"No problem. After all, I'm not letting go of that kind of meat."Daiki nodded with a calm smile. Even if the man he mentioned was made up, he'd go through the motions—it was part of the game.
The next day, Daiki headed to the market. He mostly wandered, casually browsing without much purpose. When he returned, he told Dojima Gin he hadn't found the person in question.
Dojima looked mildly disappointed but not disheartened. Instead, he asked Daiki for a description of the man's appearance and sent others to monitor the market more closely.
Daiki resumed his usual rhythm—studying, cooking, and experimenting. Every day he'd go "fishing" with small bait, metaphorically speaking, hoping to hook something worthwhile. But catching premium ingredients like white-haired Cindyla beef was a rare stroke of luck. More often, what he reeled in were ordinary, uninspiring catches.
Time slipped by, and before long, a month had passed. By then, Daiki had become a well-known figure around the Tōtsuki Resort. He was dubbed the Explosive Flame Chef.
The nickname came from his trademark cooking technique—Explosive Flame—which had become synonymous with his style. Guests and staff alike recognized him by this name, and it stuck.
Daiki specialized in Japanese cuisine. While the resort hosted many skilled Japaese chefs, Daiki's food stood out—not because it was radically different, but because it was universally loved. His dishes carried an unmistakable fiery depth, a vibrant flavor powered by his unique ability. One bite, and diners instantly knew: this was Daiki's work.
Word of his talent spread quickly. In just weeks, Daiki became a culinary magnet. Guests came not just for the resort, but for him. In the final days before the new semester, the influx of visitors nearly crashed the resort's customer service system.
Once it was publicly announced that Daiki was just an intern and would be returning to Tōtsuki Academy soon, guests flooded in—hoping to experience his cooking before he left.
Daiki welcomed the rush. The grueling, high-volume service was demanding, but he thrived under pressure. This non-stop pace honed his skills rapidly. Thanks to this, he picked up a second nickname among the kitchen staff: Physical Strength Monster.
Where most chefs would burn out after a day or two of such relentless work, Daiki endured it for a full month without faltering. It was as if his stamina knew no limits, leaving onlookers stunned.
During this time, Ryo Kurokiba challenged him repeatedly. Though Daiki didn't see it as a competition, Ryo pushed to match him in technique, creativity, and endurance. But the gap between them became clear. Within a week, Ryo stopped. Silenced—not out of frustration, but sheer respect.
Even Alice Nakiri was surprised. Seeing Ryo humbled like that was a rare sight—it might've been a first.
"Your internship ends tomorrow. You'll be heading back to Tōtsuki,"Dojima Gin said, glancing at the three interns seated at the table. "How do you feel about everything so far?"
Daiki looked up from his food, a confident glint in his eye.
"It's been great—challenging, but fulfilling. I've grown a lot. If I had just a bit more time here, I think I could break into third-class chef territory."
Daiki smiled, a rare trace of pride showing on his face.He had finally experienced what it felt like to be a top student—where effort was rewarded with results. And when success came so directly, the grueling work behind it faded into the background.
In moments like this, all the exhaustion felt worth it.
"That's your perspective," Dojima Gin remarked with a smirk. "But honestly, with your current skills, you're already at the level of a third-rate chef."
He shook his head, amused. He had noticed early on that Daiki held himself to exceptionally high standards—so high that even praise bounced off him.
But Daiki could only respond with a helpless shrug.Whether or not he qualified as a third-rate chef wasn't something society decided—it was up to the system.
To earn "growth bait," Daiki needed the system's recognition. Dojima Gin might praise his talent, but the system's standards were in a league of their own. If he didn't meet them, no amount of outside validation mattered.
In truth, the only reason Daiki could even match a third-rate chef's output was thanks to his two unique skills—Food Etiquette (Principle of food) and Sense of Touch.
With Tōtsuki's vast resources, Daiki's "touch" ability had developed rapidly. An endless stream of ingredients from all over the world flooded into the resort kitchens, constantly enriching his sensory database.
In the past, Daiki's analytical skills were decent, but incomplete. He could identify the number of components in a dish—flavors, seasonings, and base ingredients—but naming or recreating them? That was another story.
Now, though he wouldn't dare say he could decode every secret recipe on Earth, Daiki was confident he could analyze more than 99% of dishes placed in front of him.
But even more vital than touch was Food Righteousness.
Though slow to level up, it offered massive bonuses to every other skill, acting as the catalyst for accelerated growth. Daiki had leaned on his evolving "Shi Yi"—his personal food philosophy—to patch up his weaknesses and bring himself ever closer to the system's third-class chef threshold.
Frankly, the system's bar was absurdly high. Daiki often wondered—if these standards were used globally, most so-called "third-rate chefs" would probably get demoted to "senior home cooks."
"Only a freak like you would call this fulfilling,"Alice Nakiri muttered beside him, poking at her food with a sigh. "Still… I have to admit, I've improved more in this internship than I ever did at Nakiri International."
Her tone was one of reluctant admiration.
At Nakiri International, Alice had done everything from scientific demonstrations to international food shows—but she had never worked on the line in an actual restaurant, where the pressure was constant and the feedback immediate.
"That's how it should be," Dojima Gin said with a chuckle. "High-pressure training is the best way to awaken potential. In fact, you three have already gotten a taste of Tōtsuki's next two major assessments."
He leaned forward, voice lowering as if sharing a secret.
"Residential training… and field training."
Alice blinked, then nodded. She knew what he meant. Everyone at Tōtsuki did. These two legendary assessments were a rite of passage. Every student faced them, though the format shifted every year to keep things unpredictable.
This internship, intense and relentless as it was, had essentially combined both experiences into one. It wasn't just a trial run—it was a crucible that had accelerated their growth far beyond expectations.
And with the foundation they had now, none of them needed to fear what lay ahead.