Right now, I was participating in the Food King Tournament, and I had already finished bubble milk tea. Once I submitted it, I could sit down and rest.
"The next challenger has arrived—a handsome man overflowing with confidence."
I had just reached for the tray when I heard the host announce the next contestant, so I set it back down and waited.
Then the guy on my right... disappeared. Where did he go? Oh, he was already up front. So he was the next challenger.
But handsome? He did look pretty young, but with that slightly chubby, greasy appearance... well... his hair was pretty flowy, at least.
"Please introduce yourself to our honored judges."
The greasy pretty-boy accepted the microphone and began speaking.
"Greetings, esteemed judges. My name is Abelre, and I am a bartender. My drink is called Happiness of Love, a cocktail made with whiskey, rice wine, apple juice, and pineapple juice."
"Oh, so it's alcohol. Will this drink let people experience love?"
The host recovered his normal tone quickly, but that first line—"Oh, so it's alcohol". Why carried a hint of surprise? Alcohol is a beverage, not food.
The greasy pretty-boy answered the host's question.
"Of course. This drink was inspired by my experiences with romance."
"I see. What do our judges think?"
"This cocktail makes me think, so this is what love tastes like? It feels intoxicating, like something you could lose yourself in."
The young viscount sounded very satisfied.
"It's delicious. The sweetness is balanced with a slight tartness. A perfect drink to enjoy with one's partner."
The duke still kept his comments short and focused purely on flavor, unlike the duchess.
"The two liquors with vastly different alcohol strengths represent a man and a woman. Their relationship is expressed through the sweetness of the apple, which conveys happiness, while the pineapple's tartness tells of the little conflicts within love. Wonderful."
The duchess was way too good at describing things. Was this really her first time serving as a judge? She sounded completely experienced.
Next was Queen Ainasse.
"This cocktail is excellent. I like it very much. However, autumn is approaching soon. Why did you add ice?"
That was right. Dilibrash had four seasons, and it was currently summer. Since this world was a parallel world similar to Earth, this place must be in the southern hemisphere.
The seasons between the northern and southern hemispheres were opposite. January was winter in the north, but summer in the south.
Today was February 15th. Autumn would begin in March, though it still wasn't cold enough for thick clothes yet. The weather was simply becoming cooler.
To me, though, it felt refreshing. The capital of Amebisalon was in the tropics, where it was basically summer all year round. This was my first time experiencing sunlight that didn't feel hot.
"Your Majesty," the greasy pretty-boy replied, "alcohol warms the body, but since it hasn't officially become autumn yet, the weather can still feel stuffy at times. The ice helps cool things down slightly."
He actually made a good point. Though honestly, alcohol just felt better cold.
"Very good. I can clearly feel the intention behind it."
"I am deeply honored."
Queen Elnaser seemed to like it a lot, but that alone didn't make him a contender for victory. To qualify for that, he needed the general's approval.
And the general never spoke unless the host specifically asked him.
"Thank you to our judges for their evaluations. Mr. Abelre, you may step down now."
"Huh?"
The general hadn't given his opinion yet. Why did the host skip him? That shouldn't have happened.
But strangely enough, the audience didn't sound confused at all. Why?
"W-Wait a moment. General, you haven't given your evaluation yet."
The greasy pretty-boy voiced the same confusion, and only then did murmurs start spreading through the audience.
This was weird.
At that moment, the contestant in front of me, who had already submitted his drink and was cleaning up his station, muttered—
"It's over. That idiot just dug his own grave."
Dug his own grave? What did that mean? Why wasn't he supposed to ask for the general's opinion? Was there some unspoken rule?
Completely confused, I called out to the contestant in front of me directly.
"Excuse me, the guy in front."
The man turned around when he heard me. Worried he might not realize I was talking to him, I waved him over.
He pointed at himself.
"Me?"
"Yes. What did you mean earlier by 'dug his own grave'?"
After hearing my question, the man set down the bag in his hands and walked over to my side of the cooking station, speaking to me across the counter.
"You're a foreigner, right?"
"Yes."
"Then it makes sense you wouldn't know this. General Arakeya doesn't drink alcohol. The only kind he accepts is alcohol used for cooking. Even children know that."
No wonder the host had skipped the general. Most people already knew he didn't drink.
Still, since the general was the founder of the Food King Tournament, couldn't he just ban alcohol entirely?
"Then why not prohibit it?"
"Because alcohol is popular. Even General Arakeya can't exactly ban something everyone enjoys."
If everyone liked it, then there wasn't much he could do.
The general was actually more reasonable than I expected. I had thought he was the authoritarian type, since his decision outweighed the other judges'. If he declared someone the winner, then that person won. No arguments.
Still, it couldn't be that nobody had ever won using alcohol before, right? People only entered alcoholic drinks because someone had succeeded with one in the past.
But if the general didn't even taste them, then how were winners decided?
"I heard the general is the one who truly decides the winner. If he doesn't taste the drink, how can he judge it?"
"If nobody submits a drink better than the alcohol entry, then the other judges make the decision. Originally, that guy could've become a finalist candidate. But the moment he questioned the host like that, he basically chose to eliminate himself."
So the greasy pretty-boy, despite being a local, didn't even know that?
Yeah, he definitely didn't deserve to win.
"I see. Thanks."
"No problem."
While we were talking, the greasy pretty-boy came walking back. Looks like the matter had been settled privately.
As he strode past us, he kept muttering angrily under his breath.
"What does some lowly host think he is?! How dare he talk to me like that! Once I win, I'll have him fired!"
"What a nasty temper. Must be from the north."
The guy in front of me muttered quietly.
That was a weird thing to say. Did temperament have something to do with regions? Were people from the south more mild-mannered or something?
Whatever.
There was nobody standing before the judges' table anymore, which meant it was finally my turn.
I picked up the tray and said to the guy in front of me,
"I'm going to submit my drink now."
"Alright."