As the last grains of sand slipped through the hourglass, Minister Rogan's voice cut sharply through the room.
"The time has ended. Everyone, step back from your stations. Hands off your dishes."
The clatter of utensils stilled instantly. A heavy silence filled the air, broken only by the faint crackle of cooling ovens and the soft hiss of steam rising from hot pans.
Rogan's eyes moved across the six contestants, then down at his papers. "We'll begin with you." He gestured to the first of the three boys.
The first of the three stepped forward—one of the boys who had blustered earlier, dragging his dish with trembling hands. He placed down a pie on the table. Its crust was uneven, edges burnt in places, and the filling sagged slightly, looking watery.
Minister Rogan cut into it with a frown. The knife met resistance, then collapsed into a mushy center. He sighed. "The pastry is underworked, the filling overcooked. Your fundamentals are weak." He gestured dismissively. "Unqualified. Return."
The boy's face turned pale as he stumbled back, biting his lip in shame.
The second boy hurried forward with his plate. On it sat a small tart shell, its sides crumbling, with a custard filling that hadn't fully set. A sour smell rose faintly from the surface.
"I–I made a custard tart, Ministers!" he said nervously.
Selene tilted her head, watching as Rogan cut into it. The filling oozed out like curdled milk. Rogan's face twisted in disgust. "Did you even temper the eggs? Or did you simply dump everything together and pray?"
The boy's lips quivered. "I—I must have—"
"Enough," Rogan cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. "Sit down."
Finally, the third boy came forward, trying to appear confident. His dish was plated with a strange mix: a sponge cake that had clearly collapsed in the middle, topped with an uneven drizzle of syrup.
Lady Selene cut into it, lifting a forkful. The sponge was dense, heavy as dough. She chewed once, then shook her head. "Overmixed. The batter deflated before it could rise. And this syrup—too sweet, cloying. You drowned the dish to cover your mistake."
Master Alaric, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. His voice was cool, almost bored. "Three dishes, and not one shows mastery of the basics. None of you are qualified to continue."
The three boys' faces fell, shame coloring their expressions as they bowed and stepped back.
Rogan's eyes flicked to the remaining contestants. "Next."
As the three failed boys trudged back to their stations, their shoulders slumped and faces pale, the room's atmosphere shifted.
Now, the next three stepped forward: the towering big man who had mocked Ji Hoon earlier, the poised young woman in pristine whites, and Ji Hoon himself.
The large man moved first, chest puffed out as if he owned the room. He carried forward a round cake on a simple white plate. Its golden crust gleamed faintly under the light, and the rich, creamy filling held its shape without sagging. The top was dusted with a thin veil of sugar, evenly browned as though kissed by fire.
"A cheesecake," Rogan muttered, rubbing his chin. He leaned in, cutting a clean slice with his fork. The texture yielded smoothly—no cracks, no graininess.
Lady Selene took her own piece and tasted. Her expression softened. "The base has a good crunch. The filling is balanced—not too heavy, not too sweet. It speaks of someone with training, not a mere amateur."
Alaric nodded slightly. "He understands fundamentals. Timing, temperature, restraint. Nothing daring, but it shows experience."
Ji Hoon smiled faintly. 'Well unlike his behavior at least his skills are qualified.'
Rogan finally gave a grunt of approval. "You pass. Return to your station."
The man's lips curled into a smirk as he shot Ji Hoon a sideways glance. His eyes gleamed with unspoken challenge, as if to say, Beat that, noble boy. Scoffing under his breath, he strode back with exaggerated confidence.
Ji Hoon only smiled faintly, unbothered.
Next came the girl. Her auburn hair was tied neatly back, and her movements carried a quiet grace. She set her dish down with steady hands: four square pieces of golden-brown toast, glazed and shimmering faintly from a coating of egg yolk. Sugar crystals sparkled on top, catching the light.
But unlike the rustic versions the judges expected, she had plated them neatly, accompanied by a small dish of pale crème anglaise on the side.
Lady Selene's eyes brightened. "Tostees dorées… and with a crème accompaniment."
Helene bowed her head respectfully. "Yes, Minister. I wished to balance the richness with something smooth and light."
Ji Hoon looked at her dish. 'Tostees dorées, huh… that's basically the medieval version of French toast. Bread dipped in eggs, fried, and dusted with sugar.
I remember reading about it once… crazy how people online kept debating whether French toast was French or not. Turns out it's been around since Roman times.
Still, she really nailed the execution—presentation clean, texture even, and she even paired it with a crème on the side. She knows her fundamentals. Impressive.'
Selene cut into the toast with a fork. The crisp exterior gave way to a soft, custardy interior. She dipped it into the crème and tasted. Her lips curved into a small, approving smile. "The glaze is delicate, the bread not soggy. And this crème anglaise—silky, with just enough vanilla. It elevates what would otherwise be a simple dish."
Rogan took his bite with a grunt. "Hmph. The fundamentals are solid. Clean balance, no excess. Still… modest. You'll need to push harder in later rounds if you want to stand out."
Alaric leaned forward, eyes glinting. "But it shows restraint. She knows when to stop, and that is rare. Execution of classics with such finesse can be more impressive than clumsy attempts at grandeur."
His gaze fell on her. "Your name?"
"Helene," she answered softly.
"And your training?" Selene asked, like she hadn't looked at her information.
"I have served in the Royal Kitchen, my Lady."
That made Ji Hoon a little shocked. 'A Royal cook? So, this is the skill of a professional in this world.'
The three judges shared a glance of recognition. Selene nodded. "That explains your confidence. Well done, Helene. You pass."
Helene bowed again, calm and poised, before returning to her station.
Now, all eyes shifted toward Ji Hoon.
Ji Hoon lifted his tray, the row of éclairs gleaming under the hall's lamplight. Each was uniform in size, the ganache gloss reflecting faintly like polished obsidian.
He walked calmly toward the judges' table and set the tray down before them with steady hands.
Minister Rogan leaned forward, curiosity flickering across his face. "What do we have here?"
Ji Hoon gave a polite bow. "Éclairs. A choux-based pastry filled with vanilla crème pâtissière, topped with a cacao ganache."
Selene blinked, repeating the word slowly. "Éclairs…?" She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing on the delicate sheen of the chocolate.
Alaric tilted his head. "That aroma… the cacao—rich, but not overpowering. Interesting. Few use it properly in desserts."
The three exchanged a glance, then, without another word, each reached for one.
~Crunch-Crunch~
Their teeth broke through the crisp golden shell, giving way to the airy hollow interior, immediately filled with the smooth rush of custard. Then came the dark, silken slide of chocolate—bitter at first, then melting into sweetness as it blended with the custard's vanilla fragrance.
Their eyes widened.
The hall around them seemed to fade. In their minds, they stood in a field of cacao trees, the sharp scent of roasted beans mingling with the perfume of vanilla orchids drifting on a warm breeze.
Golden streams of custard poured like sunlight, weaving together with the earthy depth of chocolate, until it was no longer a simple pastry—but a harmony of textures and flavors.
Selene set down her empty plate, her expression still tinged with wonder. "This dessert… I've never encountered anything like it. Not in the palace kitchens, nor in the archives of recorded recipes."
Rogan frowned, almost unwilling to admit his astonishment. "Yes, the fundamentals are flawless—custard, ganache, shell… all executed with precision. But this dish itself—" he paused, gesturing to the éclairs, "—it doesn't exist. Is this… your own creation?"
All eyes turned to Ji Hoon.
Ji Hoon gave a calm smile, bowing slightly. "No. I learned it… somewhere." He let the words hang, neither explaining nor clarifying, as if guarding a secret.
Alaric studied him for a long moment, his sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. "Somewhere… hm. Then it is a rare art indeed, who ever taught you is a skilled one."
Ji Hoon smiled. 'He sure is, Chef Antonin was a respected figure that made dishes for the royals' after all, this dish obviously is good especially with my modern techniques to help it shine even better.'
Rogan, however, scoffed lightly, trying to regain his composure. "Hmph. A pastry no one's heard of before… impressive technique, but let's not exaggerate. It's still just flour, custard, and chocolate—" He reached out for another éclair, clearly intending to punctuate his words with another taste—
Only to find the tray empty.
Selene dabbed at her lips with a napkin, cheeks faintly pink. Alaric leaned back, looking more satisfied than usual. Both their plates were already wiped clean.
Rogan blinked, his hand hovering over the vacant tray. "…What? You two—"
Selene giggled softly, covering her mouth. "Oh, I'm afraid I couldn't resist. They were… far too easy to finish."
Alaric smirked, folding his arms. "If you wanted another, Rogan, you should've eaten faster."
The hall fell silent, then erupted in murmurs as contestants and attendants realized the éclairs had been devoured before the judges themselves had fully processed the dish.
Ji Hoon watched the chaos calmly, his silver hair catching the light as a small smile curved his lips. They've never tasted anything like it before. That's how it should be. After all… éclairs didn't exist in their world until today.
He looked at the three judges, waiting silently, his hands resting calmly at his sides. The last trace of chocolate still lingered in the air, rich and sweet.
The judges exchanged glances—Alaric leaning back with a faint smirk, Selene's eyes still bright with quiet delight, and Rogan hiding his frustration behind a furrowed brow.
Finally, Alaric spoke first, his voice low and decisive.
"I don't think there's anything we can add."
His gaze met Ji Hoon's directly. "Pass."
Selene nodded immediately. "Without question. A dessert refined in both technique and taste. Pass."
Rogan lingered, clearly wanting to argue, but with the empty tray before him and his colleagues' verdict already cast, he exhaled sharply through his nose.
"…Pass."
The word rang across the hall, drawing gasps from contestants and attendants alike. Ji Hoon's lips curved into a calm smile, his silver hair shifting as the breeze from the open windows stirred the air.
Preliminaries done.