The imperial capital at night glittered as though a jewelry box had been overturned.

A sea of light spread out below.

Red, blue, gold.

Countless artificial lights twinkled like stars fallen to the earth.

Looking down upon it all—Sumeragi Foods Headquarters Building, the top-floor president’s office.

I raised my favorite Baccarat glass to the moonlight.

The liquid shimmering inside the heavy crystal glass was a vintage rouge as dark as blood.

A top-grade Pinot Noir worth several hundred thousand yen per bottle.

“…A toast.”

In the silent, empty room, I lifted the glass slightly.

Clink—the hard sound of my nail striking the glass was swallowed by the vast space.

This was not a celebratory drink.

Nor was it mere drowning of sorrows.

This was a sacred ritual, mine alone, to savor the taste of defeat.

I took a sip.

A rich aroma and silky-smooth astringency danced an elegant waltz across my tongue.

Perfect aging.

Perfect storage.

And yet.

Compared to the shock of that ‘gold’ I tasted earlier today, even this supreme wine paled into nothing more than tinted water.

“…Ah, honestly!”

I slammed the glass roughly onto the mahogany desk and let out a heated sigh.

When I closed my eyes, the image returned vividly behind my lids.

That man—Akutsu Jō—swinging his wok with that ferocious aura.

The heat of the venue.

The scorching warmth of the rising flames.

And the overwhelming scent of ‘male’ power radiating from him.

Every muscle in his body writhed with motion, bulging veins pulsed and even the sweat scattering from him sparkled like diamonds.

Each time he flipped the wok, thousands of grains of rice danced like living creatures, tracing golden parabolas.

It was not cooking—something domestic and gentle.

It was ‘hunting’.

Hunting the prey called ingredients, taming the ferocious beast called fire and dominating those who would eat.

Primitive, barbaric, yet irresistibly captivating—a torrent of raw power.

“…It’s frustrating, but it was a complete defeat.”

I rose unsteadily and stared at my reflection in the window.

My face floating against the night view.

My cheeks were flushed.

My eyes moist.

My lips trembled as if from unsatisfied desire.

I knew better than anyone that this wasn’t just from the alcohol.

Our company’s proud development team—Team Spice.

They were excellent.

My cherished minds.

Nutritional balance, cost calculations and the golden ratio of flavor that anyone would call ‘delicious’.

In every respect, they produced the perfect, one-hundred-point correct answer.

As a major corporation entrusted with food, it was a correct and proper stance.

But that man scoffed at such ‘correctness’.

Full? Who cares! Let me eat what’s right in front of me!

An overwhelming ego that ignored logic and nutritional science alike.

A violent flavor that struck the brain’s pleasure center directly, without reason.

Those one hundred children.

Innocent and cruel angels who knew no restraint.

The sight of them losing all reason and licking their plates was burned into my eyes.

Words like ‘I’m full’ vanished from the world at that moment.

They simply devoured the gold before them.

That wasn’t ‘a meal’.

It was ‘submission’.

Everyone present offered up their stomachs and knelt before the ‘Demon King’ named Akutsu Jō.

And among them… was myself.

“…How barbaric. How crude.”

I hugged my own upper arm and shivered.

A contradictory sensation ran through me—something cold racing up my spine while deep in my lower abdomen a heat bloomed.

“…And yet, what beautiful violence…”

It sent shivers through me.

To think I might want to be ‘cooked’ like that myself—an indecent, immoral fantasy unbefitting the head of a corporation flashed through my mind.

The fried rice he made was hot, greasy, strongly flavored—everything opposite to my beliefs.

A brown mass of carbohydrates with not a hint of refinement.

And yet, it was delicious.

Frustratingly so—filled with an irresistible allure that made every cell in my body cry out in joy.

It felt as though the ‘refined mask’ within my body was melting away, liquefied by oil and heat.

“And then… that demand.”

I drained the remaining wine in one go.

The alcohol burned down my throat and sank into my stomach.

The victorious Akutsu-sama had declared it boldly.

I have only one wish!

I braced myself.

Management rights.

A vast sum of money.

Or perhaps… myself.

But what came from his mouth was none of those vulgar demands.

Make brown food that I can eat and be satisfied with—for me.

No—such social pretenses were only incidental in his words.

His essence was far more primal, a pure desire.

He commanded us to act solely for ‘himself’.

“…What arrogance.”

I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my lips.

The woman in the mirror was grinning shamelessly.

“To devote all my technology, all my resources and thousands of employees… solely to fill the stomach of a single man.”

Wasn’t that, beyond a business contract, effectively a ‘contract of servitude’?

Or perhaps a profoundly twisted, possessive form of courtship.

Turn your entire company into my personal chef.

That was what it amounted to.

To me, the president of a corporation envied worldwide—he ordered me to don an apron and stand in the kitchen.

“Fufu… fufufu… Magnificent.”

I spun around and collapsed into the leather executive chair.

I gazed up at the ceiling.

Not the cold glare of fluorescent lights, but the soft glow of indirect lighting gently enveloped my flushed body.

Very well.

I accept your challenge, Akutsu-sama.

If you lament that it’s ‘not enough,’ then I will marshal ingredients and science from around the world to satisfy that bottomless desire of yours.

Fat?

Carbohydrates?

Calories?

Such healthy and tedious numbers can be fed into a shredder and given to a dog.

What you seek is ‘hearty food’—a sinful taste that makes the brain go numb the instant you eat it.

With my finest technology, I will make you gain weight, corrupt you and turn you into someone who cannot live without my cooking.

“The project name shall be… let’s see—‘Demon King’s Provisions 'Satan’s Dinner''? Or perhaps something more direct: ‘Akutsu 'My Lord''?”

I refined one outrageous idea after another—ideas that would make the product development department faint if they heard them.

Just imagining it made dopamine overflow.

The ‘collaboration’ with him that was about to begin.

Secret rendezvous in the prototype kitchen.

Guidance of love disguised as scolding.

He would devour my prototypes and grin, saying Not bad.

And I would wipe the sauce from his lips with my finger…

Ah, what a sweet future—

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

At that moment, slicing through the silence, a smartphone vibrated atop the heavy desk.

The inorganic vibration cracked my world of fantasies.

Who could it be at this hour?

It had to be past two in the morning.

My secretary?

The head of development?

Or perhaps the shareholders were raising a fuss over today’s defeat.

How tasteless.

To interrupt the afterglow like this—perhaps I should fire them all.

I reached out languidly and peered at the phone screen.

The name displayed there was—Akutsu Jō

“—Hyah!?”

A strange sound escaped me.

My throat seized and an embarrassingly shrill noise leaked out.

My heart leapt as if it would kick through my ribs from the inside.

“A-A-Akutsu-sama!?”

Why?

Why you?

We just parted at the venue.

Did he forget something?

Or was this an additional order—Actually, hand over the company rights too.

No—surely not… I wanted to hear your voice?!

“C-calm down, Reiko. You are the Empress. The leader who commands tens of thousands of employees. Inhale—exhale…”

I took a deep breath.

The late-night office.

No one was watching.

Even the security cameras were turned off.

Still, I desperately smoothed my disheveled bangs with my fingers at my reflection in the window.

I slapped my wine-flushed cheeks with both hands to steel myself.

Straightened my collar.

Pulled my back straight.

Even knowing he couldn’t see me, a maiden’s heart compelled me to do so.

My voice.

The voice mattered.

Not the usual authoritative president’s tone.

But not overly coy either.

A voice full of benevolence, with just a hint of vulnerability—charming!

Bzzz. Bzzz.

The trembling phone looked like a time bomb.

If I didn’t answer soon, it would cut off.

Impatience shook my reason.

With trembling fingers, I touched the call button.

The green icon slid.

Connected.

I held my breath for just a moment and cleared my throat.

Then I crafted the perfect voice—two octaves higher than usual, exquisitely sweet, yet without losing dignity.

“…Yes, Akutsu-sama?”