With the Commander-in-Chief Nakiri Senzaemon's praise—especially that highest seal of approval, the robe-burst—Terunori's dish was clearly a triumph.
Terunori himself stood ramrod straight, confidence peaking.
Wearing a victor's expression, he glanced toward Shun, who waited calmly at the back.
The audience boiled over with shouts.
"The robe burst! The Commander's robe actually burst—that's the power of the Elite Ten!"
"So strong! As expected of Terunori-senpai!"
"That level of recognition… it's the highest honor!"
"This is in the bag! A guaranteed win!"
The Polar Star Dorm crowd sank in unison, worry for Shun tightening their chests.
What the others didn't know—Erina included—was that Senzaemon's "robe-burst" just now had only cracked open his front a little. A true robe-burst… is far more than that.
Terunori's judging concluded, and he stepped aside, basking in cheers and adoring looks.
Now, all pressure and expectation converged on Shun—and on the lidded dish he still carried.
"Next is contestant Shun's dish!"
At Kawashima Rei's cue, Shun, face serene, carried his dish step by step to the judges' table.
No loud declarations like Terunori. No showy hype. He simply placed the lidded bowls before the three judges with composed grace.
Setting them down lightly, Shun said, "This is my Golden Phantasmal Mapo Tofu. Please enjoy."
No flashy turn of phrase, no bold self-promotion—just a transcendent calm that tugged at hearts more than any speech.
He lifted the lids in turn.
No volcanic blast of scent erupted. Instead, a warm, resplendent golden gleam spilled out first!
What lay in the bowls didn't feel like mere food—it resembled art, meticulously carved.
Golden tofu cubes shone like pure metal melting under a sunset, glimmering within a ruby-bright, living sauce. Emerald garlic shoots lay like early-spring leaves, while crisp-toasted soy mince dotted the surface like little jewels.
Most breathtaking of all was the tofu's own tender halo of gold, its glow harmonizing with the red oil's sheen—so beautiful it was hard to look away.
Beautiful. Simply beautiful.
Only then did the aroma quietly unfurl.
Not the aggressive charge of Terunori's dish, but a deep, mellow perfume with intricate layers.
At first came the rounded, gentle fermentation of the doubanjiang, braided with the nutty char of the toasted "mince." Then, a chorus of chilies presented their composite fragrance. Like a warm current, it layered forward in waves, punctuated by a rhythmic, articulate numbness woven from multiple varieties of huajiao.
At the very end: a pristine, aristocratic soymilk bouquet rising from the golden tofu itself.
The tofu's flavor—serving as the deepest, warmest undertone—enfolded and fused everything perfectly together.
This fragrance felt enchanted—not battering the senses, but wrapping and soaking into them.
"This aroma…!"
Lloyd-sensei's sweat hadn't dried; Terunori's domineering heat still lingered in his nerves. But as he breathed in Shun's fragrance, his face melted into a different, almost blissful intoxication.
The front rows didn't lean away this time—they leaned in, inhaling on instinct, wanting to take in as much of that singular perfume as possible.
At the judges' table, Erina reacted the strongest.
Her God Tongue began to thrum the moment she smelled it.
That familiar sensation—an ultimate aura that springs straight from ingredients themselves, beyond the ordinary.
It was what she had felt during the transfer-exam fried rice… and more. This fragrance outshone it—beyond words.
Senzaemon's pupils tightened, his gaze growing razor-keen, as if to pierce the golden tofu and see its very essence.
Off to the side, MC Kawashima Rei, seeing the three judges briefly entranced, reminded gently, "Judges, please begin tasting."
The three snapped back, lifted their spoons… and tasted.
Time seemed to freeze.
Their faces went still; eyes widened with naked disbelief.
"Mm—!"
Too delicious for words—only a sound, while inside their hearts shouted in rapture.
The tofu's texture was nothing like Terunori's.
At the instant the golden tofu touched the tongue, it was so exquisitely silken it felt ready to melt—yet it also possessed astounding spring. A light bite and—burst—pure bean fragrance and the essence of the sauce erupted at once.
This mouthfeel shattered all expectations of "tofu," outclassing even Terunori's jade-marrow tofu—finer, gentler, superior in every dimension. Crushing is the only word.
Yes—this was a down-tier strike from another gourmet world.
Then the flavor—
Unlike Terunori's or any mapo tofu—no domineering heat. Instead, it elevated the mouthfeel to the absolute limit—otherworldly.
The spice was rich and mellow, the numbness tiered and lingering.
Each note stood distinct—yet fused flawlessly—rising to a higher plane.
No harsh sting, not even a flicker of discomfort—only a stepwise ascent, an enthralling, irresistible journey.
As for the "sixth note," su—its crisp-crumble shone even brighter here.
Finally, most subversive of all, was the golden tofu's intrinsic savor—
A pristine, high-bred natural sweetness that not only harmonized the ma-la, but lifted the entire dish into a realm previously unseen, achieving a perfect union of taste, texture, and aroma.
"Ah—!"
Lloyd-sensei let out an unconscious moan.
Clatter!
His spoon slipped from his hand and hit the table. He didn't even notice—lost in flavor, a dazzled smile overtaking his face.
Erina, too—her body began to tremble, a deep flush blooming hotter than ever across her fair skin.
The delicacy of an otherworldly ingredient had satisfied the God Tongue—for the second time.
(End of Chapter)
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