Chương 26: The Restaurant Takeover

Early the next morning, before the sky had even lightened, the production team's bus pulled the twelve contestants from the contestant apartments and drove straight for downtown Los Angeles. The mood on the bus was unusually heavy; almost no one spoke. The pressure of the restaurant takeover sat on every chest like a boulder. Chris sat by the window, watching the streetscape rush backward, his mind racing.

Last night, after activating the "Quest Publishing" function, the system hadn't issued a specific quest right away — only the note: In the team challenge, hidden quests or phased objectives will trigger based on environment. It told Chris the system was steering him from a simple "culinary competitor" toward a more complex role — a battlefield commander. He didn't like the feeling of things being out of his control.

But he understood, more clearly, that in a team battle no individual's cooking, however strong, was more than a single part. To win, he had to make the whole machine run smoothly.

"Hey, what are you thinking about?" Sarah asked softly beside him. She seemed to have read his gravity.

"Thinking about what tonight's menu might be," Chris answered offhand.

"My guess is classic American gastropub food — steaks, burgers, fish and chips, that kind of thing," Sarah analyzed.

"The place is called The Gridiron. You can tell from the name — big portions, bold flavors, high turnover. A back kitchen like that is a war zone." Chris nodded. Sarah's read matched his own. A place like that demanded extreme speed and process discipline on service; the moment one link jammed, it set off a chain reaction that could collapse the whole kitchen. Just then Leo, sitting up front, turned around with a gloating little smile.

"Chris, that perfect score yesterday was quite the show. But a team battle isn't a one-man act. Try not to drag us down." His words had barely landed when a few others chimed in.

"Yeah, team battles are about coordination."

"You just got back. You probably don't know our rhythm yet." It sounded like a reminder, but the distrust and rejection in their tone were utterly undisguised. To them, Chris was a paratrooper, an intruder, a variable that had disrupted the existing balance. Chris didn't get angry. He didn't even lift an eyelid, only replied mildly, "I'll do my part. You do yours." His calm made Leo and the rest feel like they'd punched a pillow, and they turned back around, having gotten nothing for the trouble.

Sarah gave Chris a worried look.

"Don't take it to heart. They're just… a little tense."

"I don't," Chris said, and it was the truth. He had no time now for these childish provocations. His head was full of kitchen flow lines, station assignments, and contingency plans. The bus finally stopped at the door of a rough, industrial-styled restaurant. The huge neon sign read "The Gridiron Grill & Bar." Through the great floor-to-ceiling glass, you could see the spacious dining room and the long bar inside. Gareth Vane and the other two judges were already waiting at the door.

"Welcome to your battlefield." Vane's opening was as concise and forceful as ever.

"Tonight, this restaurant belongs to you." He led the twelve contestants inside. The restaurant's manager and staff stood lined up, waiting; they'd serve as observers but offer no help. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. The back kitchen was bigger and more complex than imagined. A long hot line ran left to right — grill, fryer, oven, sauté section. Across from it, the cold station and the prep station.

The pass in the middle was an enormous window connecting the kitchen to the world outside.

"You'll split into Red and Blue teams," Vane announced.

"The method is simple." He had the contestants stand in a row and count off, left to right.

"Red, Blue, Red, Blue…" Chris's heart sank slightly. Random assignment like this meant he couldn't choose his teammates at all. Everything down to luck. In the end the teams came out: Blue Team — Chris, Sarah, and four others: Jack, a hot-tempered meat chef; Mia, a quiet pastry chef; Owen, a fast-handed Asian guy; and a woman named Jessica, who looked experienced and steady. Red Team was led by Leo, David, and the genius contestant Chris had scanned during the revival round — Ethan Cole.

"All right, teams are set." Vane went on.

"Both teams will use exactly the same menu, set for you by the restaurant's head chef. You have four hours of prep. At six p. m. sharp, the restaurant opens. Dinner service runs three hours, ending at nine." He pointed to an electronic display above the pass.

"This will show, in real time, each team's number of plates sent, average ticket time, and number of bad reviews. Customers can rate every dish one to five stars on the tablet at their table. Three stars or below counts as a bad review."

"In the end, the team with a higher bad-review rate — or with a large backlog of unfinished orders when service ends — is the losing side. The losers go straight into the elimination challenge, and at least one person goes out. Understood?"

"Yes, Chef!" everyone answered together.

"Good. Now, captains step forward and collect your menus." On the Red side, Ethan Cole stepped up without contest. Tall, confident, a born leader's air about him. On the Blue side, everyone instinctively looked at Jack. Jack was one of the winners of a previous round — forceful, and he'd shown some organizational ability in earlier small collaborations. Jack stepped up without ceremony and walked forward shoulder to shoulder with Ethan. Chris watched this with calm eyes.

He knew that, given his current standing, there was no way for him to fight for the captain's role. Forcing himself forward would only breed greater resentment and infighting. What he had to do now was lie low. Jack and Ethan took the menus from the head chef and returned to their teams. Jack opened his and read it out loud.

"Appetizer: Buffalo wings with blue-cheese dip. Mains, choice of three: one, classic New York strip with black pepper sauce; two, pan-seared salmon with asparagus and lemon butter sauce; three, BBQ pulled-pork burger with coleslaw. Dessert: molten chocolate lava cake with vanilla ice cream." A very classic American menu, and one that tested fundamentals and process management hard.

No single dish was especially complex, but combined — handling dozens of tickets at once during the rush — it was a brutal test for any kitchen.

"All right, listen up, people!" Jack stepped straight into the captain's role and began assigning tasks.

"I'm captain. Jessica, you've got experience — you handle coordination on mains and the pass. Sarah, you take appetizers and burgers. Mia, dessert's yours. Owen, you're fast — you handle all the vegetable prep and salads. As for you…" His eyes landed on Chris, with a trace of scrutiny and uncertainty.

"You just… take all the sauces. Black pepper, lemon butter, and the wing sauce. They matter. Don't screw them up." It was a position that looked important but was, in fact, marginalized. Sauce mattered, but during the rush a sauce cook stood far from the core grill and sauté stations, unable to take part in the most frantic part of service — more like logistical support. Jack plainly didn't trust Chris and was unwilling to put him at a key station that could decide service speed. Chris raised no objection.

He only nodded.

"No problem." It was exactly the position he wanted. One that let him see the whole picture without being completely trapped by any single station's work. And just then, the system chime finally sounded in his head. [Ding! Hidden quest triggered!] [Quest name: "Blue Team's Victory."] [Objective: lead Blue Team to win this restaurant-takeover round.] [Phased sub-quest (1): during dinner service, keep team success rate (orders rated four stars or above / total orders) above 90%.] [Reward:???] [Failure penalty: system enters one month of dormancy; all functions disabled.] Chris's heart jolted. A 90% success rate? In a dinner service this intense, it was a near-impossible task. Even a professional kitchen would struggle to guarantee a rating that high. Worse, the failure penalty was a month of system dormancy. It meant that if he lost, he'd lose his greatest crutch for the critical rounds ahead. The system was forcing him.

Forcing him to stop thinking only of self-preservation and observation, to stand up and take control of everything. Chris raised his head and glanced at Jack, directing his teammates in high spirits, then at Ethan across the way, whose Red Team had already begun prepping in good order. He knew this fight would be far harder than he'd imagined.