The sixteen contestants stood under the dome's brilliant lights. Ji Hoon scanned the thinner crowds and the Light Box, where Master Guy's face beamed down at them.
[ The second round is upon us! ] his voice boomed. [ But first, let us welcome the discerning palates who will decide our champions' fates! ]
He began to name the judges. Eight figures, each radiating an air of severe expertise, took their seats at the judging tables.
[ Now, ] Master Guy continued, his tone shifting to a more serious note, [ the theme of this round. What we are looking for today is… Control! ]
Ji Hoon's focus sharpened. He could feel the other contestants doing the same.
[ That's right! We will judge you on your mastery over your craft. And what better way to test a baker's precision and control than… ]
He paused, letting the silence build. With a low rumble, the center of the stage opened. A platform rose through a screen of smoke, displaying several jars of a frothing, bubbling substance.
[ …than a Yeast! ]
A wave of murmurs swept through the arena. Ji Hoon's eyes widened. "A yeast?" he muttered under his breath.
[ You might ask, 'A yeast?' Yes! ] Master Guy affirmed. [ We all bake, but a true cook commands their dough.
Your task is to create a perfectly leavened pastry—light, airy, and perfectly puffed. You may use any ingredient from the pantries, but you must prove your skill with one of these. ]
He gestured to the display. [ We have provided everything from standard Grade B yeasts to the rarest in Valeria—the Grade A. But before you choose… ]
The Light Box flickered, shifting to display a tournament bracket.
[ …remember, this is a knockout! You don't just cook for a score; you cook to defeat the opponent across from you. Now, behold your matchups! ]
Ji Hoon's eyes scanned the list of names. He found his own in the second bracket. His gaze tracked the line to his opponent.
Cassian versus… Hans.
"Hans...?" Ji Hoon murmured, the name meaning nothing to him. Before he could ponder it further, Master Guy's voice rang out, instructing the contestants to come forward one by one to choose their yeast.
As the line shuffled forward, the MC elaborated on the choices. [ We have a spectrum of yeasts for you today! From the reliable Grade B Brewer's Dregs to the fickle, wild Grade A... Shell-Boar Yeast! ]
A murmur, mixed with laughter, rippled from the judges' table and the more knowledgeable critics in the audience.
"Only a fool would gamble with that one today," a judge's voice carried just enough to be heard. "Unstable. A recipe for a sour, collapsed mess."
Ji Hoon listened, his mind agreeing. 'Play it safe. A solid, reliable yeast is the smart choice.'
When his turn came, he walked towards the display, his eyes scanning the safer options. But then, his gaze drifted upward, instinctively searching the stands. He found them—Beatrice and Haide, waving frantically from their seats.
Beatrice gave him two enthusiastic thumbs-up. A genuine smile broke through his concentration. Their unwavering faith cut through his caution.
'I didn't play it safe with the Sea Sugar,' he thought, a spark of his old daring rekindling. 'Why start now?'
He bypassed the safer yeasts and stepped into the Grade A section. His eyes landed on a small, open box containing a coarse, brownish powder. The label read: Shell-Boar Yeast.
His memory flashed to the book from the library called Northern Gastrolchemy. It described a rare, boar-like creature whose stone-hard shell regrew annually.
A unique, hyper-active yeast grew in the porous space between the old shell and the new, a symbiotic organism that allowed the creature to digest the minerals it consumed. Harvesting it was difficult, and controlling it in baking was legendary for its difficulty.
He was captivated. Just as he reached for one of the small ceramic cups of the powder, another hand—pale and slender—reached for it at the exact same moment.
Ji Hoon looked up. His eyes met a pair of cold, light blue ones, as frosty and unreadable as a glacial lake.
It was Lucius Frost, his light blue hair seeming to radiate a chill. Neither of them moved their hand, a silent battle of wills unfolding over a cup of yeast. The air around them grew tense.
"Gentlemen," the attendant at the table interjected smoothly, breaking the standoff. "A single cup contains more than enough for your needs. I can divide it. There is no need for conflict."
With practiced ease, the attendant poured half of the powder into a second cup. Lucius took his without a word, his expression never changing. Ji Hoon took the other, their eyes locking for a final, charged moment before Lucius turned and walked away.
A wave of surprised chatter spread through the remaining contestants. "They actually took it?" "That noble boy has a death wish, and the northern prodigy is just arrogant."
Returning to his station, Lior was staring at him, mouth agape. "Brother, you are a certified daredevil! Do you even know how to use that?"
"I read about it," Ji Hoon said, inspecting the potent powder. "I'm interested to see how it works."
His three teammates stared at him in stunned silence. Taking such a massive risk on an unknown, volatile ingredient in a knockout round was either the height of confidence or sheer madness.
Shaking off their surprise, Ji Hoon asked, "Are any of you up in the first bracket?"
Lior shook his head. "I'm in the second, like you."
"I am in the first," Yuliana stated, her voice calm but resolute.
"M-me too," Ansen added, his voice barely a whisper.
"Then do a good job out there," Ji Hoon said, and Lior clapped Ansen encouragingly on the back.
Master Guy's voice boomed, [ Will the first bracket of competitors please step forward to their stations! ]
As Yuliana and Ansen moved away with six other cooks, the crowd's cheer swelled to fill the dome. The first duels were about to begin, and the battle for a spot in the top eight was officially on.
The crowd's roar swelled as the eight cooks took their places at the gleaming stations, the arena now transformed into a battlefield of four simultaneous duels.
Ji-Hoon and Lior found seats in the contestants' waiting area, the remaining eight competitors for the second bracket settling around them with a shared, nervous energy. On the massive Light Box, the bracket was displayed beside a giant countdown timer.
[ Contestants, you have one hour! ] Master Guy declared, his voice echoing. [ One hour to create a perfectly leavened pastry that demonstrates absolute control. Your time... starts... NOW! ]
The timer began its relentless descent from 1:00:00. A unified surge of motion erupted from the eight stations.
Ji-Hoon's eyes, sharpened by a lifetime in kitchens, instantly began to analyze the competition.
Yuliana vs. Isaac Grace. Isaac, one of the twins Ji-Hoon had humiliated, moved with a aggressive, almost angry precision, his large hands working the dough like it was an enemy.
Yuliana, in stark contrast, was a study in calm focus. Her movements were economical and fluid, her expression stern and unwavering as she measured her ingredients.
Seeing that stern face, Ji-Hoon was suddenly thrown back to the moonlit garden, to the sound of her unfiltered laugh. The contrast was so jarring it felt like two different people.
Malak Grace vs. The Chief Royal Cook, Albian. This was a clash of titans. Albian, the reigning champion, worked with the effortless, practiced grace of a master, his every motion a lesson in efficiency. Malak, perhaps seeking to redeem his family's name, mirrored that precision but with a raw, powerful intensity, his biceps straining as he kneaded.
Ansen vs. Royal Cook Helene. The shy boy was predictably nervous, his hands trembling slightly as he poured flour. Across from him, Helene, the composed professional from the palace, worked with a cool, dismissive confidence, barely glancing at her flustered opponent.
Lucius Frost vs. Royal Cook Tobias. This was where Ji-Hoon's gaze finally stuck, pulled in by an almost gravitational force.
Lucius wasn't just cooking; he was conducting a silent, flawless symphony. His hands moved with a preternatural, fluid grace—no wasted motion, no hesitation.
He wasn't kneading the dough; he was guiding it, folding it with the sharp, precise angles of an origami master. The temperature around his station seemed to drop, a bubble of cold, calculated perfection.
"Whoa..." Lior gasped beside him, his voice full of awe. "Look at him move."
Ji-Hoon didn't need to ask who he meant. He was already watching, a cold knot tightening in his own stomach. This was beyond skill; this was artistry of the highest caliber.
The technique, the control, the utter confidence—it was terrifying. 'If this guy was in my world,' Ji-Hoon thought, the realization hitting him with the force of a physical blow, 'he wouldn't just get a Michelin star. He'd be a global sensation, a chef other chefs would travel across the world just to watch.'
The comfortable confidence he'd carried, the belief that his novel ideas from another world would guarantee victory, shattered. Simply introducing a new dish like cinnamon rolls wouldn't be enough. Not against that.
He was in a real competition now. To win, he wouldn't just need to make a new recipe anymore. He would need to be perfect. He needed to up his game in a way he hadn't yet imagined.