Chapter 25: Concede The Match
…So sleepy.
The Autumn Elections main tournament semifinals. The moment I finished plating my dish, the only thing in my head wasn't tension or fear. It was overwhelming drowsiness.
There wasn't any grand reason behind it. It was pure sleep deprivation. Because my rational brain had taken a vacation and I'd spent the night pounding Berta and Sheila nonstop, I'd returned to the academy without sleeping a wink. I figured that if I tried to nap I'd oversleep, so I decided to face the semifinal completely sleepless.
The only reason I could pull off something this reckless was the cheat ability I'd received when I reincarnated. No matter how exhausted I was or how much my thinking had slowed down, it didn't matter.
The second I picked up a knife, grabbed an ingredient, or even thought about cooking, my body moved on its own. The so-called "I could do it with my eyes closed" phenomenon. Honestly, I was a little scared I really could cook with my eyes closed.
The theme for the match was "Western-style main course."
Another broad theme with tons of possible answers, but that wasn't the real issue. The real issue was exactly what dish Hayama would bring and at what level.
The plate he served before me was something like "Duck à la Apicius." I didn't care about the name, but the aroma and flavor were both top-class. Exactly the level I had expected.
"…Well, I did everything I could. The rest is up to luck."
The five judges ate my dish in silence.
Seated from the left were the three instructors who had also served as chaperones during the training camp: Inui Hinako, Mizuhara Fuyumi, and Dojima Gin. The remaining two were new faces.
Tsukazaki Taki, from a younger generation than those three, and—the real prize this time—Kikuchi Sonoka.
The girl with the soft peach-colored hair was a graduate of the 89th generation, three years ahead of us 92nd generation students. In other words, a brand-new member of society who had only graduated last year. Just being young was attractive enough, but Kikuchi Sonoka's greatest charm was her absurdly massive breasts. I couldn't be sure with her clothes on, but they were easily an H-cup—maybe even bigger. In sheer size alone, she was without question the bustiest woman I had ever slept with.
Honestly, breasts that oversized weren't usually my type. Once they lost their shape they just looked bad and turned into weird, lumpy tits.
But Kikuchi Sonoka was different. Hers were perfectly shaped, beautiful, and enormous all at once—a living embodiment of male desire. Despite her very limited screen time in the original story, she was the only character who had burned herself so clearly into my memory.
That was exactly why I had decided to claim her. The reason I hadn't touched her before the main story started like I had with Berta and Sheila was that she was still enrolled at Totsuki Academy at the time. Reaching out to a student from outside the school carried too much risk.
I had waited this long. There was no way I was letting her slip away. No matter how troublesome the method, if it was guaranteed to work, I wouldn't hesitate.
"—And now! It appears the judging is complete! Which chef will emerge victorious!?"
For this match, there was one condition I had to meet in order to obtain Kikuchi Sonoka.
It wasn't beating Hayama Akira. It was earning exactly the same evaluation as the dish Hayama Akira had presented.
A draw.
Whether or not I could force that outcome would decide whether or not I got Kikuchi Sonoka.
In the original story, Hayama and Kurokiba had fought to a draw and both advanced to the finals. The person who had played the biggest role in that unprecedented decision was Kikuchi Sonoka. She had been unable to declare either dish superior, which led directly to the draw. That was precisely what I was aiming for—forcing Kikuchi Sonoka to call it a draw.
To make it happen, I had used Mimasaka to gather every detail on Hayama's dish: ingredients, seasonings, equipment, and especially the spices. I knew it all. If I wanted to, I could even add a small twist like Mimasaka would and still win. But I wasn't allowed to win. I had to produce a dish at exactly the same level of quality, or there would be no draw.
Under normal circumstances, that would be impossible. For anyone else.
"…I-I think… Hayama-kun wins!"
"I believe… Santoku Shogo's dish is superior."
Inui Hinako spoke first, followed immediately by Mizuhara Fuyumi. The votes split, tying the match at 1–1.
"I vote for… Hayama Akira. I felt his dish had slightly more passion behind it."
Dojima Gin gave his vote to Hayama. As expected of Totsuki's top culinary authority—his palate was sharp. The score was now 2–1.
Two judges remained: Tsukazaki Taki and Kikuchi Sonoka. I was praying Taki would speak first. If she didn't, the decisive factor would fall entirely on Kikuchi Sonoka.
Even now, looking back, the plan relied far too heavily on luck. It was borderline reckless. But that was exactly why overcoming it would feel so good. Kikuchi Sonoka was worth that much.
"…I vote for Santoku Shogo!"
The moment Taki spoke, I clenched my fist hard.
So far, everything was going exactly as planned. So far, everything was smooth. Now it all came down to the final judge.
"…"
Sonoka kept her head down, face pale. She looked devastated that she had become the last judge while still unable to decide.
The final judge. If she hadn't been put in the position of deciding the entire match, she probably wouldn't have agonized this much. The responsibility of determining the winner—or, to put it another way, the responsibility of deciding the loser—was simply too heavy for her.
It would work. It had to work.
I trusted my own skill. This woman would definitely—run away.
"—...I can't decide."
The faint whisper was all it took. That single sentence announced that I had achieved my victory condition.
It felt like the first time I had ever truly competed in a cooking battle. And it also felt like the first time I had ever truly enjoyed one. Apparently I had felt more pressure than I realized. Facing the semifinal after an all-nighter had been a tougher challenge than I expected.
"What do you mean you can't decide!?"
"Are you trying to tarnish a sacred cooking match!?"
"Fulfill your duty as a judge!!"
Jeers flew at Sonoka from the guest seats for dodging the verdict. It was only natural. In the long history of the Autumn Elections, an undecided match was unthinkable. If things continued like this, voices would soon demand that Sonoka take responsibility. And Dojima Gin would probably step in to prevent that.
I already knew how it would play out from the original story.
That was why I moved one step ahead. Winning or losing the match didn't matter to me. For me, defeat wasn't decided by cooking. There was only one thing I considered a true defeat: letting a targeted woman slip through my fingers.
I raised my hand high to draw attention, then spoke while fighting off the drowsiness that threatened to pull me under, every judge's eyes on me.
"—I concede this match."
***
***
***
300 Power Stone = +1 extra chapter.
For early access to 10 chapters: p@tre~~.com/Demonic_Fiction (Link is in the synopsis and my profile).