Chapter 27: On the Use of One Million
With his curiosity over IGO still fresh, Xia Yu turned his attention back to the app's food market.
To his surprise, IGO Online offered nearly anything a chef could dream of.
For those in Tokyo, average delivery time was just two hours.
Even ingredients from Osaka or Hokkaido—local specialties and delicacies—could be shipped overnight through IGO's exclusive logistics channels. Of course, expedited shipping came with extra fees, but it was clear that IGO had built a logistics network far beyond the capabilities of ordinary services like Black Cat Delivery.
Xia Yu couldn't help but suspect:Has IGO already built a global food distribution system... one that exists in the shadows of the everyday world?
To say his understanding of Japan—and the world—was shaken would be an understatement.
He'd always known the world was more complicated than it looked.
But what he hadn't expected was that the high-powered IGO from Toriko, the so-called "Prisoner of Gourmet" universe, actually existed here in some form.
Which meant...
Was there truly a Gourmet God in this world? Someone who could cook with legendary ingredients that stimulated human cells, extended life, and triggered evolution?
If IGO existed... could their archrival, the infamous Gourmet Club, also exist?
Were there even food hunters walking among them?
A chill ran down Xia Yu's spine as his imagination spun out of control.
"Mr. Kanbara," he asked, looking up from the IGO app, "have you ever been to... the gourmet world?"
To his dismay, the middle-aged man stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
"You actually believe those half-baked legends?" Kanbara Masato chuckled, shaking his head. "Yes, the God of Gourmet existed. His disciples established the IGO. But after World War II, he vanished."
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was sharing an old family secret.
"Some say he transcended our world and entered a vast gourmet realm beyond our reach. But according to our intel... the old man is still alive. Retired. Living in some remote mountain village, probably sipping tea and roasting fish."
Xia Yu blinked.
"And the current president of IGO?"
"A weird guy," Kanbara said with a grin. "Good at cooking with liquor. You'll meet him one day."
Xia Yu hesitated for a moment, then asked more directly:
"Then... is there anything in this world that goes beyond human logic? Like chefs who know martial arts... have demon forms... or can blow up tanks with one punch?"
Kanbara fell dead silent.
Then he sighed, holding his forehead.
"You've been reading way too many manga. Middle-school syndrome, huh?"
He chuckled, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
"This world isn't as exaggerated as the one you're imagining—but yes, there are still things that science can't explain. Just… not that kind of thing."
That was enough to make Xia Yu exhale a long, relieved breath.
At least he wasn't going to get suplexed by a demon chef in the middle of a food war.
Still, it gave him insight into the power ceiling of this world. IGO might have influence, but without superhuman warriors like in Toriko, it was still bound by the rules of human society. Likely, it had become more of a global culinary UN—a place for food politics and quiet power struggles.
Yet he could tell from Kanbara's half-joking tone that not everything was as simple as it seemed.
Still, no matter what larger forces were at play, he had a restaurant to run—and a bet to win.
Xia Yu turned back to the metal suitcase and picked up the final item: a bank card.
"…This from my old man?"
"Yep," Kanbara nodded. "Your IGO account is linked to it."
He patted Xia Yu's shoulder and gave him a sympathetic look.
"There's only one million yen in it. He wanted me to tell you—figure it out yourself."
Then he turned, coat fluttering like a detective leaving the scene of a crime.
"Oh, and if you hit a wall, call me."
The door closed behind him.
Xia Yu stared down at the card in his hand.
One million yen.Roughly 60,000 RMB.
He nearly cried.
The old man left him a whole restaurant to manage... and tossed him a single bone to survive with.
He quickly did some mental math. Since he owned the property, there were no rent payments. No staff to pay yet, either—he was a one-man army for now. That alone saved him a chunk on operating costs.
Still... that million wouldn't stretch far.
On IGO Online, a fresh whole salmon from Tokyo Seafood cost 4,000 yen—almost double the price of local markets.
A small box of mentaiko (seasoned cod roe) was 2,000 yen. Premium quality came at a price.
Fortunately, the shop specialized in Chinese cuisine, not high-cost seafood, so Xia Yu could be selective. After some digging, he found a supplier focused on freshwater fish—Qingyuan Fish Market.
Most Japanese people preferred ocean fish and didn't often touch river species—too much earthy odor for their taste. The exception was carp caught from spring-fed mountain streams, sometimes served as high-end sashimi.
Xia Yu felt a small wave of relief.
Good. Freshwater fish suppliers do exist.
After all, his signature dish last night—Squirrel Perch—required exactly that.
It also explained something that had nagged him for years.
Every evening after school, he'd come home to find the kitchen stocked with pristine, high-end ingredients. Yet he'd never once seen a supplier come to the door.
The old man must have arranged for IGO deliveries to be deliberately staggered—to keep the boy in the dark.
A form of protection.
Back then, Xia Yu showed no particular talent for cooking. It was only now, after a week of transformation, that the old man finally deemed him ready—and handed him the key to this hidden world.
Xia Yu's resolve flared.
Buy! Buy now!
He quickly drafted the next three days' menu. Thanks to IGO's convenient and reliable marketplace, he didn't hesitate. Even though prices were high, the quality was unmatched.
He wasn't just a chef—he was the manager of this restaurant now.
If he had the best ingredients and refused to use them to save a few bucks, that would be a betrayal of his craft.
He would rather raise the price of each dish than compromise its quality.
Wasn't that the same thing that top-tier chefs like Hinata Inui did with her restaurant, Kirinoya?
Totsuki graduates and established restaurants all used IGO markets. As a newcomer, he had no room to skimp.
He placed a bulk order for three days' worth of ingredients. If the refrigerator had been bigger, he might've stocked up for a week.
Then came the sting.
Transaction successful. Your account balance is—
More than 100,000 yen gone.
Xia Yu looked up at the ceiling and let out a dramatic sigh.
Can this million yen even last until April?
Very questionable.
And so began his struggle—turning this limited capital into his first pot of gold, reviving his family restaurant, and winning the impossible bet against Erina Nakiri.
The coming days would determine everything.