A hush fell as the eight contestants moved from their stations toward the central stage, a field of flour sacks laid out before them like a baker's arsenal.
With so few of them left, the selection process was swift and silent, each cook a portrait of singular focus.
Most competitors moved with clear purpose toward the reliable, high-grade wheat flours, their choices safe and predictable.
But Ji Hoon's path diverged. His steps carried him unerringly toward the lone stack of pale pink sacks. He stopped before the Rosaline Flour.
The description from the Northern Gastrolchemy text surfaced in his mind with cold clarity. It was an ingredient shunned by all but the most desperate or arrogant.
The reasons were a list of failures: its finicky nature, its tendency to turn soapy and unpalatable with the slightest misstep, a death sentence for any dish.
But the text had ended with a tantalizing, almost mythical promise. If controlled—if—the final product held a property beyond mere flavor. The book claimed it could 'enchant a memory...'
That single, cryptic line decided it. His hand was already reaching for a sack when another hand moved to do the same.
His eyes lifted, meeting a gaze as cold and sharp as ice. Lucius Frost stood opposite him, his expression unreadable, his intent clear.
For a tense second, their hands hovered over the same bag, a silent battle of wills. The clerk overseeing the ingredients, anticipating the conflict, quickly intervened.
"Okay, guys, I'm on it. I'll make sure there's enough for both of you," he said, deftly pulling two sacks from the stack and handing one to each of them.
Without a word, Lucius took his flour and turned away. Ji Hoon did the same, hefting the strangely light sack. As he walked back to his station, he caught the looks from the other contestants.
There were no complaints this time, only a kind of resigned disbelief. They were used to the spectacle now, these two kids forever chasing the most dangerous ingredients, and they were all convinced this gamble would finally be their end.
When he arrived at his station, Lior and Yuliana saw the distinctive pink sack. Lior opened his mouth to speak, but Yuliana gave a slight, almost imperceptible shake of her head. It's hopeless, the gesture said.
Lior sighed, running a hand through his hair, the familiar mix of worry and exasperation on his face. They had learned they couldn't stop him.
Ji Hoon, confused by their silent exchange, had no time to question it.
Master Guy's voice boomed, reclaiming the arena.
[ Contestants! Now that you have chosen your weapons, we proceed to the second part of our drama! Your match-ups for this round! ]
A massive, shimmering bracket materialized in the Light Box. Ji Hoon's eyes scanned it instantly, finding his name in the second slot.
It read: Cassian Ahn vs. Helene.
A Royal Cook. A knot of worry tightened in his stomach. He knew this round was about intuition over flawless technique, which was her entire world.
But to beat her, even with that advantage, wouldn't be easy. And now he had to weave not one, but two of the most unpredictable ingredients into a single, coherent dish.
A part of him screamed to abandon the dark rum. But it was already registered. And the Rosaline Flour... that choice was final. He really needed to stop jumping at wild ingredients, he scolded himself.
As he desperately tried to picture a dish that could hold everything together, a movement caught his eye. Lior, usually a beacon of cheerful energy, looked uncharacteristically grim.
"What's wrong?" Ji Hoon asked.
Lior let out a low sigh, not taking his eyes off the judges' table. "We're at the mercy of the Cook Killer now."
"The Cook Killer?" Ji Hoon said, confused.
Lior just pointed a finger toward the judges' table. Ji Hoon's eyes followed, landing on the stoic, analytical face of the two judges, one of them being Master Marcus.
'Oh... isn't that...?' Ji Hoon thought, the memory of their brief encounter at Alister's restaurant flashing in his mind.
"Do you mean Master Marcus? He was the one who judged our duel with the Grace twins, isn't he?" Ji Hoon asked, happy to see a familiar face.
"No," Lior said, his smile gone. "Not him. Apparently he was there too, wasn't he?" He thought for a second, a new respect in his eyes. "To think someone like that judged our food..."
Yuliana, who had been listening, turned. "Do you guys know the Fourth-Rank Minister?"
"Not know," Ji Hoon corrected. "More like, the first time Lior and I met was during a cook duel, and Master Marcus was there to judge it."
"And we won!" Lior said, the grin returning. He threw an arm around Ji Hoon's neck in a playful headlock. "That, my friend, was the moment our comradery started."
Ji Hoon smiled, gently extracting himself. "Oh, I see," Yuliana said, sounding genuinely impressed they had earned a win under such a judge.
"Anyway, as I was saying," Lior continued, his tone sobering again. He pointed. "Not him. The one sitting next to him. You see her? That old but refined woman?"
Ji Hoon's gaze shifted to Mistress Albertine. He remembered Master Guy's introduction: the former Chief Royal Cook. "Yes, I see her," he said, his focus sharpening.
"Well, she wasn't just the Chief Royal Cook. She held the position for ten years straight. Even back in my hometown in the Sand City, we heard stories of her judging.
They say she sometimes tries to eliminate both competitors, claiming 'slightly better' isn't a good enough reason to advance. That's why they call her the Cook Killer.
She doesn't let anyone pass if she isn't satisfied. And it seems our fate is in her hands... Mistress Albertine Simonet."
That last name hit Ji Hoon like a physical blow.
Albertine Simonet.
A name from a famous book in his old world. A name tied to a memory, a feeling, a specific taste. It all crashed together in his mind—the theme of "Memories," the magical flour that could "enchant a memory," the dark rum.
His eyes widened slightly, glistening as the sheer, impossible idea took root. "Memories, huh...?" he mumbled, his voice distant. "Can I make...? No, I can't... but... maybe if I... well, do I have... enough time...?"
"Hey, brother, are you fine...?" Lior asked, exchanging a worried glance with Yuliana.
But Ji Hoon suddenly stopped. The frantic energy vanished, replaced by a calm, decisive clarity. He smiled. He looked up at the bracket; he was in the second group. He had one hour, tops.
A clerk approached, calling the first four contestants—Yuliana, Lior, Lucius, and Ixchel—to the stage. As his friends moved to face their daunting opponents, Ji Hoon wished them a quick "Good luck."
Then, as Master Guy's voice boomed, announcing the start of the first duel, Ji Hoon stood and walked purposefully to a different clerk. Eira, Master Albian, and Helene, waiting for their own round, watched him go.
"Excuse me," Ji Hoon said to the clerk. "Can I go to the prepping kitchen until my duel starts?"
The clerk was taken aback. "Well... there's no rule against it. But are you sure? If you're late by more than a minute, you'll be disqualified."
Ji Hoon gave a firm nod. The clerk reluctantly pointed the way.
With one last look at his friends beginning their battle, Ji Hoon turned and walked into the quiet, empty prep kitchen. He had an idea to test, and not a second to waste.
* * *
The prep kitchen was silent, a stark contrast to the roaring arena. Ji Hoon moved quickly, his footsteps echoing in the empty space.
He went straight to the storage, gathering what he needed: eggs, sugar, and the small sack of Rosaline Flour.
He scooped a portion of the pale pink flour into a bowl. Curiosity getting the better of him, he dipped his pinky finger in and touched it to his tongue.
"Hmm..." he made a thoughtful noise, his face tightening.
It was unmistakably soapy, with a bitter, astringent finish that clung to his palate. Just as the book had warned.
The cause was clear in his mind: saponins. The magical residue from the Rosaline rose woven into the wheat.
Saponins are natural chemical compounds found in many plants like quinoa, spinach, and roses. They are bitter-tasting surfactants—the base of soaps.
From the book he understood that The Rosaline Flour is milled from a magical wheat that grows intertwined with a specific rose the "Rosaline" rose.
This rose is rich in potent, magical saponins. If not handled correctly, these saponins are not broken down and dominate the flavor, making the dough taste like perfume and soap.
The solution was just as clear: Fat and Heat. He needed to drown those bitter compounds in rich fat and use high heat to break them down.
And he knew the perfect vessel for such a rescue mission—a dish defined by its high butter content.
His dark rum would be the key, infusing the fat with a depth that could stand up to the flour's strange magic.
Ji Hoon's eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. Fifty-five minutes left.
He rolled up his sleeves, the quiet focus of a scientist settling over him. The theory was solid. Now, it was time to see if it would work. He reached for a pan. It was time to make a test batch.