In this world, there is no shortage of great chefs.
With every generation, new culinary talents emerge.
Especially in today's fast-paced food industry, where expectations for food continue to rise. People crave refinement—better ingredients, advanced techniques, and unforgettable flavors.
Because of this, truly outstanding chefs hold great influence.
Yet, at the same time, there's another undeniable reality:
With the rise of fast food, chain restaurants have started establishing their own centralized kitchens.
Standardized recipes.
Uniform preparation.
Even the cooking styles and techniques have been streamlined for consistency.
And many chefs, tempted by convenience and profit, have abandoned creativity in favor of following these strict, mass-produced processes.
It's efficient. It's easy. But in doing so, individual chefs are losing their skills, their artistry, their identity.
Rindō Kobayashi understood this dilemma well.
This was a golden age for chefs—yet at the same time, one of the most uninspired eras in culinary history.
That was why, when she learned that Zane had once been the head chef of a five-star hotel, her admiration for him grew even stronger.
Because this proved something important:
Zane wasn't someone who sought fame or fortune.
He was a chef who truly loved cooking.
A chef who refused to be shackled by the constraints of the modern culinary world.
In that moment, Zane's figure seemed almost larger than life in her mind.
If only he knew what I'm thinking right now…
He'd probably find it hilarious.
The truth was, he hadn't left the five-star hotel because of some noble philosophy.
He just didn't want a boring, repetitive lifestyle.
That was it.
Now, he ran a small tavern, working from 7 PM to midnight. The rest of the day was his own, free to do as he pleased.
All that other stuff—his supposed disdain for modern cooking trends, his rejection of fame?
That was just Rindō overthinking things.
Time passed, and breakfast eventually came to an end.
The Thousand-Layer Pancake had left a deep impression on Rindō.
She was glad—so glad—that she had stayed and shared this meal. If she had left earlier, she might never have experienced this masterpiece of a dish.
Standing at the entrance of the tavern, she hesitated, reluctant to leave.
"Owner…" she finally spoke.
"I'm really grateful for your hospitality."
With that, she bowed deeply to Zane in gratitude.
Zane waved a hand dismissively.
"There's no need for that. I only made a pancake."
"Besides," he added with a smirk, "you've practically been a regular at my tavern these past few nights. We're not exactly strangers anymore."
Hearing this, Rindō blinked.
Zane's words carried a deeper meaning.
She realized that over these past days, they had indeed developed a subtle, almost unspoken bond.
It wasn't quite friendship. Not romance either.
But it was something.
A connection that couldn't be easily defined.
Zane glanced at her, noticing the faintest blush creeping up her face.
Interesting.
For someone so carefree and gluttonous, feelings like this were probably unfamiliar territory.
After all, in her world, what could possibly be more important than food?
Yet she didn't seem to realize that Zane had already conquered her appetite—and her heart might not be far behind.
"Owner…" Rindō muttered.
"If you keep talking like that, I… I might really start blushing again!"
Zane chuckled at her flustered reaction.
"Alright, alright, I'll stop."
Trying to compose herself, Rindō quickly changed the subject.
"A-Anyway, I won't bother you any longer!"
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away—perhaps a little too quickly.
If she stayed any longer, she was afraid her face might turn completely red.
Zane watched her go, letting out a long sigh.
"Finally," he muttered.
"My tavern is quiet again."
He turned, ready to head back inside—
But just then, he noticed someone standing nearby.
The owner of the Shunkatei Western restaurant next door.
Sonoka Kikuchi.
She was standing there, staring at him in a daze.
Zane raised an eyebrow.
"Oh! Good morning, Miss Sonoka," he greeted casually.
Sonoka Kikuchi—now she was an interesting one.
Before his tavern even opened, Shunkatei had already established itself as an elite Western restaurant.
It was completely different from his place in every way.
Fine dining. High prices. An exclusive clientele made up of society's upper crust—business executives, celebrities, and influential figures.
You wouldn't find office workers, students, or everyday people walking into Shunkatei.
Yet despite its extravagant pricing, business was booming.
And it was all thanks to Sonoka Kikuchi.
She had once been ranked Second Seat in Tōtsuki's Elite Ten, just like Rindō.
Her talent was undeniable. She had built Shunkatei from the ground up, turning it into a powerhouse of a restaurant.
Zane had always known about her.
But he had barely ever met her.
Their business hours were completely opposite—his tavern opened at 7 PM while Shunkatei closed at 6 PM.
So why was she here now?
"Um…" Sonoka fidgeted awkwardly.
"H-Hello…"
Then—before Zane could even respond—she suddenly took a step back, nodded hastily, and…
Ran away.
Zane blinked.
"…Huh?"
He watched as she disappeared down the street.
Then, rubbing his chin, he muttered,
"Strange."
"I mean, I am pretty handsome, but I don't think I'm that scary."
What the hell just happened?
With a shrug, he decided not to dwell on it.
It wasn't like he and Sonoka interacted much anyway.
And besides, he had a tavern to run.
So, shaking off his confusion, Zane stepped back inside—pushing aside whatever weirdness had just unfolded.