Chapter 13
Chapter 13
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: The Great Fish Grab
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Time passed, and finally, the day of the Royal Chef Survival main round arrived.
Even though it was dawn before the darkness had fully receded, the streets were filled with countless people bustling about, infusing vitality into every corner of the city.
And there was one place where the most lively footsteps gathered.
"Wow... look at that line."
Lucia, who had been yawning nonstop and rubbing her eyes in the seat opposite me in the carriage, suddenly plastered herself to the window. Her eyes went wide as she let out one exclamation after another.
What her gaze reached was a massive tent erected in an open field on the outskirts of the capital.
A dingy tent with a few wooden poles jammed into it—a makeshift structure that screamed "hastily thrown together" to anyone who saw it.
But in front of that shabby exterior, people who had flocked there since dawn were already buzzing and lining up.
Unsurprisingly, the scene my videos had drawn.
The 4-hour preliminary footage split into two and re-edited as a theater version.
Though the quality was blurry and many scenes were cut, it was more than enough to sate the citizens whose curiosity had reached its peak.
"That 'theater' thing is doing amazingly well, isn't it? They're just raking in the money."
"Nah, not quite."
The theater's purpose wasn't immediate profit.
To quell the chaotic traffic jams and addict even more people to my videos.
So that when the official theater opens later, they won't be able to stay away.
Plus, adults 2 silver, kids 1 silver.
A price anyone could afford to see the hot videos—no wonder crowds flocked like clouds.
Perfect for families too.
"Fair enough. It was fun. My dad even rewatched his own scenes over 100 times."
"Of course. Who edited it?"
At Lucia's words, I shrugged and lifted my chin high.
Truth be told, I hadn't pulled off any amazing editing feats. I didn't even know how.
I'd just boldly cut the boring parts and tossed in some slow-motion or cross-cutting techniques during tense moments.
But to the people of this world, with no immunity to video, it had been plenty stimulating.
I gazed at the receding crowd behind the carriage, a satisfied smile on my face.
Thinking that all those people had gathered to watch the video made by my own hands... it naturally filled me with energy.
Stepping out of the carriage, a completely different scene from the preliminaries unfolded.
"Halt! No entry except authorized personnel!"
Dozens of guards had set up barricades around the venue, strictly controlling access by spectators.
It was worlds apart from the chaotic mob of last time.
Well, Princess Yuria was joining the judging panel starting today.
Obviously necessary measures for royal safety.
Free security? All good.
Wasn't costing me a dime.
With Lucia, I passed the strict guards and entered the venue.
"Whoa... what is this?"
Lucia immediately let out an exclamation at the sight inside.
"They changed it this much in just a week?"
"Well, with enough money, nothing's impossible."
The dusty ground was now covered in smooth, pristine white tiles.
The 100 counters gleamed like new.
And what most captivated Lucia's attention was the massive ingredient storage covering an entire wall of the venue.
A refrigeration magic circle emitting cool air, with dozens of fresh vegetables and dairy products neatly displayed.
And even...
"Oh my god. Isn't that a freezer magic tool?"
Lucia freaked out, pointing at a huge metal box in one corner.
A magic tool that could instantly freeze ice and rapidly chill various ingredients.
The kind so expensive that even most noble houses might not have one.
"Wow, you really shelled out, huh? That's custom-made from the Magic Tower. Must've cost a fortune."
"Eh, all told, around 2,000 gold?"
"...2,000 gold?!"
Lucia smacked my back in shock.
"...Ow, ow! Why'd you hit me?!"
"You spent 2,000 gold on temporary facilities you'll dismantle after the contest? Are you insane?"
"Tsk tsk. It's all investment, investment! You've gotta see the big picture!"
Her face froze in horror, mouth agape.
Fair enough. I'd dumped a fortune that commoners could never touch in their lives into a set that would last mere days. Calling me crazy was understandable.
But I had it all planned out.
"Shabby backgrounds kill the visuals. Good production values get people hyped. And 2,000 gold? I'll recoup it in no time. Don't worry."
The blueprint for the next phase was already vivid in my mind.
The moment this mission succeeds and the videos spread nationwide.
That's when I'd play the PPL card for real.
'Everything in this set... soon branded with merchant logos?'
Production costs are supposed to be covered by companies.
If it hits big, I could shoot with sponsorships from flour to pots—and get paid to boot.
Lucia still eyed me suspiciously, but I ignored her and started directing the servants.
"Alright, everyone to positions! Check crystal angles, verify lighting! Perfect setup before participants arrive!"
Having done it once, they moved with far more familiarity than the first shoot.
Those folks were starting to feel like my semi-exclusive staff.
Maybe turn them into a full pro production team? With generous salaries.
As preparations wrapped up, the participants began arriving one by one.
The 100 chefs who had passed the preliminaries.
Their expressions seemed to mix anticipation and tension now that they were on the real stage.
And... 10 minutes before the start.
Finally, the one whose rumors had run rampant made her appearance.
Princess Yuria von Ispell, her shining blonde hair cascading naturally, entering with elegant, light steps.
"Oh, oooh...!!"
"I heard royals were judging, but it was Princess Yuria?"
"The princess eating my dish!! I'd die without regrets!"
For some reason, the male chefs' energy seemed to spike.
She bestowed a benevolent smile on the cheering, envious participants and waved encouragingly.
A few even teared up in emotion at the sight.
Like a goddess descended—noble and sacred.
But... as she passed by me, she whispered in a tiny voice.
"Young Master Leban, I'm looking forward to it?"
Threat or cheer? My spine chilled instantly.
Felt like a tight collar around my neck.
'Today's video... has to be a hit no matter what.'
Or I'd face the confinement ending for real.
"A, ah. Mic test."
As start time approached, my brother Lucius, today's MC again, ascended the stage.
"The 100 challengers who clawed through the fierce preliminaries—heartily welcome."
His deep, resonant voice filled the venue.
Somehow, his voice sounded different from last time.
...He watched my video?
Acted disinterested, but secretly curious how he came off.
Voice pitched lower than usual, hamming it up. Kinda irritating.
Might hit him with the devil edit after all.
"But the main round's bar is far higher and harsher. Revealing the second mission theme that will decide your fates!"
At bro's gesture, the staff yanked off a massive cover on one side of the venue and simultaneously opened the lids of the boxes hidden beneath.
In an instant, a chill spread through the venue along with a salty sea scent and thick fishy odor.
"Whoa..."
"How many is that?"
Various fish lay in rows on a huge ice slab.
Cod, salmon, sea bass, sea bream, flounder... even ugly monkfish.
Participants' jaws dropped at the sight of nearly 500 fish of all kinds.
But few caught the hidden trap.
"As you see, this round's theme... fish dishes! Time limit: a mere 1 hour 30 minutes!"
At that moment, Lucius's voice boomed over the mic again.
"For a chef, as important as cooking skill is discerning good ingredients."
Bro pointed at the display.
"Of these 500 fish, only 20 are top-grade caught this morning. The rest are lower freshness—from yesterday's catches to ones a week old on the verge of spoiling!"
At those words, the participants stirred.
In other words, fail to snag good ingredients, and dropout odds skyrocket.
Amid the growing buzz, bro's voice grew more solemn.
"Can you pick the best from this sea of fakes? Prove your eye now!"
I snickered watching via the crystals.
"Bro really sells it. Voice oozes trust."
"What does that mean? Planning something wicked again?"
Lucia asked, puzzled beside me.
"Wicked? I just... used a little budget-saving trick."
Prepping top-grade fish and keeping them fresh... cost way more than expected.
So this was my solution.
Bait with 20 top-grade, mix in about 50 decent ones, fill the rest with cheap market junk.
For broadcast, plausible visuals suffice.
Where else such a bountiful fish display?
And...
"It's survival. Ingredient scrambles are prime fun, right?"
I shrugged, explaining my flawless plan—then Lucia's glare sharpened.
Looked like she'd spotted a cockroach.
Just my imagination?
By then, all rules explained.
"Then begin cooking!"
Ding-!
At the starting bell, all 100 participants charged the fish corner.
Like a school of starved piranhas.
"Outta my way!"
"Mine! Hands off!"
Chaos erupted at the fish display.
"That one, get it! No. 90 slyly tripping the guy next to him!"
I excitedly directed the staff.
Survival needs this flavor!
But amid the frenzy, the pros shone.
Dave reached the display first, scanned quick, snatched a massive monkfish that looked about 10kg.
Ex-Royal Chef Samuel was the same.
From the pile, he unhesitatingly grabbed a salmon.
Scale luster, gill color, eye clarity.
Perfect top-grade.
But not everyone could snag good stuff.
"Waaah... please just move a little...!"
Meylin, harbor town girl confident in her fish eye, hit an unexpected wall.
Her small frame couldn't compete physically with the burly participants.
"Hiiing..."
By the time she barely pushed through to the front, it was over.
The 20 top-grade gone, even decent ones swept by sharp-eyed folks.
Left: cloudy-eyed or scale-peeled obvious junk.
"Even cats back home won't touch this crap..."
Meylin pouted, rummaging the remnants.
This way, dropout before cooking even started.
"Aigoo... didn't see this coming."
Pity escaped even me watching.
Dropout like this?
My ratings generator Meylin?
Please survive, even barely! I'll edit-push somehow!
Then.
Meylin's head snapped up, eyes sparkling like she'd spotted something.
Her gaze went to Dave's counter, already cooking up front.
Skilled knife work slit the huge monkfish belly, carefully extracting innards.
Soon, a large, fatty liver chunk sat on the board.
Dave planned a liver dish, not the flesh.
As if confirming my thought, the crystal on the judges showed Marquis Frederick raving.
"Monkfish liver. Called sea foie gras—a luxury ingredient. True to Dave's noble cuisine aspirations. But the cooking difficulty is no joke..."
I let the TMI flow in one ear, focused on Meylin.
Staring at Dave, she suddenly trotted over, some idea sparking.
"Hello!"
Her sunny greeting made him pause his knife, frown, and turn.
"...What. Don't interrupt."
Annoyed by the kid mid-busywork, Dave shot a sharp glare.
But Meylin wasn't fazed.
Grinning brightly, she pointed at the monkfish body he'd set aside to discard.
"Doing liver dish? Can I use the body?"
"...What?"
Dave looked baffled.
Asking for the liverless body?
Edible sure, but mostly bone and skin—fiddly to prep, scant meat.
Food waste to him.
"What're you gonna do with that?"
"Secret! Anyway, if not using, give it to me!"
"Do whatever. Was tossing it."
"Yay!"
Meylin beamed, hugging the body nearly her size.
"Thanks so much! If I survive, I'll make you something yummy later!"
She grunted, lugging the huge monkfish to her counter.
Dave glanced at her back, shook his head, and refocused on his dish.
Figured no decent dish from such trash.
But watching via crystal, I clenched my fists tight.
"Yes! Delivering the goods again, Meylin!"
In survival shows, underdog rebellions like this are cheat keys.
Reversal dish from trashed ingredients.
What narrative could top it!
Excited, I yelled at staff.
"Crystals 15 and 16! Meylin solo shots! From grabbing the body to full cooking process! Catch every frame!"
Staff hurriedly adjusted; several screens shifted angles.
In the commotion, I glanced at Princess Yuria in the judges' seats.
Chin propped, watching Meylin with evident interest.
Elegant smile unchanged, but her sparkling eyes gleamed with unmistakable dopamine.
As expected—princess and I are the same breed.
'Good. Keep this up... secure her interest and ratings both!'
My heart pounded with anticipation.
Preliminaries?
Time to prove they were just a fleeting spark before the main event—mere prologue for the masses.