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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Dinner that evening was unusually quiet, a rare break from the usual barrage of verbal attacks thrown my way. But the silence offered me no comfort. It felt cold in the absence of Kaiyo. No one doubted he was dead.

I couldn’t stop replaying the sight of him convulsing, sparks crawling up his arm, blood dripping from his eyes. It seared into my memory, haunting me with every bite. Was this apprenticeship worth it? Was a Michelin star worth my life?

Kenji and I sat at one end of the table while Jiro, Taka, and Dori grouped at the other. It felt like we were divided into teams now, alliances formed by default. Survival demanded it.

“Are you okay?” Kenji’s voice was low, barely audible over the quiet tapping of chopsticks. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I stared at my bento, my chopsticks aimlessly stabbing at the grilled fish. “It was supposed to be a classroom instruction,” I said softly. “That’s what Iron Face told us. You heard that, right? It wasn’t just me.”

Kenji nodded. “I heard the same, but he never said it wouldn’t be dangerous. We assumed it wouldn’t.”

His words were maddening because they were true. We should have known better. This place thrived on deception, luring us into a false sense of security before pulling the rug out from under us. And yet, every time, we fell for it. Kaiyo had paid the price this time.

“It’s our fault,” I said. The words left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“We didn’t kill Kaiyo. This place did. He knew the risks.”

“Did he, Kenji? Did any of us know what we were walking into when we accepted the apprenticeship? This was supposed to be about becoming great sushi chefs, not…whatever this is.”

“Regardless, that’s one less person to compete with. I’m one step closer to the end.” He shoveled rice into his mouth without pause. “Are you finishing your food?”

His bluntness hit me like a slap. I knew this was a competition and that winning was the goal, but his indifference was jarring. Without a word, I slid my bento over to him.

He dumped the contents into his own container. “Those three,” he said, nodding toward the other end of the table, “are our enemies. We need to protect ourselves from them.”

I frowned. “The challenges don’t really pit us against each other. They never have.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The challenges aren’t designed to make us sabotage each other. They’re testing something else: our problem-solving, our ability to withstand pressure, to push forward even when death is staring us in the face.”

As the words tumbled out of me, clarity formed in my mind. For the first time, I began to understand the program’s real purpose. Every challenge was a worst-case scenario, a nightmare brought to life. Survive Sakamoto’s tests, and you could survive any kitchen. Even the most toxic.

“The lock on my door is a test,” I muttered, more to myself than Kenji. “It’s all a test. Every single part of this program.”

Kenji’s brows dipped together. “A test for what?”

“Trust. Endurance. Loyalty. If we can survive this, we can survive anything. Would you want a kitchen staff you couldn’t trust who would leak your recipes or turn on you at the first sign of trouble? Or one that gave up as soon as things got tough?”

“You think that’s what this is all about?” His tone was skeptical.

“It’s an explanation that makes sense. Chef Sakamoto can’t just be a psychopath who enjoys torturing people, right?”

“That’s debatable,” Kenji said, shrugging. “But I still think those three are the enemy.”

After dinner, Kenji left me abruptly, saying something about returning to the dorms. I didn’t try to keep up. We usually hung out in my room on nights we skipped the library, but tonight, I welcomed the break. I needed time to think.

Since entering the program, I had started to see the bigger picture. The challenges weren’t just cruel. They were calculated. Every twist, every lie, every moment of panic served a purpose. But one question kept nagging me: How far would they go to test us?

When I entered my room, I found a folded piece of paper on my bed—a note: Come to the temple in the gardens.

The handwriting was unfamiliar but feminine. My mind jumped to Reina. It had to be her. But what if it wasn’t? One of the others could have left this. Taka came to mind. Was it a trap? Or did Reina really want to meet?

My pulse quickened as I tucked the note into my uniform. It was reckless to follow blindly, but curiosity won over caution. My instincts screamed Reina .

Once the hallway cleared, I slipped out of the dorms and hurried to the gardens, the darkness closing around me.

The temple rose against the moonlit sky, its silhouette stark and foreboding. The open windows revealed only darkness, but the faint scent of incense told me it was not empty. Reina stood at the far end of the temple, near the flicker of a single candle. As the flame’s light danced across her face, she turned slightly. “Please, come inside.”

Tonight, Reina wore a traditional floral kimono, which contrasted with her usual polished attire. The look felt ceremonial.

“Today, another apprentice was lost,” she said, her voice low. “How does that make you feel?”

Again, diplomacy challenged me. Speak my mind, or play it safe?

“I thought Kanshisha-san would instruct us in a class, but it was like the other challenges. Were you aware of this?” My voice was steady, but frustration bubbled under the surface.

“I wasn’t,” she said softly. “I’m sorry you and the others were put through it.”

“Sorry?” The word escaped me, sharp and incredulous. “Kaiyo is dead. He was a real person, someone who was looking forward to enjoying his life as a chef,” I blurted before I caught myself and stopped. No matter how much Reina encouraged me to speak freely, she was still Sakamoto’s wife, and I couldn’t afford to disrespect her. “I’m sorry. My emotions got the best of me.”

“Emotions are part of what makes us human,” she said calmly. “I would worry if you showed none. What happened to Kaiyo also saddens me, but as I’ve mentioned, it’s important to always be on guard.”

“I realize that now,” I said. “It was our mistake to assume only the challenges would test us with danger.”

“Chef Sakamoto only views the challenges,” she said. “That is the only time you will have to impress him. Everything else is a distraction. Remember that.”

“How can I stand out if I’m just trying to survive?” I snapped. “Don’t you think this is insane? Surely it’s illegal.”

Her expression shifted, cracking slightly, revealing something dark and monstrous under her composed mask. She spoke, her words now clipped. “Most of you won’t make it. That’s the point. To be a top chef requires sacrifice and resilience. Perhaps I was wrong about you.” She paused, her lips pursed. “Maybe you don’t have what it takes to be great…like your father.”

My stomach twisted. “Why would you say that?”

Reina tilted her head slightly, a faint smile returning. “Your father was a great chef, perhaps even better than my husband. But…” Something flashed behind her eyes before she looked away. “He could have had it all, the fame, the fortune, and…” She trailed off.

“Fortune and what?” I demanded, stepping closer. “What are you talking about? Tell me!”

Reina turned back to me, her composure snapping back into place. “Do you want to be the best?” she asked. “You have the talent, just like your father. But talent alone won’t carry you. You must sacrifice.”

“I want to be the best. I’ll work hard, but these challenges?—”

“Akiko,” she interrupted. “If it were easy, every chef would have a Michelin-starred restaurant. Sacrifice weeds out the weak. Resilience sets apart the best. You cannot have one without the other. You must find the right balance.”

She blew out the candle. Darkness engulfed the room, and for a moment, I was blind and vulnerable. When my eyes adjusted, she was already near the temple’s entrance, her figure framed by moonlight.

“Oh, and Akiko…” Reina’s voice softened to a whisper. “Pay attention to the knife. It can be your greatest tool in the kitchen or your undoing.” Before I could respond, she disappeared into the night.

The temple was silent, but my thoughts refused to settle. Reina’s cryptic warning echoed in my head. Would the next challenge push me to my breaking point?