The four pairs of contestants from the second bracket moved forward, each carrying their creation to the judging tables.
Ji Hoon walked beside Hans, the heavy platter of his "Soured Cream Crowns" feeling like a shield in his hands. They placed their dishes side by side before the two judges at their assigned table.
The judges were a study in contrasts. On the left sat a severe-looking woman with her hair in a tight silver bun, her eyes sharp enough to measure a gram by sight—Master Kaelin, a veteran of the Imperial Baker's Guild.
On the right was a younger, portly man with a kind face but discerning eyes—Lord Bastian, a noble known for his legendary sweet tooth and vast culinary knowledge.
Their attention went to Hans first. His dish was a simple, braided loaf of white bread, perfectly golden and glossy. It was safe, competent, and utterly unremarkable.
Master Kaelin broke a piece off with a critical snap. She chewed, her expression neutral. "Adequate," she stated, her voice clipped.
"Good color, even crumb structure. The leavening is controlled, the flavor is... standard. It is exactly what one would expect from a well-trained cook. There are no faults, but there is also no soul or creativity." She set the piece down. "A solid, if uninspired, execution."
Hans's jaw tightened, but he bowed stiffly.
Then, both judges turned to Ji Hoon's dish.
Lord Bastian's bushy eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. "By the stars... what is that?"
Before them sat the "Soured Cream Crowns." The cluster of rolls was a work of art, each swirl a perfect spiral of dark cinnamon and airy, golden dough, all fused together into a single, glorious crown.
Draped over the top and dripping seductively down the sides was the cool, off-white cream cheese frosting, its surface subtly textured.
"It's... audacious," Master Kaelin admitted, though her tone was laced with skepticism. She leaned closer, her hawk-like eyes scanning the pastry.
"The structure is impressive. The leavening is... remarkably high. But," she said, her gaze sharpening as she looked directly at Ji Hoon, "you used the Shell-Boar Yeast, did you not?"
Lord Bastian's face fell. "Oh, dear. A pity. Such a beautiful creation, doomed by its core ingredient." He shook his head with genuine regret. "No one can control that beast. The acetic acid buildup would be catastrophic. It will look like a dream, my boy, but it will taste like a vinegar-soaked sponge. All this effort, for a sour, bitter end."
The criticism hung in the air. Hans allowed himself a small, smug smirk.
"Well, they do say appearances can be deceiving, my lords," Master Kaelin said, though she sounded like she didn't believe it herself. "Let us taste this... experiment."
With a small, silver fork, she carefully cut into one of the outer rolls. The tines slid through with a soft, airy tear, revealing a honeycombed interior of impossibly light, layered dough.
A wisp of warm, spiced steam escaped. She scooped up a bite, making sure to get a generous portion of the cool, creamy frosting with it.
Lord Bastian did the same, his expression still one of profound.
In unison, they brought the fork to their mouths.
~Munch-Munch~
For a single, suspended heartbeat, there was nothing. Then, the explosion began.
It was not a memory. It was a physical event.
Master Kaelin's stern eyes flew wide open. Lord Bastian made a sound that was half-gasp, half-moan, his portly frame going rigid.
The initial sensation was a cataclysm of temperature and texture. The cool, thick cream cheese icing hit their palates like the first, blissful frost of winter, rich and fatty, coating their mouths in a velvety blanket.
But beneath it, the perfectly leavened roll, still warm from the oven, was a sun-baked savanna.
The heat activated the cinnamon, sending a wave of spiced warmth that battled the frost in a delicious, swirling war.
Then came the spiral of flavors.
The creamy, greasy-sweet fat of the icing was the calm before the storm. It was the deceptive stillness in the eye of a hurricane.
Then, the inner core of the roll unleashed its secret. The sharp, unmistakable tang of acetic acid from the Shell-Boar Yeast pierced through, not as a failure, but as a brilliant, calculated strike.
It was not the taste of vinegar; it was the essence of a lightning bolt—clean, sharp, and electrifying.
This sour note did not clash with the dark, muscovado sweetness of the filling. Instead, it elevated it.
The sour cut through the fat of the icing, preventing it from becoming cloying, while simultaneously amplifying the deep, almost smoky sweetness of the cinnamon and sugar.
It was a balance so perfect, so audacious, it felt less like cooking and more like alchemy.
Their world dissolved. The grand hall, the murmuring crowd, the skeptical gaze they had shared moments before—it all vanished, replaced by a sensation of spiraling through a vortex of pure flavor.
They were tumbling through layers of sweet and sour, hot and cold, soft and sharp. It was a whirlwind where creamy clouds exploded into spiced sunlight, and every rotation brought a new, inexplicable harmony.
It was a world built entirely from the paradox in their mouths.
Lord Bastian was the first to break. "It's... it's a revolution," he whispered, his voice hoarse with awe. "You haven't masked the sour. You've weaponized it! You used it as a catalyst to make every other flavor... more!"
Master Kaelin, the unshakable veteran, slowly lowered her fork. Her hands, usually steady as stone, trembled slightly.
She looked at the half-eaten roll on her plate as if seeing the secrets of the universe baked into its layers.
"You... you understood it," she said, her voice low and utterly stunned. "You understood the soul of the ingredient. Everyone else sees the Shell-Boar Yeast as a rebellious beast to be tamed. You saw it as a wild stallion, and you had the genius not to break its spirit, but to ride it. This... this is not just control. This is a partnership."
She looked directly at Ji Hoon, her earlier skepticism burned away by the inferno of the tasting.
"You took a flaw and turned it into the cornerstone of mastery. The greasy richness of the icing, the heat of the perfect leavening, the sweet darkness of the cinnamon... all of it is held in perfect, breathtaking tension by that single, brilliant, sour note. It is a flavor I have never experienced, a balance I could not have imagined."
She picked up her scorecard, her movements deliberate. Lord Bastian did the same, his hand shaking with excitement.
In unison, they raised their placards.
10.
10.
A perfect score. 20 out of 20.
The announcement echoed through the hall, followed by a moment of stunned silence, and then, an eruption of applause and bewildered chatter.
From the contestant's waiting area, a pair of cold, blue eyes narrowed. Lucius, who had been observing the proceedings with detached amusement, now sat perfectly still.
His gaze was locked on Ji Hoon, no longer looking at a curious oddity, but at a genuine, and utterly unpredictable, threat. A slow, calculating smile finally touched his lips. The game had just become interesting.
* * *
The final eight stood on the grand stage of the Tholus Culinarius, bathed in the glow of the Light Box and the thunderous applause of the crowd.
The air itself seemed to vibrate with their collective potential, a tangible force of ambition and skill. They were the survivors, the elite culled from hundreds.
Master Guy's voice boomed, echoing the sentiment of every spectator. [ Look at them, ladies and gentlemen!
The finest culinary talents of a generation, forged in the fire of competition!
Each one, a mere three victories away from immortality, from claiming the title of Zhìzūn Dàshī and shaping the future of Valeria's culinary arts! ]
His hand swept dramatically across the line of eight. [ These are the names that will echo through this dome! Remember them! ]
[ From the Royal Kitchen, a master of timeless perfection—Chief Royal Cook, Albian! ] The stalwart champion nodded, his expression one of quiet, unshakable confidence.
[ And his protégé, a rising star of precision—Royal Cook, Helene! ] She offered a cool, composed bow.
[ From the mysterious North, a force of chilling, flawless artistry—Lucius Frost! ] Lucius stood unmoved, a statue of ice, his light blue eyes fixed on some distant, inevitable victory.
[ And his sister, a master of dense, complex flavors—Eira Frost! ] She mirrored her brother's stillness, a shadow of the same formidable intensity.
[A prodigy whose speed is matched only by his creativity—Ixchel! ] The purple-haired boy offered a quick, sharp grin, buzzing with restless energy.
[ The mysteries masked cook, who has proven her mettle among the best—Yuna! ] She held her head high, the princess hidden beneath the focus of a true competitor, though a small, private smile touched her lips as she glanced down the line.
[ And from the sands of Delivane, a young man whose passion burns as bright as his talent—Lior! ] Lior beamed, waving enthusiastically at the crowd, his joy infectious and genuine.
[ And finally, ] Master Guy's voice rose to a crescendo, [ the dark horse who continues to defy every expectation, a noble who speaks the language of ingredients as if born to it—Cassian Ahn! ]
Ji Hoon felt the weight of the announcement, the roar of the crowd a physical wave. He stood firm, his own heart hammering a rhythm of triumph and sharpening focus.
His eyes scanned the seven other figures beside him—rivals, allies, and enigmas. The path to the top was now clear, and lined with the most formidable opponents imaginable.
[ That is all for today's breathtaking round! ] Master Guy concluded, his voice resonating through the dome.
[ The field is set! The elite eight will return, their ovens cold no more, to battle for a place in the final four!
The stakes could not be higher! Do not miss a single moment of the culinary history about to be written! ]
With a final, dramatic gesture, the stage lights began to dim. The eight contestants turned, their silhouettes stark against the fading light, a tableau of destiny paused.
The second round was over. A storm of preparation, strategy, and fire awaited them all. The quest for the throne was only just beginning.