I was Thrown into an Unfamiliar Manga

"I figured you’d say ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) that, so I prepared in advance."

Having devoured an entire bowl with just the stir-fried pork and bean sprouts, I took the second bowl of rice Fuma-senpai handed over and moved on to the next dish.
This time, I was trying the seasoned bean sprout namul.
Seasoned with what looked like salt, soy sauce, and sesame oil, it gave off an incredibly savory aroma.

The crisp texture, the salty seasoning, and the nutty richness of the sesame oil formed a pleasant harmony.
After a bite of rice, I followed with the miso soup that had bean sprouts in it.
It was just a regular miso soup, but the added crunch of the sprouts gave it a different kind of appeal compared to your average version.

‘So far, these are all as expected.’
Tasty, but not extraordinary. Familiar flavors you could find anywhere.
Because bean sprouts are such a common ingredient, that might have worked against her.

‘Her final dish must be the bean sprout teppan-yaki.’
It was just lightly blanched bean sprouts stir-fried in the same special black sauce that gave the pork stir-fry its incredible flavor earlier.
Honestly, it felt too simple to even call a real “dish,” but the aroma that tickled my nose let me know loud and clear: this was the dark horse.

Gulp—
"I made a lot, so go ahead and eat as much as you want."
Fuma-senpai said that, presenting a mountain of bean sprouts coated in black sauce.

I said "Thank you for the meal" and grabbed a heap with my chopsticks, stuffing it into my mouth.
"……!"
Delicious.

I don’t know if I’m allowed to say this, but—it honestly tasted better than the meat.
The bean sprouts' signature crunch, the sweet and salty notes of the secret sauce, and the faint aroma of flame from the wok all came together flawlessly.
And unlike meat, which can become heavy and sit in your stomach after a while, bean sprouts didn’t leave that kind of fullness—they just kept going down, bite after bite.
Before I knew it, I had eaten almost a third of the massive pile of sprouts, and the Vice President and Minami, who had been watching nervously, finally tried it too.

"!!!"
Both of them immediately had expressions like they were witnessing a whole new world of bean sprouts. Then, as if possessed, they started scarfing it down.
Terrifying.

As the son of a restaurant owner, this was genuinely scary cooking.
To capture both flavor and cost-efficiency in one go…
Seeing us three judges react that way, Fuma-senpai puffed out her chest in triumph. Meanwhile, President Saionji bit her lip, clearly feeling the pressure.

But soon she regained her usual confidence, raised her signature black fan toward us—who had just finished sampling the bean sprout course—and shouted:
"Now it’s my turn!"
***

Following Fuma-senpai’s unexpectedly powerful full-course of bean sprouts, President Saionji brought out a four-person hot pot.
Naturally, there was no way a solo-dwelling person like Fuma-senpai would own such a large pot—everything had been purchased at the market on the spot.
Compared to Fuma-senpai, who didn’t even spend 2000 yen total for her dish, President Saionji was already blowing the budget from the very beginning—with the hot pot (2000 yen) and the portable induction cooktop (10000 yen).

But that was just the start.
The broth, made from 5000 yen worth of bonito flakes, shiitake mushrooms, kelp, and anchovy powder. The organically grown vegetables and mushrooms, premium tofu and fried tofu—another 3000 yen.
And finally, 900 grams of A5-grade wagyu sirloin for shabu-shabu, 13000 yen (not including tax).

To prepare this one pot of shabu-shabu, about 33000 yen had melted away.
That’s a steep price for just one meal—but unfortunately, President Saionji was born into wealth and had no real concept of such things.
"You start with the vegetables and mushrooms, then tofu and fried tofu, and finish with the beef. End it with rice porridge or udon."

As she explained, she handed each of us a plate.
Fuma-senpai gulped at the sight of the bright pink beef but didn’t take a plate, perhaps out of pride. She probably planned to eat after judging.
Following the President’s instructions, we began eating the shabu-shabu.

Shabu-shabu and nabe are similar dishes.
You put vegetables and other ingredients into hot broth, fish them out, and finish the meal with porridge or noodles—it’s the same structure.
However, while nabe often uses pre-seasoned meats, shabu-shabu is all about the pure, original flavor of each ingredient.

I started with the broth.
"Khh…"
A sigh escaped me involuntarily.

Even without any MSG, the taste was intensely savory—thanks to the high-quality ingredients.
Next, I tried a bite of oyster mushroom soaked in the warm broth.
"Huff, huff."

The chewy texture, unlike meat, whetted my appetite even more.
Then came the vegetables and tofu.
The vegetables had turned soft and mushy, and the tofu crumbled the moment I touched it with my chopsticks. You had to bring the bowl straight to your lips to eat it.

As I slurped it down with the warm broth, the natural sweetness of the vegetables and the rich flavor of the soy-based tofu spread throughout my mouth.
Next was the fried tofu.
Japanese fried tofu is much sweeter than the Korean kind.

The first time I tried it, I was honestly shocked—but I’ve gotten used to it now.
I took a bite of the sweet fried tofu that paired perfectly with the clean broth.
Made from the same soybeans as the tofu, and yet completely different in taste and texture—that’s the charm of fried tofu.

"And now… the main event makes its entrance."
The Vice President murmured, and Minami, still busy devouring shabu-shabu, nodded enthusiastically.
A++-grade wagyu sirloin. The kind of thing you almost never get to eat at home.

Sliced to the perfect not-too-thin, not-too-thick thickness, the beef was gently dropped into the broth.
One second, two seconds, three seconds.
Counting silently, I fished it out just before it was fully cooked.

Huff—huff—
Steam billowed off the meat. I wrapped it with the softened napa cabbage and garland chrysanthemum, dipped it in soy sauce, and took a big bite.
‘…It’s incredible.’

Is this… the taste of capitalism?
The broth made with only the best ingredients, the finest vegetables, and now the best meat.
The rich flavor of wagyu spread through my entire mouth, leaving me unable to think straight.

I hadn’t realized beef could taste this different.
Every beef I’d had until now must’ve been knock-off beef in comparison.
As I mindlessly kept dipping slices of wagyu into the broth, I started to feel full. That’s when we added udon noodles to finish the meal.

President Saionji’s shabu-shabu wasn’t just a meal—it was a perfectly complete course, in a totally different way from Fuma-senpai’s.
You could experience beginning to end—all in one pot.
That was the true charm of shabu-shabu.

Anyway, having tasted both dishes, all that remained was the verdict.
I looked at the Vice President and Minami.
Both seemed to have made up their minds.

And so, we delivered the results to the two who were nervously awaiting judgment.
"The winner we’ve chosen is…"
***

"Kgh! I’m so frustrated! I can’t believe bean sprouts tasted that good!"
"Aah… it’s been a while since I’ve had beef that delicious."
After the final decision, the two of them sampled each other’s food and gave their evaluations.

The three of us—already having eaten our fill under the guise of judging—just sat back and watched them quietly enjoy their dinner together.
"I’ll work on improving my feminine skills and definitely win next time!"
"Huhu, you’d better bring your A-game, President."

The winner of the cooking showdown, as decided by me, the Vice President, and Minami, was Fuma-senpai.
To be fair, the President’s food wasn’t bad—but the deciding factor was the bean sprout teppan-yaki.
First of all, the value was overwhelming.

Compared to President Saionji’s shabu-shabu, which cost nearly ten times as much even excluding the hot pot and induction cooktop, Fuma-senpai’s dish only needed a bag of bean sprouts and a bit of special sauce.
And those bean sprouts were too good.
The fact that a 100-yen vegetable tasted better than meat—that alone meant the game was already over.

As someone who eats a lot, cost-effectiveness is a serious concern for me.
Anyway, thanks to the competition between the two of them, I got to enjoy an unexpectedly delicious dinner—and not wanting to overstay our welcome, we decided it was time to go.
Fuma-senpai made one last awkward attempt to tempt me, saying, "If you change your mind, let me know anytime, Kim Yu-seong." But thanks to President Saionji’s interference, I managed to dodge it without issue.

On the way home.
Since we were headed in the same direction, I hitched a ride in the President’s limo and asked her:
"Come to think of it, how do you know Fuma-senpai?"

President Saionji answered with a still-sulking expression.
"She’s been in the same class as me since first year. We’re not really close, but we’d at least say hello. Not anymore, though."
So that’s how it is.

Today was the day I learned something new about President Saionji’s very narrow social circle.
And the leftover ingredients were happily finished off by the staff… I mean, by Fuma-senpai.