"Uncle Dojima, things should've calmed down outside by now,"Daiki said casually, not looking up as he continued to stir the sizzling pan.
Dojima Gin stepped into the kitchen, his face both amused and impressed."You little rascal, you knew what was happening out there?" he said, inhaling deeply. "This aroma is outrageous. What on earth are you cooking?"
Daiki smirked without turning his head."With a scent like that flooding the whole resort? Hard not to know. It's a special cut I picked up from a market outside." His tone was light, almost careless.
Of course, that wasn't the whole truth.
He'd sensed the commotion—not through hearing, but through the subtle shifts in the atmosphere. When cooking at his peak, Daiki's senses were enhanced beyond normal human perception. Sound, scent, and even the pressure of attention—it all became clear. And with his heightened culinary intuition, multitasking was second nature. He could cook with perfect precision while keeping track of everything happening beyond the walls.
Dojima raised an eyebrow. "A market cut? What kind of meat is it? This smell… I've never encountered anything like it."
Daiki shrugged, keeping up the bluff."The vendor said it was beef. That's all I know."
That was technically true. He couldn't exactly admit it came from a white-haired Cindy Laila cow—a species from another world entirely. Even if he tried to explain, no one here would understand.
His fishing ability was too inconsistent to rely on. Sometimes he pulled rare treasures, like the Seven-Star Knife or this otherworldly beef. Other times… total junk.
"Beef, huh?" Dojima muttered, narrowing his eyes.
He watched closely as Daiki stirred the thick, glistening sauce into the tender cubes of braised meat. Something about the marbling and the way it reacted to heat was off. It didn't behave like any beef he'd seen.
"When I first touched it, I thought the same thing," Daiki admitted. "Something about it felt different. It's not like any regular beef I've used. But my sense of touch didn't pick up anything wrong."
That was enough to ease Dojima's doubts.
Daiki's culinary sense of touch was on par with Erina Nakiri's famed God Tongue. If there were anything wrong or unnatural about the ingredient, Daiki would've detected it instantly. He was practically a living lie detector for food.
A few more minutes passed, and the dishes were complete.
Daiki stepped back, satisfied. Two finished masterpieces sat on the counter—twice-cooked stir-fried pork and braised belly slices, both radiating with a deep, fiery aroma that danced through the air like incense from heaven.
Daiki silently marveled at the power of his Explosive Flame. It didn't just give him total control over heat—it amplified the flavor in ways normal cooking couldn't. It shaved down cooking time without compromising quality, and the high-heat intensity brought every layer of umami to its peak in record time.
"Go ahead, Uncle. Try them," Daiki offered, gesturing to the plates.
Dojima, already intrigued, didn't hesitate. He even called for someone to bring a bottle of wine to pair with the tasting. Daiki, of course, poured himself a soda. Gin wouldn't let him near alcohol anyway—and besides, he wasn't interested.
The first dish he tried was the twice-cooked pork.
The moment it touched his tongue, his senses exploded.
The flavor hit like a detonation—waves of smoky sweetness and fire-roasted umami, layered with just the right crisp on the edges and a melt-in-your-mouth tenderness. The explosive flame had pushed the pork's texture and flavor to the absolute limit, coaxing out every molecule of savory richness.
Dojima froze, chopsticks suspended in mid-air.
This… isn't just beef.
It tasted like beef, yes—but there was something more. Something deeper. The flavor notes were more profound than any Wagyu he'd ever tasted. Each bite was like biting into the myth of meat itself.
Even for someone like Dojima Gin, who had tasted the rarest delicacies on Earth, this beef made everything else pale in comparison.
What… is this meat?
Of course, he didn't ask aloud. He knew better than to press Daiki too hard. Some secrets weren't meant to be explained.
All he could do was take another bite—and another—eyes slightly wide, expression caught between disbelief and awe.
This was a flavor beyond the boundaries of Earthly cuisine.
And he had a feeling…
Daiki was only getting started.
At that moment, Daiki finally took the time to enjoy the full flavor of the white-haired Cindy Laila beef—and it did not disappoint.
The texture was tender beyond belief, each bite carrying an explosion of depth and richness. It was like the meat had absorbed the essence of every prime cut on Earth and transcended them all.
But before he could savor another bite in peace, Dojima Gin reached across the table like a seasoned battlefield veteran.
The chopsticks clashed.
A brief silence.
Then—the war began.
What was supposed to be a friendly tasting session turned into a meat-snatching melee, as two of Totsuki's fiercest gourmets dueled with chopsticks under the fluorescent lights.
It didn't matter that Daiki had an entire fishing space where he could potentially pull more of this beef. It didn't matter that small baits might eventually bring more.
What did matter was this:There were only two dishes. And both men were hungry.
Despite the generous portions, both Daiki and Gin's appetites were formidable. Within minutes, their once-civil tasting turned into a high-speed blur of chopstick combat. Sauces splashed. Shadows flickered. Their chopsticks clashed like swords, sparking flashes of kitchen-grade lightning.
It was culinary carnage.
Dojima tried to keep up, but Daiki's enhanced sense of touch and food intuition gave him a massive edge. He could predict Gin's moves before they happened, intercept a bite mid-air, or reroute his own chopsticks with inhuman precision.
If he wanted, Daiki could've left Dojima Gin with nothing but an empty plate.
But the veteran wasn't without tricks of his own.
Just as Daiki snagged the last chunk of stir-fried pork, Gin pulled a move that caught him completely off guard.
He summoned a bowl of rice.
And then—without hesitation—he poured the remaining sauce from both dishes over it, mixing it in like a man possessed.
The savory scent hit them both like a truck.
Daiki paused, speechless.Dojima Gin didn't even bother pouring his wine. He scooped a steaming spoonful of rice-soaked sauce and took a bite, his eyes momentarily rolling back in bliss.
Daiki… followed.
After all, this was Cindy Laila beef sauce—even the leftovers were worthy of royalty.
And so, in that quiet kitchen filled with the scent of fire and spice, a very strange sight unfolded:The head of Totsuki Resort and a student chef, hunched over bowls of rice, scraping up every last trace of sauce like a couple of starving delinquents.
If anyone from the resort staff had walked in right then, they would've doubted their eyes.
Gin Dojima, the paragon of culinary professionalism, eating like a student mixing leftovers with rice.
It was glorious.
After the meal, both men leaned back in their chairs with satisfied sighs.
Then, Gin's expression turned serious.
"Daiki," he said, swirling the untouched wine in his glass. "Tomorrow, go back to that market. Find whoever sold you this meat—anyone connected to it. Buy everything they've got."
Daiki blinked."You want me to clean them out?"
"Absolutely," Gin replied, tone sharp and urgent. "If there's even a chance of more meat like this showing up… we need it. Lock it down. And get their contact info too."
Daiki gave a casual nod, though inwardly, he smirked.
Uncle Gin… if only you knew.
This beef didn't come from any market stall or shady supplier. It came from another world entirely. A place where ingredients had to be hunted like apex predators. A place where the very act of eating could change your body—and your destiny.
But for now, Daiki kept that secret to himself.
After all, it wasn't just about the meat.
It was about what he'd cook next.
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