Kael didn't approach the trio right away—there wasn't a good enough reason to, after all. Otherwise, he wouldn't have minded getting to know Megumi Tadokoro a little earlier.
Once the Two-Star assessment wrapped up, the Three-Star Chef exam began. To Kael's mild surprise, the station assigned to him was right between Megumi and the two guys from Polar Star Dormitory, Daigo Aoki and Shoji Sato. Their cooking stations were lined up in a row.
Megumi, however, stood out from everyone else. While the other candidates busied themselves with setup and prep work, she was… scribbling the kanji for "person" over and over on her palm and pretending to swallow it.
The sight drew curious looks from nearby chefs. Sure, nervous candidates were common—but this level of anxiety? That was peak Tadokoro.
"You know that doesn't actually help, right?"
Kael couldn't stop himself. The words slipped out before he could think twice. His comment immediately drew the attention of Megumi and her two dormmates.
"Ah—um! I—I'm so sorry! Was I bothering you?" Megumi stammered, flustered and panicked. She clearly worried she'd distracted someone during the exam.
Kael shook his head. "No need to apologize. You didn't bother me. I just think that method's not really helping. It's making you more nervous, not less."
With how tense she looked, there was no way she'd pass unless she got insanely lucky.
"I... I know, but this is the only thing that helps me calm down, even a little."
Her voice was small but sincere. She was fully aware the trick didn't work—it just gave her something to cling to.
Kael crossed his arms. "Then try a different approach. Instead of calming down, trigger another emotion—something strong enough to drown out your nerves. Anger, fear, anything works. And if that's hard, imagine a scene that stirs those feelings."
In the original story, Soma Yukihira had helped Megumi focus by giving her a quick jolt of pain—pinching her cheek to snap her out of her panic. It had worked, but only because the pain kept her grounded, and more importantly, because Soma had been the first person in that toxic environment to believe in her.
Everyone else in her class treated Megumi like a burden—someone to avoid or look down on. Soma was the only one who didn't. The only one who stood beside her instead of above her.
So when someone like that showed up and extended a hand, of course her attention shifted entirely to him. That connection—not the pain—was what helped her relax.
Kael's method, though, aimed to use emotion in another way—by overwriting anxiety with something stronger. It wasn't perfect, but anything was better than letting fear run wild.
Because at this point, Megumi's nervousness wasn't just stage fright anymore—it had calcified into something deeper: insecurity. The belief that she'd always fail, no matter how hard she tried.
"I... I don't really understand what you mean," Megumi admitted, blinking up at him in confusion.
"It's simple," Kael said patiently. "You're nervous because you're afraid of failing, right? So flip it around. Imagine what happens if you fail again. Imagine your family hearing about it."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Maybe they wouldn't blame you. Maybe they'd even comfort you," Kael continued, his tone calm but deliberate. "But think deeper. You keep failing the Three-Star exam, while everyone else passes. Word gets around. People start talking behind your back—gossiping when you're not there."
He leaned a little closer. "At first, you might not hear those whispers. But as time goes on, the talk spreads. Every new failure brings it all up again. Eventually, the gossip turns ugly—people stop saying you 'lack talent' and start saying your parents didn't raise you right. That there's something wrong with your whole family."
He paused, letting that image sink in. "Now picture that—your family getting blamed, whispered about, humiliated. All because of you."
Kael wasn't being cruel—he was redirecting. Someone like Megumi wouldn't react to insults aimed at herself. She'd just shrink back, apologize, and bear it quietly. But drag her family into it? That hit a nerve.
Family was everything to her.
As a child, she'd seen how much pressure her parents were under. When she realized their family restaurant was struggling because no one could perform the anglerfish dissection show anymore, she hadn't hesitated—she went out on her own to learn it, just to help.
Someone like that couldn't stand the thought of her loved ones being shamed because of her mistakes.
Under Kael's quiet, steady guidance, Megumi's imagination did the rest. She pictured her parents smiling sadly while enduring judgmental stares, comforting her even as others whispered behind their backs.
Her face flushed crimson. Her trembling stopped. The nervousness that had paralyzed her began to twist—turning into guilt, then frustration, and finally, a simmering determination.
"Looks like it's working," Kael said with a small smile. "Remember—whenever you start to panic, think of your family. Think about how much they'd hurt if you let this get the better of you. If you don't want that to happen, take control. Show them your best."
And honestly, he wasn't wrong. If her family ever found out how often she'd failed because of nerves—and how close she'd come to expulsion, just like in the original story—it would've crushed them.
Before he could say more, the examiner's voice echoed through the hall. The assessment was starting.
This time, the theme was Regional Cuisine—Megumi's specialty. She was a member of the Regional Cuisine Research Society, after all.
Regional cuisine was just another way of saying "local home cooking"—the familiar, comforting flavors that defined every town and prefecture.
In other words, for Megumi Tadokoro, this theme might as well have been a blessing from the gods.