With a flourish of her knife, Erina executed a flashy maneuver. Watching the pork trotters's skin bubble and turn golden in the oven on its second round, her attention became laser-focused.
With a crisp pop as the oil blistered, she quickly donned thick gloves and pulled out the pork trotters. Steam still rose from it; the crackling skin had formed just right and was at its peak.
Without hesitation, Erina's knife sliced with sharp, precise control—separating skin from flesh, cutting the meat cleanly without damaging it. She deboned it perfectly and divided it into five equal portions, laying them neatly on plates across the table.
"Whether I have real skill or I'm just all talk—this dish will give you the answer. It'll also show you just how vast the gap is between high society and the common folk. Its name is Döslein Crispy Pork Knuckle."
Her eyes were sharp and her voice carried unshakable confidence. As she poured the sauce over the steaming meat, an intense aroma exploded into the air, invading the hearts and minds of everyone present.
Thump, thump.
The deep impact of the fragrance made Sora pause in his dough kneading. He hadn't been idle while Erina was cooking—he still had tomorrow's business to prepare.
Gulp...
The rich scent lingered at his nose. Sora couldn't help but swallow. His body moved of its own accord toward the dish. The golden, crispy skin, the tender meat, and that special sauce—all of it instantly captivated him.
It was an absolutely perfect dish. The skin had the ideal color—bake it a bit longer and it would've been tough and dry; any less and it would've been too soft to chew. Achieving this required incredible precision and attention to detail.
"This is amazing! The skin is crispy, the meat is tender, and the sauce... it has the sweetness of onions, the fragrance of carrots, and the refreshing taste of celery. Together, it's just divine!"
As soon as she took a bite, Riko's eyes widened. Her previously upright posture began to waver, her cheeks flushed pink, and her thighs pressed tightly together, as if something inside was about to burst out.
Ako wasn't much better—her brain was being overloaded by the dish's deliciousness. Dopamine flooded her mind, and a tingling sensation crept through her entire body, leaving her in a dazed, overwhelmed state.
"Erina-sama, you're incredible! It feels like something's bursting through my body! It's like riding a wild boar—this dish has such raw, primal appeal!"
Hisako, cheeks red from the intensity, held onto the edge of the table and beamed with bliss. As expected of Erina-sama's cooking—after eating this, she felt she could die happy.
[Dish Analyzed]: Döslein Crispy Pork Knuckle
[Quality]: Bronze (Superior)
[Analysis: 8%]
[Ingredients]: Pork knuckle, garlic, carrots, celery...
"The taste is pretty good. I guess your reputation isn't undeserved. But if that's all you've got, you're still not going to beat me."
While his face flushed slightly from the dish's impact, Sora smiled and spoke confidently. The Crystal Mirage in his inventory had finally reached full progress. He washed his hands, opened the fridge, and pulled out the same ingredients Erina had used.
Closing his eyes, he silently activated the Crystal Mirage.
A moment later, Sora had fully absorbed Erina's cooking experience. He moved without hesitation—replicating every single step with perfection.
"Even if the steps are the same, a slight difference in temperature or timing will make the final taste completely different."
Erina refused to believe that Sora could match her precision. Sure, the recipe said 160°C for one hour, but she'd made subtle adjustments based on the pork knuckle's size.
If Sora was just blindly copying her, the flavor might come close—but it would never be the same. And if the flavor was even slightly off, he would lose.
This match was absurd from the beginning. That's why Erina had agreed to the ridiculous bet—there was no way she'd ever wear a maid outfit and call him "Master" in public. That would be the ultimate humiliation!
"158 degrees, 63 minutes."
Sora adjusted the settings with surgical precision and gave Erina a confident look before returning to kneading dough. Making noodles took time—each batch required at least two hours.
He glanced at the wall clock. It was almost eleven. Damn, this match was eating into his prep time. Didn't these people realize he had to wake up early tomorrow?
"Empty bravado."
Arms crossed, Erina scoffed at his specific timing. She didn't believe he had the skill to pull this off, but a small sliver of anxiety had crept into her heart.
Sora's every step mirrored hers, with no deviation. Under the effects of the Crystal Mirage, there was zero error. His heat control was equally flawless.
The more she watched, the darker Erina's expression became. She felt a deep, sinking premonition—this guy was hiding something. His cooking ability was clearly solid, yet he only made low-class food?
She bit her lip and stepped closer, watching him mix the sauce. Her heart plummeted.
They'd put their sauces in separate bowls, but somehow... both looked exactly the same—in color, in thickness, in aroma. Even without tasting it, she knew the truth.
This was impossible.
She had used three types of vegetables. A small mistake in the proportions would've changed the sauce completely. Yet Sora's was an exact replica.
How could this be?!
She stared at the oven. When the ding of the timer rang, Sora calmly slipped on oven mitts and retrieved the perfectly roasted crispy pork knuckle.
"Come on, try it. This is your proud, high-class dish, right? Doesn't seem all that hard to copy."
He used the exact same slicing technique as Erina, dividing the pork into five portions and lining them up. Even these small gestures were identical. It almost made people wonder—was Sora being controlled by Erina?
Sora had to admit—this girls's skills were legit. The flavor of this dish far surpassed that of his usual pork trotter rice. The key difference lay in heat control.
In terms of culinary tiers, their usual skill gap was like bronze to silver—but this wasn't even Sora's specialty. And yet, he'd still matched her.
But the winner of this match would be decided by imitation. As Erina hesitantly picked up her fork and knife, Sora silently stepped closer, removing his oven mitts.
"Well? Does it taste exactly the same? Maybe other people can't tell the difference—but you have the God Tongue. Let's hear it, Miss Nakiri."
Sora grinned, whispering in her ear as he watched her take a bite—and get struck like lightning.
Her pride was crumbling, and Sora couldn't be more delighted.