Waiting always feels long.
It is a universal truth. When you desire sothing, ti seems to stretch and distort. Seconds beco minutes; minutes beco hours.
This anticipation is particularly heavy when your senses are being teased. It feels like a newborn kitten scratching at the sole of your foot—not painful, but impossible to ignore.
Kojiro Shinomiya sat by the window, his fingers tapping a rhythmic beat on the polished wooden table.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Although his eyes held the arrogance of a man who had conquered the fierce culinary battlegrounds of Paris, and he was eager to see if this "Ren" lived up to the hype created by Gin Dojima and Joichiro Yukihira, he still understood the basic rules of dining.
First co, first served.
The girl with pink hair had arrived before him. She was the priority.
Just as Gasai Yuno was lost in thought, staring blankly at the kitchen curtains, a rich aroma pulled her back to reality.
It didn't just pull her; it yanked her.
It also made Shinomiya's eyes widen behind his wire-rimd glasses.
He stopped tapping. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring to analyze the scent profile.
"It's soup..." Shinomiya murmured. "Chicken stock. Ginseng. Jujubes. And... garlic?"
When Yuno heard this, she looked at the man in confusion, then turned her gaze to the kitchen door with intense anticipation.
The sll grew stronger. It wasn't just a sll; it was a physical presence filling the room. It was warm, dicinal yet savory, and incredibly comforting.
Finally, even the stoic "Magician of Legus" couldn't help but swallow audibly.
Then, the aroma suddenly disappeared—or rather, beca contained.
Ren erged from the kitchen, pushing a wooden dining cart.
On the cart sat a black clay pot.
Both Shinomiya and Yuno had only one word in their minds: Seal.
The clay pot looked calm and unassuming on the outside. But it felt heavy. It felt as if so delicious devil, sealed under its lid, was stirring and waiting to be unleashed.
Ren stopped the cart in front of Yuno.
"Thank you for waiting," Ren said softly.
He reached out and lifted the lid.
Whoosh.
The seal was broken.
A pillar of white, hot steam erupted from the pot, mushrooming into the air. It carried a concentrated blast of the aroma that had been teasing them for minutes.
Shinomiya leaned forward slightly in his chair, his chef's instincts taking over. That clarity... that steam... he's mastered the heat control.
"I thought about your request for cake," Ren explained to Yuno, placing the bubbling pot on a trivet in front of her. "But looking at your condition... you haven't eaten properly or rested well for a long ti. Your body is cold, and your spirit is weak."
He gestured to the soup.
"This Samgyetang (Ginseng Chicken Soup) should be the most suitable dish for you right now. It replenishes blood and vitality, calms the nerves, and nourishes the skin. It's healing food."
Ren smiled gently. "However, a whole ginseng root might be too potent for your empty stomach, so I've changed it to ginseng slices. Please enjoy it~"
[Akarin's Note: Samgyetang is a traditional Korean soup made with a whole young chicken filled with garlic, rice, jujube, and ginseng. It is famous for its restorative properties.]
After speaking, Ren bowed slightly and pushed the dining cart back towards the kitchen to prepare Shinomiya's order.
As he passed, Shinomiya called out.
"Hey. Shopkeeper."
Ren paused. "Yes?"
"Is this really just Samgyetang?" Shinomiya asked, his eyes narrowed critically. "Why does it sll so... balanced? Usually, the ginseng overpowers the chicken."
Ren looked back over his shoulder. "Because Samgyetang is naturally fragrant, isn't it? If the ingredients are treated with respect, they sing in harmony."
Shinomiya fell silent, processing the answer. Respect for ingredients... hmph. He sounds like Dojima.
At this mont, Gasai Yuno wasn't listening to their culinary debate.
She looked at the Samgyetang before her. Her pink eyes were full of pleasant surprise.
This feeling... it was like opening a Santa Claus gift on a snowy morning.
The Samgyetang did not use an old hen, but rather a Spring Chicken (Poussin). It was small, delicate, and fit perfectly in the pot. Although it looked small, the tenderness of its at was beyond doubt.
The whole chicken was subrged in a translucent, golden broth. It looked like it was taking a dicinal bath in a hot spring.
A few sprigs of erald green scallions lay quietly on top, accompanied by bright yellow shredded egg crepe (kinshi tamago). Red, inviting jujubes floated like jewels on the surface, along with white scallion rings. The pale ginseng slices encircled the chicken like a protective barrier.
It looked simple. Yet, it looked incredibly rich.
After more than two hours of slow simring, this dish could be described as a rebirth for the ingredients.
Yuno picked up her spoon. Her hand trembled slightly, not from fear this ti, but from hunger.
Drinking the soup is the first and most important step.
She scooped a spoonful of the broth. Small, glistening oil droplets danced on the surface.
She blew on it gently, then took a sip.
Warmth.
The mont the liquid touched her tongue, she understood why Ren had chosen this dish.
The savory richness of the chicken hit first, followed imdiately by the slight bitterness of the ginseng and the sweetness of the jujubes.
The warmth traveled from her throat down to her stomach, awakening her entire body. It felt like a gentle hand rubbing her back. Just a few spoonfuls, and she felt the chill in her bones lting away.
"It's... warm," she whispered.
She continued to eat.
Occasionally, her spoon brushed against the chicken. Whether it was a gentle graze or a bump, the chicken skin demonstrated its elasticity. It jiggled softly.
She scraped off a small piece of skin with her spoon, revealing the tender, white at beneath. It glistened with juice.
At this mont, there was only one thought in her mind: Put down the spoon and taste the protagonist.
She picked up her chopsticks.
The mont the tips touched the chicken leg, she gasped softly.
No effort was needed at all. The bone simply slid out. The at fell away from the bone as if it were eager to be eaten.
She took a piece of the shredded chicken. She dipped it lightly in the small dish of salt and pepper Ren had provided on the side.
She put it in her mouth.
Fresh.
That was the only word.
If you don't eat it, you might never know why chicken can be made so exquisitely fresh. It wasn't dry. It wasn't stringy. It dissolved on the tongue like butter, yet retained the distinct texture of at.
No matter how she dipped it, the taste was pure.
As she chewed, the broth that had been absorbed by the at for two full hours released itself, mixing with the natural oils of the skin.
It was impossible not to love.
But the magic of Samgyetang goes far beyond the at.
As Yuno dug deeper into the pot, breaking open the chicken's cavity, she discovered the true core of the dish.
Glutinous Rice.
It spilled out into the soup, white and pearly.
The sticky rice had been stuffed inside the chicken along with ginkgo nuts, garlic, and chestnuts before cooking. It had absorbed all the essence of the chicken, the ginseng, and the broth.
Yuno scooped up a spoonful of the rice-soup mixture.
It was creamy, savory, and sweet from the chestnuts.
Satisfaction. That was the feeling.
Yuno was like a machine that had finally been oiled. She scooped spoon after spoon, unable to stop. The warmth emanating from within felt as comfortable as soaking in a hot bath after walking in a blizzard.
If she found the taste too bland, she added a dab of the lettuce sauce. If she wanted a richer texture, she ate a piece of the sweet chestnut.
From start to finish, one word echoed in her mind: Refreshingly delicious.
Although the soup had oil spots, it never felt greasy. It felt cleansing.
Clink.
Her spoon hit the bottom of the empty clay pot.
Yuno blinked. She had eaten it all.
"Burp."
She covered her mouth instantly, her face flushing red. A small, unladylike burp had escaped.
But her complexion was no longer pale and ghostly. Her cheeks had color. Her eyes were bright. She looked like a living, breathing girl again.
She rubbed her flat abdon and exhaled a long, warm breath. She felt like a fully charged battery.
Shinomiya, sitting at the window table, had been staring at Yuno the entire ti.
Or rather, he was staring at the empty clay pot with intense professional curiosity.
She ate it all. Every drop. And her color improved visibly.
Shinomiya adjusted his glasses. This chef... he understands 'dicinal Cuisine' (Yakuzen) on a deep level. He diagnosed her and treated her with a single dish.
Yuno noticed the man's gaze, but she had no intention of acknowledging it. She was in a food coma.
Just then, Ren erged from the kitchen again.
This ti, he carried a rectangular white plate and a cocktail glass.
He walked to Shinomiya's table.
"Sorry for the wait," Ren said.
He placed the plate down.
It was the Vegetable Terrine (Terrine de Légus).
It was a vibrant mosaic of pressed vegetables—carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, asparagus—held together by a delicate consommé jelly. It sat in a pool of bright yellow saffron vinaigrette.
Next to it, he placed the Sweet Martini.
"The Confit de Canard still needs so ti to crisp the skin perfectly," Ren explained. "And the Napoleon cake is being assembled. So please enjoy your starter."
Shinomiya looked at the Terrine. He inspected the cut.
Sharp edges. Vivid colors. The jelly isn't cloudy.
He nodded slowly. "Acceptable visual."
Ren smiled and turned to check on Yuno.
Yuno quickly sat up straight, wiping her mouth with a napkin like a guilty child.
Ren looked at the clean clay pot and the pile of small bones.
"Hmm~ It seems you enjoyed it," Ren said warmly. "How do you feel?"
"Very good," Yuno admitted, her voice stronger. "I feel warm and tingly all over. Like I woke up from a long sleep."
Ren nodded. "That's the energy returning to your body. Your cake will take a mont longer. Do you mind waiting?"
"Not at all! I can wait!" Yuno chirped.
"Good."
Ren collected the empty tray and headed back towards the kitchen.
However, as he turned his back to Yuno, he felt a sudden chill.
For so reason, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
He felt as if he was being watched. Not by Shinomiya's critical gaze. But by sothing... heavier. Sothing intense. Sothing possessive.
The gaze felt physically hot, like a laser burning into his back.
What is this feeling? Ren thought, suppressing a shiver as he pushed through the kitchen curtains. It feels like I just walked into a target's crosshairs...
Behind him, Yuno stared at Ren's retreating back.
Her pink eyes were wide. Her pupils were dilated. A blush spread across her cheeks that had nothing to do with the soup.
Her hands gripped the tablecloth.
He saved . He fed . He understood .
He is... kind.
He is... mine?
[Akarin Note:
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