Thin steam scented with cedar and sandalwood danced in the air, blurring the line between vision and the elegantly arched ceiling overhead.
The trickling sound of water falling from an artificial bamboo spout blended with the stillness of the night, creating a symphony of perfect relaxation.
After finishing his own dinner portion with an almost mechanical speed and efficiency, Emiya Shirou wasted no time.
He stepped away from the hustle and bustle of the test kitchen, which was still filled with the panicked shouts of the students, and headed straight to the Totsuki Resort’s public bath facility.
The bathhouse was named Recette Heaven—or Recipe Heaven.
A slightly exaggerated name, Shirou thought when he first read the gold plaque at the entrance.
However, once he stepped foot into the main pool area, he had to admit that Totsuki never messed around when it came to luxury.
The bathhouse’s interior design blended the beauty of traditional Japanese architecture with high-end modern touches.
Large black natural stones were neatly arranged around a vast hot spring pool, the floor was made of non-slip marble, and the dim lighting gave the illusion as if he were bathing in the middle of a pine forest at night.
The main purpose of Recette Heaven was crystal clear: to regenerate body cells and relax the muscles of the young chefs who had been thoroughly exhausted during this hell training camp.
Shirou leaned his back against a warm natural stone, letting the chest-deep hot water submerge his body.
The water contained special minerals that immediately seeped into his pores, easing the tension in his shoulders and arms after performing precise movements to cook fifty pieces of steak simultaneously.
“So comfortable…” Shirou murmured softly, closing his eyes.
It only took ten minutes for Shirou to feel his body return to a comfortable state.
Shirou’s physical endurance limit far surpassed that of an ordinary human.
He didn’t need a long time to recover from fatigue.
I should head back to my room soon, Shirou thought to himself as he grabbed a small towel.
After this, Soma and Yoshino will definitely drag everyone to Marui’s room to play cards.
If I show up late, they’ll surely make a racket right outside my door.
Shirou quickly rinsed his body in the shower area, dried himself off, and put on a dark blue casual yukata provided by the hotel.
The fabric was incredibly soft, made of premium quality cotton that felt cool against the skin.
However, right as Shirou stepped into the main locker room area, which was lined with modern tatami flooring, the automatic sliding doors from the bathhouse lobby slid open.
An enormous man with perfectly sculpted muscles stepped inside.
He carried an aura of authority so thick that the air in the locker room felt slightly heavier.
Dojima Gin.
The head chef of the Totsuki Resort and a legendary alumnus of Totsuki Academy.
Dojima’s steps faltered.
His sharp eyes beneath the shadow of his thick eyebrows widened for a fleeting moment.
He clearly did not expect to find anyone in this room.
Dojima glanced at the large wall clock above the lockers.
“This is strange.
I specifically scheduled my bath exactly twenty-five minutes before the time limit for the 50-serving steak exam ends.”
Dojima crossed his arms over his chest, quickly analyzing the situation.
“Mathematically speaking, it is impossible for a student to cook fifty servings, get evaluated by Sekimori, cook their own dinner, eat it, and already be fully refreshed after a bath by this time.
There simply isn’t enough time.”
Dojima stared intently at the auburn-haired youth before him.
His eyes narrowed, recognizing the face.
“But, after seeing who is standing here, that anomaly makes perfect sense.
So it’s you, Emiya Shirou.”
Shirou stopped drying his hair with the towel.
He met Dojima’s gaze calmly, not feeling the least bit intimidated by the giant stature of the man in front of him.
“Good evening, Chef Dojima,” Shirou greeted in a polite yet flat tone.
“Is this bath area off-limits to students who have finished their assignments?”
Dojima chuckled softly, his deep laugh echoing in the locker room.
“Of course not.
This facility is indeed a privilege for anyone capable of finishing early.
I just…
didn’t expect to see a student here this quickly.”
Dojima stepped closer, his aura feeling oppressive but not hostile.
“Senzaemon-dono specifically mentioned your name in a private conversation.
He said that this year’s batch has a very unique ‘jewel,’ and that I had to see it for myself to believe it.”
Dojima stared intently at Shirou, trying to find a crack in the youth’s composure.
“Seeing you standing here right now, when hundreds of other students haven’t even touched cold water to wash off their sweat…
it seems the old man was right.”
Shirou returned the gaze calmly.
He didn’t look arrogant or intimidated by the implicit praise in the slightest.
“I merely completed the kitchen work as efficiently as possible, Chef.
The faster I finish, the sooner I can clean up and rest.”
“A highly pragmatic answer,” Dojima nodded in agreement, loosening his work tie.
“Enjoy your rest tonight, Emiya Shirou.
Because tomorrow morning, the real hell will finally open its doors to you all.”
“I will keep that in mind.
Excuse me, Chef.” Shirou gave a brief, respectful bow, then turned and walked out of the locker room.
Dojima watched Shirou’s back slowly disappear behind the automatic doors.
He touched his chin, a smile full of intrigue etched on his face.
Emiya Shirou.
His presence was completely unreadable.
He didn’t radiate a competitive aura like the other students, yet his composure somehow felt far more dangerous.
Leaving Recette Heaven, Shirou walked down the long corridor connecting the bathhouse area to the hotel’s main wing.
The night air slipping in through the upper vents felt refreshing against Shirou’s skin.
He walked at a leisurely pace, planning to return to his own room since he knew his friends were surely still struggling.
However, the silence of the corridor was broken by the clicking sound of high heels approaching with a fast and haughty rhythm.
From the opposite direction, a girl with beautifully flowing, long honey-blonde hair approached.
She was still wearing her Totsuki school uniform, kept flawlessly neat without a single wrinkle—a pristine white blouse, the signature striped Totsuki neck ribbon, and a plaid skirt that accentuated her proportional curves.
In her hand, she carried a small woven basket filled with elite skincare products.
Erina Nakiri.
The “God’s Tongue.” As a first-year student, she had obviously just finished her own 50-serving exam incredibly fast and was now heading to wash up.
When Erina noticed the presence of someone else in the quiet corridor, her steps slowed.
And when her sharp purple eyes recognized Shirou’s face, she stopped completely.
“E-Emiya Shirou?!” Erina’s voice jumped up an octave, briefly losing her aristocratic tone.
Shirou slowed his pace until he stopped a few steps in front of Erina.
He observed the girl for a moment.
“Nakiri.
Heading to the bathhouse?”
Erina hastily adjusted her expression.
She raised her chin, folding one arm under her chest while her other hand held the bath basket.
Her face radiated an aura of arrogance that she desperately tried to maintain.
“T-That is none of your business!” Erina snapped, turning her face slightly to the side, though the tips of her ears were slightly flushed.
“The real question is, what are you doing roaming around here in such casual clothes?
A first-year student like you should still be drenched in sweat and exhausted flipping meat for tonight’s assignment!”
“The exam is over for me,” Shirou replied flatly.
“The 50-serving steak assignment, cooking my own dinner, and bathing.
It’s all done.”
Erina’s eyes widened in disbelief.
She knew perfectly well the standard set by the alumni.
Finishing everything that fast was an impossibility for an ordinary student.
However, Erina recalled the day of the Totsuki entrance exam.
She remembered how Shirou’s cooking—which looked incredibly simple yet possessed absolute perfection—had managed to shatter her defenses.
Her God’s Tongue had literally been forced to submit to a deliciousness that defied common sense.
Realizing that the young man in front of her truly possessed the skill, Erina bit her lower lip.
Feelings of annoyance and a refusal to be outdone churned in her chest.
“I-Is that so!” Erina scoffed, flipping her blonde hair with a dramatic motion.
“Don’t think you’re so great just because you can cook fast!
Speed without elegance is mere brute labor, just so you know!”
Shirou did not take the bait.
Instead, he looked at Erina with a direct gaze that suddenly made the girl feel flustered.
“Why are you staring at me like that?!” Erina took a half-centimeter step back, her hand gripping the handle of her basket tighter.
“Nothing.
I was just thinking, beneath all that anger, you must be very exhausted,” Shirou said in a calm tone that wasn’t accusatory in the slightest.
“You must have finished very quickly to be able to be here right now.
Soaking in the hot water will be great for relieving your tension.
Go on in, while the pool is still empty.”
Erina blinked rapidly.
She had prepared dozens of retorts to insult Shirou, but the youth’s genuine and straightforward care completely shattered her momentum.
Her words caught in her throat.
A distinct blush now spread across both of Erina’s cheeks.
Her heart beat slightly faster, something she absolutely hated because she couldn’t control it.
“W-What is with you?!” Erina stammered, her face growing even redder.
She turned her face completely toward the corridor wall.
“D-Don’t act like a know-it-all, Emiya!
I am not tired at all!
And I don’t need advice from a transfer student on how I should manage my schedule!”
Shirou merely let out a soft sigh.
Dealing with Erina’s stubbornness somehow always reminded him of Tohsaka Rin.
Both possessed sky-high pride but could never be honest with their own feelings.
“Have it your way, Nakiri,” Shirou stepped forward, walking past Erina, who was still looking away.
“Bathe and get plenty of rest.
Good night.”
As Shirou walked past her, Erina could catch the faint scent of cedar soap and hot steam lingering on the youth’s yukata.
A scent that, strangely enough, felt incredibly comforting.
Erina stood frozen for a few seconds after Shirou walked away.
She slowly turned her head back, watching Shirou’s retreating back.
“W-What a rude young man!” Erina grumbled quietly to herself, stomping her foot on the floor.
“Running his mouth as if he understands everything about me!”
However, despite her grumbling, Erina touched her own chest, which was still pounding.
She clutched her basket and quickened her pace toward Recette Heaven, hoping the hot water of the pool could hide her face, which was burning up for reasons other than the bathhouse steam.
Leaving Erina behind, Shirou continued walking toward his own room.
Sekimori’s exam still had about twenty minutes left at this point.
Considering his friends from the Polar Star Dormitory were undoubtedly still struggling in the test kitchen and had to cook their own dinners afterward, Shirou decided to rest.
Upon arriving at his room, which had a modern minimalist vibe, Shirou laid down on the plush mattress.
The silence of the five-star hotel room sharply contrasted with the chaos happening outside.
Staring at the ceiling, Shirou let his mind rest.
He waited patiently, giving the others time to finish their first day of hell.
Over two hours passed peacefully.
The clock was already showing half-past ten at night when a loud knock echoed on his door, accompanied by a familiarly noisy voice.
“Oi, Emiya!
Are you asleep already?!” Yukihira Soma’s voice called out from behind the door.
“Come on out!
We’re all going to play cards in Marui’s room!”
Shirou opened his eyes, a faint smile blooming on his face.
He got up from the mattress, adjusted his yukata, and opened the door.
In front of him stood Soma, who still looked fresh.
“You guys just finished?” Shirou asked casually.
“Hahaha, pretty much!
After cooking dinner and taking a lightning-fast shower, Yoshino immediately dragged all of us over,” Soma laughed while pointing toward the end of the hallway.
“Come on, the others are waiting!”
Shirou nodded and followed Soma toward room number 205—Zenji Marui’s room.
Even before they entered, the sound of commotion could be heard from inside.
There was roaring laughter, shouts of protest from Marui lamenting his room being used as a party venue, and the sound of Yoshino Yuki excitedly shuffling a deck of cards.
“Yo, Shirou!
You were so chill leaving us in the kitchen earlier!” Yoshino greeted as Shirou and Soma entered and joined the circle sitting on the carpet.
Marui was sitting in the corner of the room hugging his knees, his face pale but looking resigned.
“Sorry, I held myself back so I wouldn’t disturb your concentration,” Shirou replied casually, deliberately omitting his encounters with Chef Dojima and Erina so they could focus on relaxing tonight.
Picking up a card dealt by Ibusaki, Shirou felt the warmth of this camaraderie.
However, amidst the laughter of his friends who were betting with snacks, he gazed out the pitch-black window of the hotel room.
The first day of the training camp had indeed ended.
However, the shadow of elimination tomorrow was already poised to ambush anyone who let their guard down.
“Like my work?