Chapter 83.
Even grasping the mechanics of the Rising Dragon Dumplings, Dojima Gin and the alumni knew the truth: they couldn't replicate the dish perfectly.
The supernatural luminescence of the food remained an absolute mystery. They kept their silence, privately assuming such a phenomenon had to be a closely guarded secret of the Aristocratic Culinary Families. They wouldn't dare pry.
Had Shijun known their thoughts, he would have laughed out loud.
The Aristocratic families possessed no such recipe; his glowing dishes were entirely the product of his System.
At precisely eight o'clock, the morning trial concluded. A collective wave of relief washed over the students who had managed to serve their two hundred portions. The pressure had been suffocating, pushing many to the brink of giving up. If Shijun hadn't sold out his thousand servings ahead of schedule, completely freeing up the crowd, many more would have failed.
Finally, Dojima Gin announced the standings for their hall.
Shijun stood at a staggering first place with exactly one thousand servings. Erina took second with 352, followed by Alice at 300, Soma at 281, and Takumi at 270.
For Erina, 352 was an underwhelming figure. Yet, there was nothing she could do.
Shijun's overwhelming victory had shattered every sales record in Totsuki's residential training history. And the only reason his count stopped at a thousand was simply because he had prepared exactly that many. If he had kept cooking, the rest of the hall would have been entirely wiped out.
Even with the crowd eventually dispersing to other stations, more than half the students in their block were eliminated. Due to the sudden format change, the casualty rates across the other testing halls were similarly brutal.
Dojima Gin smiled bitterly to himself. If four hundred students survived this camp, it would be a miracle. But he felt no regret. The remaining elite would undoubtedly forge a new golden age for the culinary world.
The rest of the training camp proceeded without any further riots. On the fifth day, at four in the afternoon, Dojima summoned the remaining students. The tension in the room was palpable. They had survived hell this long and dreaded the possibility of one final, nightmarish assessment.
Instead, Dojima simply announced the final tally: 428 students had passed.
Cheers erupted instantly. Exhausted students collapsed, many bursting into tears of pure joy. They had actually survived.
Megumi Tadokoro let out a long, shaky breath, a bright smile breaking through her lingering anxiety. She turned her large, watery eyes toward the tall boy beside her. She knew perfectly well that without Shijun, she would have been expelled days ago.
"Thank you, Shijun." she said softly, her gratitude absolute.
"If you really want to thank me, cook something delicious for me when we get back."
He replied with a warm smile. Honestly, Megumi was a fantastic cook. If she was willing to handle his meals occasionally, it would save him the effort.
"I will!" she beamed, readily agreeing.
That night, the survivors enjoyed a lavish banquet prepared by the elite alumni. The entire hall descended into a well-earned carnival.
Early the next morning, it was time to board the buses back to the academy.
Shijun arrived at the assembly point on time, as always. But when Megumi asked about his heavy iron rod, he froze. He had already stored it away in his inventory. Pulling a massive steel staff out of thin air in front of a crowd was guaranteed to cause a panic, and he had no intention of exposing his secrets.
Feigning forgetfulness, he excused himself to run back upstairs to "grab it."
When he finally returned to the courtyard, the autumn wind blew relentlessly across the empty pavement.
The buses were gone. Totsuki operated on absolute punctuality; they hadn't waited for him.
Grip tightening on his steel rod, Shijun could only sigh at his own rotten luck. He was just about to pull out his phone to arrange a ride when a sleek, black luxury car pulled into view.
Walking toward it, dragging her suitcase, was Erina.
Right, he remembered. The new clerk for my Research Society has a private car.
A grin spread across his face as he strolled over.
"Hey, Erina. Mind if I hitch a ride? Missed my bus."
Erina paused, a flicker of genuine amusement breaking through her haughty demeanor.
It was slightly validating to see this infuriating man actually suffer a setback.
She opened her mouth to refuse, fully intending to abandon him in the wilderness, but Shijun didn't give her the chance. Without a shred of hesitation, he opened the door and slid into the backseat.
"Get out."
Erina snapped, her brow twitching with immediate annoyance. He was treating her car like a public taxi.
"We're going to the same place anyway. Just give me a ride."
Shijun replied, leaning back comfortably.
"Absolutely not. I refuse to share a car with you."
Her tone was venomous. Just looking at him reminded her of her crushing humiliation.
Shijun's relaxed smile sharpened just a fraction.
"Don't forget, you're the official clerk of my Research Society now. Do you really want to go back to campus and find yourself scrubbing pots and sorting garbage?"
It was a quiet threat, but an effective one.
Director Senzaemon had overseen their Shokugeki.
Shijun had been remarkably lenient so far, but by the absolute rules of their duel, he could easily order the proud heiress to wash the toilets, and no one would dare intervene. Now, he was just asking for a ride, and she was being stubborn.
Erina froze.
The horrifying reality of her new position under Shijun's command came crashing back. The thought of spending the foreseeable future doing his menial bidding sent a wave of despair through her.
Lacking the courage to actually kick him out, she let out a frustrated sound and got into the car.
She immediately turned her head to stare out the window, refusing to acknowledge him. The engine started, and the car rolled forward, descending into a tense, suffocating silence.