Chapter 61: The Queen's Knight and the White Gate
The morning breeze flowed through the open windows of the bus, carrying the scent of urban dust and distant greenery. The sun was climbing higher, casting a brilliant, crystalline light over the sprawling cityscape of Tokyo, bathing the world in a fresh, invigorating glow.
However, inside the swaying metal box of the public bus, the atmosphere was far from serene for one particular passenger.
Lucifer, the CEO of Hell and former Archangel, stood in the aisle, her hand gripping the overhead strap with a tightness that threatened to crush the reinforced plastic. She wore a stylish beige trench coat over her usual crimson and black suit, attempting to blend in with the human populace, but her unparalleled beauty and regal aura made her stand out like a diamond in a pile of gravel.
To her, this mode of transport was a indignity. A torture device of the lower realm. It smelled of sweat, cheap cologne, and the crushing despair of the morning commute.
"Ren," she hissed, leaning slightly backward so her voice would reach the man standing behind her. "Why must we endure this? We could have flown. Or opened a portal. This... box shakes too much."
Ren, standing protectively behind her to create a buffer between the Queen of Hell and the crushing crowd, smiled softly. His tall frame acted as a human shield.
"It's called the 'commoner experience,' Lucifer," he whispered back, his breath tickling her ear. "Besides, flying attracts too much attention. Just hold on."
Cerberus, on the other hand, was having the time of her life. She was pressed against a window nearby, her nose practically squished against the glass, watching the buildings fly by with wide, sparkling eyes.
"Master! Look! A dog! Another dog! A big dog!" she would exclaim every thirty seconds, pointing at poodles and shiba inus being walked on the sidewalk. "Can I say hello? Can I?"
"Not now, Cerberus. Stay focused," Ren chuckled.
However, the peaceful, if slightly crowded, journey was about to be interrupted.
As the bus navigated a sharp turn, the crowd shifted heavily to the right. A man standing near them—a disheveled, greasy-looking individual with shifty eyes and a mask that didn't quite hide his lecherous expression—took advantage of the momentum.
He lurched forward, feigning a loss of balance. His hand reached out, not for a strap or a pole, but towards Lucifer's waist, aiming for a disgusting, opportunistic grope.
It was a classic, despicable move of a chikan, relying on the crowded space to mask his intent and the victim's silence to escape consequences.
Lucifer, despite her weakened state in the human world, was still the Queen of Hell. Her senses were sharper than any mortal's. She felt the malicious, slimy intent radiating from the man before his hand even moved.
Her crimson eyes narrowed, the pupils constricting into vertical slits. A dark, suffocating aura instantly began to leak from her form, dropping the temperature around her by several degrees.
Filthy insect.
She didn't need to turn around. In her mind, she had already envisioned three different ways to eviscerate him instantly. A spike of hellfire from the floor? Turning his blood into vinegar? Or perhaps just crushing his soul into a fine powder and snorting it?
She raised her free hand, preparing to snap her fingers and unleash a massacre that would likely traumatize the innocent elderly couple sitting nearby.
But before she could act—before she could stain the public transport with divine retribution—a shadow moved faster than her.
Thud.
A strong, warm hand clamped down on the pervert's wrist like a vice made of hydraulic steel. It stopped the offending hand mere inches from Lucifer's coat.
The man yelped, a strangled, high-pitched sound of pain, as his radius and ulna ground together under immense pressure. He looked up, sweat pouring down his face, straight into the cold, silver eyes of Ren.
Ren wasn't smiling. The gentle, approachable shopkeeper was gone. In his place was the "Carnivore," the man who had walked through underground fighting arenas and stood atop piles of bodies. His gaze was freezing, devoid of any mercy or humanity. It was the look of a predator staring at prey that wasn't even worth eating.
"Wrong stop," Ren whispered, his voice low and melodious, yet carrying a terrifying weight that froze the man's blood in his veins.
With a fluid motion that looked almost casual to an observer, Ren twisted the man's arm behind his back, applying a joint lock that sent waves of agony shooting up the attacker's shoulder. He shoved the man toward the opening rear doors as the bus pulled into a stop.
"Get out. Before I break it."
The man didn't argue. He didn't dare look back. He stumbled out of the bus, tripping over his own feet, clutching his bruised wrist and terrified by the murderous intent that had just washed over him.
The doors closed. The bus moved on.
The surrounding passengers hadn't even realized what had happened. It was over in seconds, executed with the precision of a master assassin.
Lucifer stood there, stunned. Her hand, halfway raised to cast a death spell, slowly lowered. She looked at the empty space where the insect had been, and then she turned her head to look at Ren.
He was adjusting his cuffs, his expression softening back into his usual gentle demeanor as if nothing had happened. He met her gaze and offered a small, reassuring smile.
"Are you okay, Lucifer? Did he touch you?"
Lucifer blinked. Her heart, which usually beat with the slow, steady rhythm of an eternal being, skipped a beat. A strange warmth flooded her chest, different from the sulfurous heat of Hell. It was... pleasant.
"I... I'm fine," she whispered, gripping the strap tighter to hide the slight trembling of her hands. It wasn't fear. It was adrenaline, mixed with something else. "I could have handled it, you know. I was going to turn him into ash."
Ren rolled his eyes playfully, reaching out to straighten the collar of her trench coat which had been ruffled. "I know you could have. You're the Queen, after all. But look around."
He gestured subtly to the old lady knitting in the priority seat and the elementary school students chatting nearby.
"If you turned him into ash here, you'd scare the children. And cleaning up human remains from the upholstery is a nightmare; the bus driver doesn't get paid enough for that. Leave the trash disposal to me."
Lucifer looked at him. He wasn't protecting her because he thought she was weak. He was protecting her environment. He was protecting... her peace.
She lowered her head, a flush rising to her pale cheeks that she couldn't suppress. She felt a flutter in her stomach that annoyed her greatly.
"Hmph. Meddlesome human," she muttered, but instead of pulling away, she moved closer to him, her shoulder pressing firmly against his chest. "But... thank you. For saving me the effort."
Ren smiled and patted her head, ignoring her half-hearted attempt to dodge. "You're welcome, Your Majesty."
Cerberus, who had missed the entire interaction because she saw a particularly fluffy Golden Retriever outside, turned around with a confused expression.
"Master? Why is Lucifer red? Is she hungry? Did she see a cat?"
"She's just warm, Cerberus. We're almost there."
Totsuki Culinary Academy - High School Division
While the small drama on the bus concluded, a different kind of tension was brewing within the hallowed halls of Totsuki.
In Classroom 1-C, the atmosphere was heavy with boredom and anxiety.
A girl with chin-length silver-white hair and ruby-red eyes was leaning back in her chair, balancing precariously on two legs. Her uniform was customized with a beige vest, distinguishing her from the sea of standard blues.
Alice Nakiri sighed loudly, letting her head loll back. "Ah~ So boring. Why isn't the teacher here yet? I could be testing my new centrifuge right now."
There were two empty seats next to her, creating a buffer zone. No one dared to sit there. The reason was simple: this girl was Alice Nakiri, the heiress to the Nakiri family's molecular gastronomy empire, and her standards were terrifyingly high.
"Maybe Chapelle-sensei finally smiled and the world ended?" she mused to herself.
Whoosh…
The sliding door at the front of the classroom opened.
Thirty heads snapped up instantly. The students straightened their backs, expecting the stern face of Roland Chapelle, the "Magician of Legumes."
But it wasn't the teacher they expected. Instead, it was a presence that shocked them even more.
A girl with long, flowing honey-blonde hair and violet eyes walked in. She radiated an aura of absolute nobility and icy perfection.
"Nakiri... Erina?" someone whispered in terror.
Alice was stunned when she saw who had arrived. She let her chair drop back to all fours with a loud clack and ran over.
"Erina!" Alice exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger. "Why are you here?! Aren't you supposed to be at some fancy tasting event? I thought you skipped the peasant classes."
This was also the question the surrounding students wanted to know. Why was the "God Tongue," the wielder of the 10th Seat of the Elite Ten, attending a standard first-year practical?
Erina crossed her arms, lifting her chin. "That's not for you to ask, Alice. My schedule is my own concern. Where is the substitute teacher?"
"Huh?!" Alice blinked. "You even know that Mr. Chapelle went out on business? I never would have thought Erina, you're surprisingly interested in regular classes today. Did the sun rise from the west?"
She checked her watch. "The substitute teacher still hasn't arrived, and it's already ten minutes into class. This is highly unprofessional."
Erina frowned, tapping her foot impatiently. The reason she was late was because she had to forcefully cancel her entire schedule for the day, arguing with three different committees on the phone. But this teacher... was he being arrogant? Having her grandfather call her personally to attend, and then making her wait?
"If he's wasting my time..." Erina muttered darkly.
No sooner had she spoken than the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway.
Click. Click. Click.
It wasn't the heavy tread of a strict instructor. It was the casual, rhythmic walk of someone taking a stroll.
Everyone looked towards the door. This time, it had to be the teacher. Erina also turned her head with a sneer, preparing a scathing remark for the tardiness. She wanted to see what kind of substitute teacher could have such a grand, delayed entrance.
"This should be 1-C, right~?"
Hearing the voice, Erina froze. Her sneer vanished instantly.
It sounded... familiar. Impossibly familiar.
The next moment, the door opened fully.
The students gasped. A collective intake of breath sucked the air out of the room.
Three people walked in.
First, a tall young man with silver hair and calm, confident eyes. He wore casual clothes—a white shirt and black trousers—that looked sharp but completely un-academic.
Behind him were two women who looked like they had walked off the runway of a high-fashion magazine. One had silver hair and crimson eyes, wearing a trench coat with an air of supreme arrogance. The other had white hair and wild, energetic eyes, looking around with curiosity.
Alice clapped her hands, a mischievous grin appearing. "Wow~ Are there still students who are late? Transfer students? And he brought his harem? How bold!"
Erina and Hisako (who was standing by the door) were already frozen, completely stunned. Their brains had short-circuited.
The people who had arrived were precisely the three from the Dimensional Restaurant.
Ren smiled at the room, unbothered by the stares. He walked to the podium.
"Excuse me, student," Ren said, looking at Alice. "But I am not a transfer student. I am the teacher. To be precise, I am the substitute teacher for today."
Alice was taken aback. Her jaw dropped. "Hah?! You're the substitute teacher?! Impossible! How old are you?! You look barely older than me! How can you be a teacher already?! Is this a prank?"
"Alice! Don't be rude!"
A sharp, commanding voice cut through the room.
Alice was startled. She turned to see Erina walking forward, her face flushed with an emotion Alice had never seen before. It wasn't anger. It was... excitement?
Erina stopped in front of Ren. The "Ice Queen" melted instantly. Her eyes were sparkling.
"Shopkeeper Ren!" she exclaimed, her voice breathless. "Why are you here! Are you really the substitute teacher?! Is this true?!"
Ren smiled at her warmth. "Yes. Your grandfather called me early this morning—at 4 AM, to be precise—and nagged me for a long time. I couldn't resist his persistence in the end, so I agreed to fill in. I didn't expect you to be in this class, Erina. I thought you were busy."
Erina nodded vigorously, her heart almost bursting with love for her grandfather! Grandpa! You sly old fox! You are truly amazing! To be able to get Ren to come and be a teacher! This class couldn't be measured by money! This is a private lesson from a god!
"I... I cleared my schedule!" Erina stammered slightly. "When I heard there was a special instructor..."
Hisako, standing behind her, also bowed deeply, her face red with excitement. "Shopkeeper Ren's class! I'm really looking forward to it! We are honored!"
Alice and the other students were dumbfounded. They looked between the smiling Ren and the blushing Erina.
Was this the arrogant Erina?
Erina was someone who didn't even give the Elite Ten seniors any face! She famously told Eishi Tsukasa his tea was "passable." She was one of Totsuki's undisputed queens, a tyrant of taste!
And now she looked like a fan meeting her idol.
Alice sidled up to Erina and whispered loudly, "Erina... are you okay? Did you hit your head? Is this teacher very powerful? He looks like a model, not a chef."
Erina let out a sigh, regaining a shred of her dignity. She looked at her cousin with pity.
"Alice," she said solemnly. "You'd better listen carefully to this class. Forget your machines for a moment. Shopkeeper Ren's strength is... terrifying. It is beyond the scale of this academy."
"More than Senior Tsukasa? The First Seat?" Alice challenged skeptically.
Erina snorted. "Tsukasa? Don't make me laugh. Any random dish from Shopkeeper Ren—even his leftovers—would be enough for Senior Tsukasa to study for several years just to understand the concept."
(Somewhere in the Elite Ten council room, Eishi Tsukasa sneezed violently. "Why do I feel like I just became a unit of combat power again?")
The class gasped. If they didn't know that Erina never liked to joke about food, they would never believe it. But the sincerity in her eyes was terrifying.
Ren clapped his hands to bring the attention back to him.
"Alright, settle down. Sorry, everyone. There was some traffic earlier involving a pervert on the bus, so I'm late. Well, let's see... Let's all introduce ourselves first. It's fate that I can teach you a class. Let's get to know each other."
He pointed to Erina. "Erina, you start first~. Set the example."
Erina nodded, standing straight. "Yes! I am Erina Nakiri. 10th Seat of the Elite Ten. It is an honor to be in your class, Ren-sensei!"
After everyone had introduced themselves (most of them terrified by Erina's presence), Ren nodded and looked at Alice.
"I didn't expect you to be Alice's cousin," Ren said with a hint of amusement, looking at the white-haired girl. "I can see the resemblance in the eyes. But as for Molecular Gastronomy… never mind, we'll talk about your toys later."
Alice pouted. "They aren't toys! They are science!"
"Science is just a tool, Alice. Taste is the goal."
Ren walked to the blackboard. He picked up a piece of chalk.
"I won't introduce myself much. I'm here to substitute, and only for this one day, so you don't need to call me 'teacher' or 'sensei'. Just call me Ren. I am a chef, nothing more."
Everyone nodded, though none dared to actually call him just 'Ren'.
Ren looked at Chapelle's scheduled lesson plan pinned to the board. He read it and nodded.
"Hmm. Very traditional methods. The classic French curriculum. Not bad. Mr. Chapelle's lesson today is Borscht."
He wrote the word on the board in elegant script.
"So, my lesson today will also be this."
Everyone was startled. Borscht? A simple beet soup? They expected something exotic from a man Erina praised so highly.
Erina, however, was listening very carefully, her eyes narrowed in concentration. She knew Ren never did anything simply.
Ren pointed to the standard recipe on the blackboard.
"This is the textbook recipe. It is correct. It produces a passing grade. But..."
He turned to the class, his silver eyes gleaming.
"Now I'll give you ten minutes. Don't cook yet. Just look at this recipe. Tell me what's lacking in it. Tell me how it can be improved to taste better~. Break it down."
Erina raised her hand, confused. "Shopkeeper Ren, this dish is a classic French interpretation of the Russian staple. It has been refined for decades. Why do we need to find its shortcomings? Isn't the classic perfect?"
Ren chuckled. "Good question, Erina. But don't forget one thing."
He leaned forward, his voice filling the room.
"All dishes are invented by people. Which means they have the potential for continuous improvement. Perfection is a destination, not a checkpoint. Just like who would have thought that adding different ingredients to a simple egg fried rice could create entirely new worlds of flavor?"
He tapped the board.
"You don't have to find the 'correct' answer. There isn't one. You just need to try your best to imagine. Imagine the ingredients. Imagine the heat. Imagine the entire process of making this dish in your mind, and then overturn it yourself. Destroy the recipe and rebuild it."
He smiled gently. "If you can't imagine it, that's fine too~. But then you will only ever be a cook, not a chef."
Everyone fell into deep thought as they looked at this classic dish. The pressure in the room spiked. This wasn't just a cooking class; it was a philosophy lesson.
In the back corner, Lucifer whispered to Cerberus, "He looks kind of cool when he's bossy, doesn't he?"
Cerberus drooled. "I just want the soup."
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