Chapter 83
After hearing that the Emperor would be watching the final, I spent about a day soothing my stomach.
That didn't mean I stopped working.
My stomach hurting and my hands moving were two separate matters.
If anything, the bigger the situation became, the more I had to keep my hands moving.
Thinking things through in my head only made me more anxious, while doing something with my hands at least helped me endure.
So I called Chef Olgren and former Head Chef Albert Lanang in again.
After closing, I planned to hold one more meeting with the two of them.
The meeting place was a small parlor at Maison Montbel.
Elysia and Count Kleber were there too. The three chefs would set the judging criteria, while Elysia and Count Kleber had gathered to work out how to turn it into an event.
Albert spoke as soon as he sat down.
“Trying to judge all one hundred at once is foolish. We'll eat until our stomachs burst.”
I nodded immediately.
“So we need to divide them into rounds. Half of them should be eliminated in the first round.”
Chef Olgren asked calmly.
“Is it a one-on-one competition?”
“Yes. A hundred makes exactly fifty pairs. We give the same ingredients to two people and have them make one dish within a set time. The judges would taste both dishes, and the one chosen by at least two of them would advance. That would let us sort through them quickly.”
Albert tapped the table with his finger.
“We shouldn't give them an overly complicated challenge from the first round. Basic ingredients are good. Chicken, potatoes, onions, bread, things like that. We need to weed out people who use expensive ingredients to hide their shortcomings.”
“I agree.”
Chef Olgren nodded as well.
“The first round should reveal their fundamentals. Giving them the same ingredients lets us immediately compare knife work, heat control, seasoning, and overall composition. We should focus on those who can properly make an edible dish, rather than on flashy decorations.”
The two chefs would face off over the same ingredients.
The winner would advance to the next round, while the loser would start preparing to go home on the spot.
Simple, cruel, and good to watch.
Count Kleber's eyes lit up.
“Excellent. There'll be tension from the preliminaries onward. Fifty matches—there won't be a moment for the audience to get bored.”
“If we watch all fifty, the judges will die. Let's spread them out over about five days.”
“Can we make all five days a hit?”
Albert glared at Count Kleber.
“The judges' palates come before the show.”
Count Kleber bowed very politely.
“The show can only thrive if their palates do.”
That man could really turn anything into a business opportunity.
I began planning the next round.
“Let's make Round Two a team competition. We'll group the fifty who pass Round One into teams of five. Ten teams in all. Have each team put together a complete spread. Individual skill and the ability to function in a real kitchen aren't the same thing.”
Chef Olgren's expression grew serious.
“That's important. A head chef can't be just someone who can wield a knife well on their own. They have to know how to direct people.”
Albert seemed to like the idea as well.
“A team competition will reveal the bad-tempered ones. The ones who think only of their own cooking, steal other people's work, or look down on dishwashing. Those sorts won't last long in a kitchen.”
“In Round Two, we'll eliminate half the teams. If five of the ten advance, twenty-five contestants will remain.”
Count Kleber immediately cut in.
“Then the numbers don't work out.”
“That's why we'll add a last-chance round.”
I turned a page in my notebook.
“We'll bring seven contestants back from the eliminated. We'll hold a last-chance round for those who narrowly lost in Round One, those whose teams lost despite their strong individual ability, and those the judges want to see one more time. Add seven to twenty-five, and we get thirty-two.”
Count Kleber looked almost awestruck.
“Thirty-two. Nice and tidy.”
“From there, we'll go straight into a tournament: the Round of 32, the Round of 16, the quarterfinals, the semifinals, and the final. The final will be a best-of-three.”
Marie muttered beside me.
“This sounds more like a gladiatorial tournament than a cooking competition.”
“We're holding it in an amphitheater.”
“True.”
Albert snorted.
“I like the idea of a best-of-three final. It will separate people who are good at one dish from those who are truly strong.”
Chef Olgren agreed.
“The first match should test fundamentals, the second creativity, and if it goes to a third, they should make a signature dish they can stake their name on. A chef who reaches the final should be able to show three different faces.”
I immediately wrote down what he said.
Considering that the Emperor would be watching, the final match was especially important.
Whoever won would prove their cooking before the entire Empire.
My stomach burned slightly again.
I drank some water.
Elysia saw me and quietly slid another bottle of water over to me.
“Thank you.”
“Your health comes first.”
She was right.
Just then, Estelle came in.
She had gone home after closing earlier, but it looked as though she had come back to work.
As always, she was carrying her notebook, and her hair was slightly mussed.
But her eyes were shining much more brightly than usual.
“I heard about the cooking competition from the Magic Tower.”
I had an ominous feeling.
“How did you hear?”
“The Magic Tower hears many things.”
“That's ominous.”
Estelle didn't care in the slightest.
“The Magic Tower is currently considering ways to broadcast scenes from the amphitheater to major cities throughout the Empire. Video transmission is not yet stable, but we may be able to transmit audio and some still images, or scenes reflected in magic crystals, with a set time delay.”
The meeting room fell silent.
Count Kleber slowly raised his head.
“Broadcast it throughout the Empire?”
he asked.
Estelle nodded.
“It's still in the experimental stage. But after word spread that His Majesty would be watching the final, the Tower decided this event would be a good opportunity to publicly test magical communications technology.”
I pressed a hand to my forehead.
The broadcasting station from my previous life came to mind.
Cameras, lighting, scripts, reactions, editing—all of it came back.
This time, it was all done with magic instead.
“The judges are going to die.”
Albert put it very precisely.
I nodded.
“So what about the item I asked for?”
Only then did Estelle turn a page in her notebook.
“The alchemists have begun brewing the potion that removes lingering aftertastes from the mouth. It's being designed to wash away, to some extent, strong spices, fatty flavors, garlic aromas, lingering heat, and the sticky aftertaste of sweetness.”
Albert frowned.
“A potion that erases taste?”
“It's an auxiliary potion for resetting the palate between judging sessions. If it erased everything completely, it could dull the senses needed to detect the delicate aromas of the next dish, so we're adjusting it to reduce only the lingering flavors left on the surface of the mouth.”
Chef Olgren spoke with interest.
“If that's possible, it will help with judging. To taste a hundred dishes, water and bread alone won't be enough.”
“Yes. We'll provide it to the three judges first, and if necessary, we can also give small amounts to the contestants.”
I spoke immediately.
“We need to be careful with the contestants. If they drink too much before tasting their own dishes, their senses could be thrown off.”
Estelle wrote that down at once.
“We'll make the concentrations different for the judges and the contestants.”
Elysia calmly summarized everything.
“We need to redraw the schedule. If we add a broadcast, we'll need to plan the Magic Tower's movements, and we'll have to calculate how much potion to produce. Count Kleber, think about how to sell the broadcasting rights, but don't let that interfere with judging. Kyle, finish the score sheets and have Chef Olgren and former Head Chef Lanang review them.”
Albert looked at her.
“Lady Montbel, you already know how to manage people at such a young age.”
Elysia smiled slightly.
“I had to learn how if I was going to lead the household at my age.”
Albert seemed to like that answer.
By the end of the meeting, the structure of the competition was fairly clear in my notebook.
At first, a hundred contestants would stand facing one another.
Half would go home after losing a single match.
The fifty who survived would form teams, and half of them would be eliminated again in the team competition.
Once seven contestants returned through the last-chance round, thirty-two would face off in a tournament at the center of the amphitheater.
And the final two would prove everything with three dishes in front of the Emperor.
It sounded simple when put into words.
In reality, it was hell.
I closed my notebook.
Albert looked at me and said,
“Kyle Prat.”
“Yes.”
“At this scale, this isn't a game. If the judges waver, the contestants' futures will be upended.”
“I know.”
“Then that's enough.”
Chef Olgren also nodded quietly.
“This could be a fine competition. We'll have to work hard.”