[Broadcast Log — Flavor Network | 2051 | System Stability 2%]
The studio looked half-dead.
Sparks fell from the ceiling; lights flickered like dying stars.
On-air alarms kept looping:
"⚠ FLAVOR SUPPLY CRITICAL. ALL CELEBRITY CHEFS HAVE LOGGED OFF."
Only one feed still ran.
Arin Sol's.
Lira Vale opened the pantry. "We're down to sardines, eggs, and one pack of pancit canton."
She paused. "Is this a eulogy or a grocery list?"
Arin tied his apron, expression maddeningly calm. "Neither. It's a miracle waiting for heat."
1 — THE PLAN NO ONE APPROVED
He lined the ingredients like sacred relics.
"The universe doesn't need another luxury course," he said. "It needs proof that cheap food can still taste like hope."
Lira squinted. "You're making hope noodles."
He grinned. "Gourmet hope noodles."
The reactor-stove sputtered on. Oil hissed, catching fragments of cosmic dust like glitter.
2 — ARIN SOL'S GOURMET RECIPE FOR DISASTER
Step one: he toasted the dry noodles in garlic butter until they turned bronze.
Step two: crushed sardines were folded in with calamansi gel and soy-glaze reduction.
Step three: he whipped the powdered seasoning into a foam using carbonated mineral water stolen from the judges' lounge.
Step four: a single fried egg—yolk runny, edge crisp—crowned the dish like sunrise.
Lira watched, half-disbelieving.
"You turned student breakfast into… something that looks illegal."
"Relax," Arin said. "If the Federation arrests me, I'll feed them too."
3 — FLASHBACK: MANILA CULINARY ACADEMY, 2041
Steam fogged the training kitchen.
Young Arin, twenty-one, grinned at seventeen-year-old Kaiya Yamaguchi over a saucepan.
"You're measuring salt again?"
"I'm measuring consistency," she replied.
He threw in instant noodles, sardines, and egg—chaos in a pot.
She glared. "That's cafeteria food."
"Exactly," he said. "The kind that keeps dreams alive."
When the judges tasted it, they frowned first—then smiled.
"It's poor food cooked with rich intent," one said.
Kaiya looked at him differently after that.
4 — 2051: THE RETURN OF THAT TASTE
Back in the crumbling studio, Arin plated the finished dish:
pancit canton reborn—foam gleaming, sardine fillets laid like gold, egg glistening under reactor light.
He set the plate down with reverence.
Lira leaned in. "It's beautiful. I hate that it's beautiful."
He smiled. "It's the kind of meal you eat when the world forgets you exist."
Across the galaxy, forgotten transmitters clicked alive.
People saw the noodles—cheap, glowing, perfect.
A miner whispered, "That's payday food."
A child on Titan said, "Mama, it smells like before."
5 — KAIYA'S SIGNAL
Through static, a voice broke in—steady, older, warm.
Kaiya Yamaguchi:
"Arin… I'm watching. Don't stop now."
He froze, then laughed softly. "You finally tuned in, huh?"
Kaiya's voice crackled. "You used to say cheap food could carry the galaxy. I thought you were insane."
"What changed?"
A pause. "You did. You cooked like you meant it."
The line cut to static.
6 — THE LAST BITE
Arin faced the camera.
"To everyone still cooking with what little you have—this is yours."
He tasted the dish.
Eyes closed. Silence.
Then—light.
The Flavor Network overloaded. Every broadcast, every signal, every artificial taste receptor short-circuited.
ALERT: "Authenticity Overload."
SYSTEM: "Unable to replicate honesty."
Lira braced herself. "You broke flavor again!"
Arin laughed through the static. "Then maybe it needed breaking."
7 — AFTERTASTE
The feed dissolved to white noise.
Through it, Kaiya's voice lingered faintly:
"Iho… you finally learned. The best meals aren't expensive—they're remembered."
The screen faded.
Somewhere in the dark, the gourmet pancit canton kept steaming—
simple, absurd, perfect—
and for one impossible second, the galaxy tasted sincerity.
End of Chapter 6.5 — "The Cheapest Feast in the Galaxy"
To be continued → Chapter 7 — "The Day Flavor Died."