the floor, his mind churning through heat application, resting times, and cellular breakdown. Suddenly, his eyes widened, shining with a fierce, inspired light. He let out a breathless laugh. "You really are a monster. Would you do me the honor of tasting the new dishes I have been refining recently?"
"Gladly," Ren replied. "And bring us a bottle of red wine. A standard vintage will do. If you keep trying to give me your most expensive stock for free, this little discount of yours will end up costing you a fortune. We both know our wines well enough. Now, is the private room this way?"
Ren gestured forward, leading a quietly amused Yuko down the hall.
Shinomiya watched his retreating back, letting out a long, heavy sigh. A wry smile touched his lips. "If that monster were a lecturer at Totsuki, I cannot even begin to imagine how terrifying the quality of the Elite Ten would become..."
A female sous-chef stepped up beside him, her voice hushed. "Chef Shinomiya, who exactly are that gentleman and lady? Do you know them well?"
"He is a true master," Shinomiya murmured, his eyes lingering on the empty hallway. "He is proficient in every cuisine on earth and can create miracles out of the most basic ingredients. If he ever desired a formal rating, he would effortlessly sweep the stars. He is, without a doubt, the most extraordinary chef I have ever known."
The staff exchanged wide-eyed, stunned glances. One of the line cooks swallowed hard, whispering with raw longing, "His restaurant must be an absolute paradise!"
"Indeed. His kitchen holds every ingredient imaginable, yet his prices are absurdly low. He runs his business purely out of personal interest, and he rarely takes in large crowds." Shinomiya suddenly clapped his hands together, the sharp sound echoing through the lobby. The arrogant, demanding Head Chef had returned. "Alright! We open for service in exactly thirty minutes! Everyone, move! Floors! Tables! Centerpieces! Prep stations! Get moving!"
Inside the secluded private room, Ren glanced around the pristine space, taking in the elegant drapery and the immaculate table setting. He nodded in satisfaction. "A classic, refined French aesthetic. Very clean. It seems he is genuinely committed to securing that star rating."
Yuko draped herself gracefully over her plush chair, resting her chin on her hand with a lazy, feline smile. "I seem to recall that acquiring a star rating is not exactly a simple matter..."
"You are right. The evaluations are conducted by the WGO," Ren noted, pulling out his own chair. "Which means Courage and the other inspectors will be the ones deciding his fate."
"Well," Yuko purred, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "That is truly remarkable."
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