Chương 81: Hell Week: The First Fight Is the Final Fight

Early the next morning, the five contestants were gathered to the center of the studio. Everyone carried a trace of exhaustion, but their eyes were full of wariness. They knew that the closer the competition came to the end, the crueler the rules would grow. Gareth Vane stood before them, his expression graver than ever.

"Good morning, chefs." His voice was low and strong.

"First, congratulations—you've made the national top five of Burning Kitchen Season Ten. Every one of you has come through trial by fire, and proven you have the right to stand here." He paused, his sharp gaze sweeping over every face.

"But having the right to stand here doesn't mean having the right to win. Starting today, the competition enters this season's cruelest, most relentless, most utterly inhuman phase—'Hell Week.'" Hell Week? The contestants exchanged glances, unease showing on every face.

"Over the next three days," Vane held up three fingers, "you'll go through three completely different elimination rounds. One a day. Each day, the loser will, that same day, take off the apron and leave the kitchen, on the spot."

"In other words, three days from now, out of you five, only two will remain to enter the championship finale." The rule blew through the five of them like a heavy bomb. Three days, three people cut! It meant that from today, every round was a life-or-death battle. No buffer, no margin for error. Lose, and it was over. The color drained from Marcus's face in an instant; Jack's breathing turned ragged. Even the ever-composed Ethan saw his pupils contract, just slightly.

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"Now, begin your first Hell Week challenge." Vane turned aside and pointed at a station nearby draped in black cloth.

"Under this cloth is today's test." He yanked the cloth away, revealing what lay beneath. Five plates, each holding several large, plump, fresh scallops. Beside them, fresh peas and mint.

"Pan-seared scallops with pea purée and mint oil." Vane read out the name slowly.

"This is one of the most classic, most popular signature dishes in my restaurant." Every heart sank. Recreate Gareth Vane's signature dish! This was hell within hell! Everyone knew Vane's demands on the heat of a scallop had reached the level of the near-pathological. He'd once eliminated the sous-chef of a three-Michelin-star restaurant, on the show, over a single slightly overcooked scallop. The dish looked simple, with no flashy technique at all. But what it tested was the purest, most solid fundamentals.

The surface of the scallop had to form a perfect, caramelized Maillard crust, the color like gold. And the inside had to be translucent, the texture like jelly, just set over from raw. A second too long and the flesh toughened. A second too short and the center was still raw. That ultimate command of heat was the watershed dividing an excellent cook from a top master. In Chris's mind, the system's analysis report on Vane's taste preferences surfaced at once. [Gareth Vane — Preference Analysis (excerpt)] [... Tolerance for seafood heat: extremely low (E-). Particularly detests overcooked scallops, shrimp, and lobster, which he describes as "eating a rubber tire." Has lost his temper over scallop-heat issues on the show 17 times...] A thread of cold sweat broke out down Chris's back. He knew this dish was, for him, a true test. His edges were in learning ability, tactical strategy, and data analysis.

But in a field that tested pure "hand skill" and muscle memory, a half-trained "programmer cook" like him stood at a born disadvantage against an Ethan who'd been steeped in kitchens since childhood, a classically trained elite. This dish didn't test creativity, didn't test strategy, didn't test plating. It tested only one thing—exactly how deep your understanding of heat ran.

"You have ninety minutes to recreate this dish perfectly." Vane glanced at his watch.

"You'll make your own pea purée and mint oil, but the final standard of judgment is just one thing—the doneness of the scallop."

"Now, back to your stations. The competition begins—now!" The five contestants returned quickly to their places. The kitchen fell silent, nothing left but the ticking of the started countdown. Chris stood at his station, looking at the few crystal-clear scallops in front of him. They were like five time bombs, ready to blow him to pieces at any moment. The first day of Hell Week. The first fight was the final fight.