Chương 133: A Rival Stronger Than Ethan

Carrying that heavy envelope, Chris returned to Le Château. In the back, everything was as usual. Lunch service had just ended, and the cooks were cleaning and prepping at their stations, the clash of metal tools and the roar of the exhaust hoods weaving into a familiar symphony. When they saw Chris come back, every hand paused for a beat. Nathan, Philip, and the cooks who had once looked down on him, envied him, or merely watched him with curiosity — all of them turned their eyes his way.

"Well?" Nathan spoke first, his tone unreadable, though a barely detectable concern showed in his eyes. Chris said nothing. He simply set the envelope bearing the League insignia in the most conspicuous spot on the pass. The back of house went silent for a second, then broke into a low chorus of gasps and murmurs. Everyone knew what that insignia meant. It was the highest hall of the culinary world.

"I knew you had it in you, kid." A smile finally surfaced on Nathan's face. He stepped up and clapped Chris hard on the shoulder. Philip came over too, silent and spare as ever — and gave Chris the smallest of nods. To anyone else that gesture would have seemed trivial, but in Chris's eyes it was the highest approval "Machine Phil" was capable of giving. Warmth spread through Chris's chest.

From an outsider everyone had frozen out to this day — he had, at last, won the respect of this top-tier kitchen with his own ability. Envelope in hand, he knocked on the door of Chef Vincent's office. Vincent was seated behind the desk, reading a menu report. When Chris came in, he only lifted his eyelids.

"Results in?"

"Yes, Chef." Chris held out the envelope. Vincent took it, glanced at it, and showed no surprise at all — only a faint nod.

"No surprise there." As if the result had always been meant to be exactly this.

"Don't celebrate too soon." Vincent set the envelope back on the desk, leaned forward slightly, and looked at Chris.

"The people in that Selection are excellent cooks, at most. But the rivals you'll face in the League are monsters, drawn from every nation on earth. Each of them holds technique no less than Ethan's, or creativity no less than Kira's." This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. He stood and walked to a world map on the wall.

"The traditional three powers — France, Japan, Spain. Their culinary systems are the most complete, their talent pools the deepest. Especially the host, France. In the last eight Leagues, they've taken the title six times. Their young chefs enter the most brutal training in Michelin kitchens from the age of fifteen." Vincent's words were a bucket of cold water over the joy that had just kindled in Chris's chest. He realized the battlefield he was about to step onto belonged to an entirely different dimension.

Just then, his system interface popped up an update on its own. [Global Culinary Champion League — info panel updated.] [Competing teams: USA, France, Japan, Spain, Italy, Denmark… (sixteen total).] [Partial competitor profiles unlocked.] Chris's eyes were caught at once by one name. [Name: Raphaël Durand] [Nationality: France] [Position: Sous-chef, L'Éternité (three-star), Paris] [Culinary Rating: A+ (95/100)] Ninety-five! Chris's pupils contracted sharply.

It was the highest score he had ever seen in the system. Ethan at his absolute peak in the Selection had rated only 91. This Frenchman named Raphaël was, somehow, a good stretch stronger than Ethan. He opened Raphaël's ability radar chart and saw a near-perfect hexagon. Technique, creativity, flavor understanding, consistency, resilience under pressure, teamwork — every axis pushed close to the maximum. A pressure like nothing before wrapped around Chris in an instant.

For the first time, he felt with utter clarity that he was no longer the man standing at the summit. In this world there existed beings stronger than him.

"See it?" Vincent's voice pulled him back from the shock of the system.

"That is your rival. Like you, he was on the champion team of the last League — only then he was an unremarkable supporting player. Four years on, he's grown into the leading figure of France's new generation."

"You have four more months in my kitchen." Vincent walked back to stand in front of Chris, his gaze deep.

"In these four months I'll teach you everything I can. I'll show you how a real three-star kitchen actually runs."

"But some things can only be learned in Paris." Vincent's tone turned immeasurably grave.

"Real competition is when you think you've already seen the best — and then discover the world is far, far larger than you imagined." Chris clenched his fists tight. The fire in his chest, far from being smothered by this enormous pressure, only burned the fiercer for it. He knew that from today his goal was no longer to win a single contest, or to earn anyone's approval. His goal was to stand before this man named Raphaël and fight a true duel.

Not only for the honor of the American team, but to prove just how far he could go down this road. Four months of preparation began, formally, from this moment.