I squeezed my eyes shut beneath the blindfold, my body trembling. I couldn’t see what was happening, but the sounds painted a horrible picture. My knees buckled, but Jiro caught me and held me upright.
Iron Face shouted. He was near us. “Only the strong endure! Finish your task!”
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
“Thirty seconds left!”
Jiro’s grip tightened around me, and then, to my shock, he stopped moving entirely.
“Wait, why are we stopping? We won’t finish if we stop,” I said with panic.
“That’s the plan,” Jiro murmured, leaning in close. His body pressed firmly against mine, his breath warm against my ear. He spun me around with startling force before I could ask what he meant.
The sharp crack of the whip cut through the air, followed by Jiro’s cry of pain.
My body stiffened. He had shielded me.
With the final seconds ticking away, his arms remained wrapped around me like a protective cocoon. “Trust me, there’s no need to finish,” he whispered, his tone unsettlingly calm, as though he knew something I didn’t.
I felt his breath against my neck, steadying me one last time as the timer buzzed. And then, a fleeting sensation. So quick I almost doubted it. His lips grazed my neck.
My pulse raced.Did he just…kiss me?
I stood frozen as the blindfold was yanked off my head. The room spun into focus, blurred and disorienting. In front of me sat our single dragon fruit flower, perfectly plated. For a moment, I felt relieved until my gaze shifted to the carnage around me.
Blood was everywhere.
Sana clutched his arm, his hand hanging by a few tendons, blood pooling on the floor. Nearby, Osamu lay motionless in a spreading puddle of crimson, his neck slashed open. I couldn’t tell if he was alive or…gone.
My stomach knotted. The metallic scent, mixed with the sharp sting of bleach, made breathing unbearable. Other contestants nursed bloody welts from the whip, their faces strained. Kenji looked unscathed as he tended to a welt on Kaiyo’s back. Kaiyo appeared in great pain as Kenji dabbed a cloth napkin at it.
I turned to Jiro. “Are you okay?” I asked, noticing a welt along his neck.
“I got lucky,” he said with a strained smile. “My uniform absorbed most of the hit.”
Two men dressed in the familiar black uniforms and masks entered the room, their eyes expressionless. Without a word, they hauled Sana and Osamu away. I watched, horrified, as Osamu’s lifeless body left a trail of blood behind.
I scanned the table. Every team had completed one flower design—except Sana and Osamu. Did that mean the rest of us tied? Were they the losers by default?
The thought felt wrong. Sana and Osamu had been seriously injured. Osamu might even be dead. While my stomach turned, my mind stayed disturbingly focused on the challenge. I couldn’t forget why I was here. Letting go of that focus would only hurt me. I was already in too deep. I had to see this through, or everything I’d endured—the fear, the manipulation—would be for nothing.
Chef Sakamoto’s face remained unreadable. Was this par for the course in his apprenticeship program? His cold demeanor seemed immune to the chaos that had unfolded. And Reina, standing silently beside him, was just as detached. Did they not see the tragedy unfold with their very eyes? Without a word, they turned and left the kitchen.
Iron Face stepped forward, looking at us with pure disdain. “Another disgraceful showing for Chef Sakamoto,” he growled. “I don’t think any of you truly want this apprenticeship. Your efforts are pathetic.”
He snatched a plate from the table, a sunflower design, and held it up. “You think this is worthy of a Michelin-starred restaurant?”
With a swift motion, he hurled it against the wall, the porcelain shattering into pieces. Without waiting for a response, he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving us in blood-soaked silence.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kenji came running toward me just as I peeled the last of the duct tape from my wrists.
“Don’t worry, she was safe with me,” Jiro said, his voice full of smugness.
