Foody Wars

These weren't just words.

Azami's presence had dropped into Erina's restaurant like a stone in a calm lake—rippling outward in shockwaves of fear, fury, and disbelief.

A hush had fallen after Azami's cruel dismissal of the guests.

But not for long.

Bang!

A furious diner slammed the table, the crisp ring of fine china rattling across the wooden surface. The man stood, his face contorted with rage.

"What the hell did you just say?!"

More voices rose in outrage.

"You barge into a private reservation-only venue, insult the chef and the guests—and now you're lecturing us on taste?!"

"Apologize. Now."

"Do you even know who you're speaking to?"

"You think we're nobodies?"

"You've got a lot of nerve for a man with no appointment and no manners!"

From a corner table, the well-known food critic Shingo Ando stood up indignantly. "You've got guts, I'll give you that."

Sitting beside him, the sharp-eyed and ever-composed Osaji merely adjusted his glasses, giving Azami a long, contemplative look. He smirked faintly, as if seeing a familiar ghost from the past.

Azami didn't respond.

His stillness only infuriated Shingo further.

"You gonna act like that and then pretend you're deaf now?!" Shingo marched toward him. "If you've got something to say, say it. Otherwise, you'd better—"

He stopped.

Finally close enough to get a good look at Azami's face.

"Wait a second…"

"You… look familiar."

Osaji spoke up, voice calm and razor-sharp:

"That's Azami Nakiri. Erina-sama's father. Son-in-law of Director Senzaemon."

Shingo froze.

"Wha… What?"

Gasps echoed across the room.

Erina's father?

The room fell into stunned silence.

All the bluster evaporated.

Even Shingo, full of righteous anger just moments ago, suddenly went pale. He stumbled back a step as if hit with a bucket of ice water.

Erina's Collapse

In the kitchen doorway, Erina Nakiri trembled violently.

Her knees buckled slightly, and she gripped the counter behind her for support.

Every part of her body felt like it had gone numb. Her hands and feet were cold. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. The world blurred at the edges.

Not him. Not him. Not now.

Why was he here?

Why now, when she had finally begun to move forward?

Hisako rushed to her side, noticing her pallor.

"Miss Erina—are you alright?! Are you feeling faint?!"

But it was more than physical.

This wasn't dizziness.

This was terror.

Hisako's eyes widened in realization. This was the same Erina who could bring judges to their knees with a glare. And now… she was crumbling.

What had this man done to her?

The answer seemed to hang in the air—an unspoken weight everyone could feel but couldn't name.

The Guests React

From the far end of the room, a young woman with brilliant makeup and stylish curls tossed her fork onto her plate in annoyance.

"Hmph! What a joke," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Shingo Ando, weren't you just barking like a stray mutt? Where'd all that backbone go?"

It was the ever-vibrant Natsume Haubi, executive of Haubi Foods and self-proclaimed Curry Queen.

Her younger sister, Orie, gave her a thumbs-up from across the table. "Well said, sis."

Natsume's eyes narrowed. "And as for you— barging in here, interrupting our meal? You're lacking in every sense—taste, decorum, and clearly, class."

Azami finally responded.

His tone was smooth, almost conversational.

"Ah, you must be Natsume and Orie of the Haubi Group. Forgive me, but tell me—has your fast-food curry advanced past fooling toddlers yet?"

Natsume's jaw dropped.

"From what I've heard, Haubi Foods hasn't been doing so well in America," Azami added, sipping water.

"You bastard!"

Natsume shot to her feet, face burning red with humiliation and rage. "We're official partners of Totsuki! That's right—official sponsors! To insult us is to insult the academy itself!"

But Orie put a hand on her sister's shoulder. "Calm down. Manners, sister. Manners are a chef's greatest virtue."

Azami gave them a smile that chilled the blood.

"Then allow me to demonstrate true virtue—by purging this academy of everything that stains it."

The entire restaurant was in chaos.

Some guests whispered in fear.

Some glared in protest.

And some—like Osaji—watched with amused calculation, already planning how to profit from the storm Azami had brought.

But Erina stood paralyzed.

Hisako clenched her fists. "This… This is too much."

Azami's gaze swept across the room. Cold. Clinical. Judging.

"This is what Totsuki has become? Collaborating with soulless food conglomerates? Fast-food curry? This school has fallen."

He turned back to Erina.

"Ten years ago, I began teaching you about cuisine. Now… you will show me how far your God Tongue has come."

He stepped toward her.

Erina shrank back, like a child caught in a nightmare she couldn't escape.

No. Not again. Not him. Not this voice.

Her heart screamed.

Her legs refused to move.

The walls were closing in, and the floor seemed to disappear beneath her.

I want to run. But I can't.

Hisako's Stand

"Enough!" Hisako cried, stepping forward.

"I-I said—this is a reservation-only venue! Even if you are her… father… you have no right to barge in like this!"

Her voice cracked, but she forced herself to stand tall.

"You're disrupting the customers, and we have the right to refuse service!"

Azami turned to her, almost surprised. Then, smiling with condescension, he said:

"Hisako, isn't it? You've grown up."

"I appreciate the care you've shown my daughter over the years. But it is no longer needed."

"You're fired."

Silence fell again.

Hisako's lips parted in shock. "F… Fired…?"

"Yes. You are no longer Erina's secretary. From now on, I'll oversee her well-being myself."

He pulled out a chair at the center table.

It was the table Erina had decorated with elegant French linens and personalized place settings—prepared for someone special.

Now Azami sat there, uninvited.

"Let's begin with kaiseki," he said softly. "I'm hungry."

Erina wanted to scream.

But her voice had vanished.

A Light in the Darkness

Just as the despair reached its breaking point—

Vroom!

The sound of multiple engines roared outside.

A dozen black sedans rolled up in formation, headlights piercing the night.

Doors opened.

Out stepped an army of black-suited bodyguards… and then—

Director Senzaemon Nakiri.

The room turned to ice.

Even Azami stood and walked out to meet him.

"Ah," he said with mock formality. "I was going to pay you a visit, Father. But how gracious of you to come to me."

Erina followed behind, eyes still glassy.

"Grandfather…"

Senzaemon did not smile.

"You are not welcome here," he said, his voice thunderous. "I told you long ago—you are no longer a Nakiri. You are expelled from Totsuki."

Shingo Ando, emboldened, added, "The Director is here. Now you'll get thrown out properly."

But Azami chuckled.

He pulled a document from inside his coat.

"The will of the Director is important," he said. "But so is the will of the Elite Ten."

And then he laid it on the table.

A stamped, signed, official notice from the Elite Ten Council.

Everyone leaned in.

Senzaemon's eyes narrowed.

He read the document once. Then again. Then again.

His expression darkened with each line.

"This… this is… a recommendation for a new Director?!"

The list of signatories followed:

9th Seat: Etsuya Eizan

6th Seat: Nene Kinokuni

5th Seat: Somei Saito

4th Seat: Momo Akanegakubo

2nd Seat: Rindō Kobayashi

1st Seat: Eishi Tsukasa

Six votes.

A majority.

It was official.

Azami Nakiri had the numbers to take over.

Senzaemon's hands tightened around the paper.

"The Elite Ten… defected?" he whispered.

The air turned suffocating.

Erina could barely breathe.

Hisako looked like she had been struck.

And Azami stood there smiling, his eyes glinting like knives.

And thus, it began.

The soul of Totsuki was no longer in the hands of its students…

But in the grip of a tyrant cloaked in elegance.