Evening had settled over the newly opened Tavern, but inside, the atmosphere was far from quiet.
The place bustled with lively chatter, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. It wasn't just the food or the drinks that attracted such a crowd tonight—it was the presence of none other than Erina Nakiri, the proud and talented student from Totsuki Academy, now surprisingly working behind the counter as a part-time chef.
With a pristine apron wrapped around her waist and a focused glint in her eyes, Erina stood gracefully at the central cooking station. All eyes naturally gravitated toward her as she hovered over a freshly caught bluefin tuna.
When it comes to Japanese cuisine that stirs passion, tuna is undeniably one of the most beloved ingredients—its preparation a revered art form that reveals the heart of a chef.
Erina, as expected of the God Tongue, handled the blade with refined skill. She started by expertly lifting the fin, then sliced through the tuna's neck meat with delicate precision. Her movements were elegant yet decisive.
From the back, she cut out generous slabs of crimson meat, each slice whispering her mastery. Then she moved on to the belly, removing the coveted toro from the fish bones with a steady hand, the knife and fish aligned at a perfect 90-degree angle.
Her final cuts were swift and confident, yielding paper-thin slices that glistened like rubies under the warm lights.
She placed the knife down and turned, her gaze meeting Zane's.
"Well?" she asked quietly, lips curled ever so slightly with pride.
Zane looked at the immaculate cuts laid before him. Even he, a seasoned chef, couldn't hide his approval. "I admit—you've got talent."
"Well, of course! I've supervised major restaurants, you know." She gave a satisfied nod, but the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her delight at the praise.
Zane chuckled. "In that case, let's move on. Those octopus sausages won't shape themselves. Customers love them these days—cut as many as you can."
"Understood!" she responded promptly and returned to work, her attitude surprisingly humble.
To be honest, Zane had initially been worried. Given Erina's prideful personality and background, he'd expected tension or drama. But instead, she'd proven herself focused and cooperative, quickly adapting to the rhythm of Tavern life. Her presence eased the workload for both him and Sonoka, freeing them up to breathe between orders.
The Tavern wasn't just about food—it was about warmth, connection, and tradition. And nothing symbolized that better than alcohol.
In Japan, many people stay loyal to a single brewery or a specific type of drink for life. Some breweries had weathered centuries of change simply due to this loyalty. But Zane had a knack for balancing tradition and innovation.
Recently, he had added genmaicha to the menu.
A blend of roasted brown rice and green tea, genmaicha was simple yet refined. Despite the unglamorous name of "brown rice tea," its taste was anything but ordinary.
With a sip, the drink released a calming fragrance of tea leaves and toasty rice. It was mellow, layered, and deeply comforting—just the sort of warmth one needed after a long day.
At one quiet corner of the Tavern, Megumi Tadokoro savored a cup of this very tea. Its aroma lifted her spirits, grounding her gently in the moment.
As she slowly opened her eyes, her gaze fell on Erina, still diligently slicing sausages. Her eyes widened slightly.
"Miss Erina…?"
Though they had been classmates since middle school at Totsuki, the two had rarely spoken. One was a refined noblewoman of culinary royalty, and the other a timid girl from a fishing town in Ibaraki. Their worlds never quite overlapped.
"I never imagined I'd see her here. Working. In an apron."
Megumi turned her eyes back to her tea, letting out a soft sigh.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Erina asked, having overheard.
"N-Nothing!" Megumi flustered. "I just didn't expect you to be… cutting sausages."
"I'm working part-time here," Erina replied simply, eyes cool but not unkind.
"Part-time…?" Megumi looked utterly stunned. That someone like Erina—Nakiri Erina—would choose to work in a small Tavern like this? It felt surreal.
Trying to hide her awkwardness, Megumi took another sip of tea, and her thoughts slowly drifted to the past—her snowy hometown by the sea, the fishermen, the fish markets, the sight of monkfish being suspended and carved midair.
Her mother, ever patient, had once encouraged her to study the suspended cutting method. She learned it in bits and pieces from local fishermen, eventually mastering it after years of practice.
"I owe you so much, Zane," she said suddenly, her voice softer. "Shinomiya-senpai's exam almost made me cry. My lettuce was wilted. But I remembered the revival method you taught me—and somehow, I passed."
Zane smiled faintly. "I just gave a little advice. You're the one who improved the dish under pressure."
That quiet moment stretched between them. Once again, Zane realized how drastically he had changed the storyline. Megumi, like Ikumi before her, had blossomed into a different person with his influence.
"Still… I've grown because of you," she said. "That's why, when the training camp ended, you were the first person I wanted to thank. Well, after my mom and neighbors."
She laughed lightly. "I'm going back home in a few days. I'll bring something nice back as thanks."
"You're a good girl, Megumi," Zane replied. "Anyone would be lucky to have you."
"Z-Zane!" she blushed furiously. "Don't say things like that…"
Trying to redirect the topic, she quickly asked, "Do you know how to use the suspended cutting method on monkfish?"
"Of course," Zane said without hesitation. "Actually, I have a monkfish right here. Want to see?"
Her eyes lit up. "Seriously? Yes! Please show me!"
Even Sonoka, passing by with a tray, stopped mid-step. "Wait, the suspended cutting technique? You've got to show me that too!"
Soon, a large monkfish was brought out and suspended from a sturdy hook. The chatter in the Tavern quieted as the customers gathered around in fascination.
Monkfish—grotesque, slimy, lantern-like creatures—weren't commonly seen on display. But here it was, hanging by the mouth, ready to be filleted.
With practiced ease, Zane picked up his knife and approached.
Chop!
In a single swift motion, the fin was off. A wave of applause echoed through the room. Even Erina, stoic and proud, blinked in awe.
"The skin's the tricky part," Sonoka whispered. "Can he…?"
Zane made the next move, peeling the skin in one smooth motion—no tears, no pauses. Just fluid, confident movement. The exposed flesh glistened beneath the light, the monkfish now looking more like a delicacy than a deep-sea monster.
Step by step, he removed the gills, extracted the liver with surgical precision, and filleted the rest.
"Already done? That fast?" Erina muttered, wide-eyed.
"Zane!" Megumi stood up, fists clenched with excitement. "That was amazing! I've never seen suspended cutting done so flawlessly!"
She went on, flushed with admiration. "Especially the skin—you peeled it clean in one go! That takes years!"
Zane scratched his head. "Isn't it just cutting fish?"
"Zane, monkfish skin is slippery and every part is edible. It's not just cutting—it's art!" Megumi said, puffing her cheeks.
As if on cue, gurgle—her stomach growled loudly.
The room paused. Megumi's face went beet red.
"…Hungry?" Zane teased.
"J-Just a little," she admitted sheepishly.
"In that case," Zane said with a grin, "Let's turn this monkfish into something unforgettable."
"You're the best!" Megumi beamed.
And just like that, the Tavern came alive again—not just with customers, but with the quiet, comforting warmth of shared passion and the clinking rhythm of dreams being cooked into reality.