Chapter 57: Menchi's Emotional Intelligence
"The so-called Gourmet Hunters," Osren began, taking on the role of the calm explainer once again, "are Hunters who travel the world in search of rare ingredients and extraordinary dishes. They don't just chase after food — they create it. A true Gourmet Hunter isn't just a seeker of flavor; they're also among the finest chefs alive."
He said it smoothly, almost too smoothly — the kind of tone that came from long, deliberate study.
After all, Osren's dream wasn't just to become a Hunter. He wanted to be the most powerful and most well-connected Gourmet Hunter in history. That meant understanding his craft inside and out.
He'd spent countless nights secretly gathering information, poring over reports and fragments of culinary notes that most candidates could never access without a Hunter's license. Every bit of knowledge came hard-earned.
Aside from Menchi and Buhara, there were hardly any known Gourmet Hunters even in the official records. Osren made a mental note — once this test is over, I need to talk to Menchi directly. There's no better mentor.
He knew one thing for certain: in the Hunter world, examiners liked to take note of promising talents. If he could stand out during this phase, Menchi might just give him a reason to notice him — maybe even offer him guidance.
---
"You're absolutely right, Osren," Kurapika agreed, his composed tone carrying weight. "A Gourmet Hunter must also be an elite chef — one capable of turning the impossible into art."
Hanzo, arms crossed, frowned slightly. "So… if the examiners are Gourmet Hunters, then the test must have something to do with cooking?"
"Exactly," came Menchi's voice, bright and confident. "The second phase of the Hunter Exam will test your culinary skill."
---
For a moment, silence.
Then — a wave of confusion rolled through the crowd.
"Cooking?" someone muttered, disbelief coloring their voice. "Did I hear that right?"
Dozens of examinees who had clawed their way through the deadly marshes, traps, and monsters of the first test were now staring blankly at the petite woman before them — unable to process what they'd just heard.
The Hunter Exam… is testing us on cooking?
It felt like a joke — like a cruel trick after surviving hell.
"Tch! This is ridiculous!"
The shout came from a man in a purple outfit with a short braid — Tonpa, the self-proclaimed veteran of every Hunter Exam. His face twisted with outrage as he threw up his arms.
"We fight tooth and nail to get this far, and now we're supposed to play chef? What kind of absurd test is this!?"
Osren couldn't help but glance at him, unimpressed. Ah, there it is — classic panic from someone who's never cooked in his life.
He almost felt a little sympathy. Almost. After all, getting this far only to be eliminated for not knowing how to season food was the kind of absurdity that made you question the meaning of existence.
But before Tonpa could wind up for another complaint—
Menchi raised a slender finger and waved it slowly, her expression smooth and cold.
"If you're unhappy," she said lightly, "you're free to leave."
Her voice wasn't raised. It didn't need to be. The quiet authority in her tone made several candidates take an involuntary step back.
Tonpa froze mid-sentence, his mouth snapping shut as if someone had hit a mute button. His earlier bravado vanished instantly — replaced by the awkward shuffle of a man realizing he'd just insulted someone who could easily dismember him.
"If anyone else has objections," Menchi continued, her smile curving with dangerous sweetness, "you can turn around and leave right now. I won't stop you."
Her eyes, half-lidded and glinting with sharp amusement, swept across the crowd.
The examinees fell silent at once.
Because everyone knew — beneath that charming smile was a blade waiting to strike.
Menchi wasn't just passionate about cooking. She was obsessed. Questioning her art was as good as signing your own death certificate.
If this weren't the official exam, she probably would've literally turned the complainers into "ingredients."
Satisfied with the sudden hush, Menchi crossed her arms and gave a small nod.
"Good. Looks like we're done whining."
Her expression softened again, playful but focused — a chef's confidence returning to her face.
Now that she had everyone's attention, the real exam could begin.
Then, breaking the awkward tension, Osren politely raised his hand. "Excuse me, Examiner Menchi," he said with his best diplomatic smile, "may I ask what kind of dish we're supposed to prepare?"
It wasn't just curiosity — it was strategy.
If he could get her talking, maybe he could steer things away from a full-scale disaster.
The last thing anyone needed right now was to watch Tonpa get flattened by a woman half his size.
"What kind of dish?" Hanzo echoed, also intrigued. "Yeah, what are we cooking?"
"First," said Buhara, rubbing his enormous belly, "everyone will prepare the dish I've chosen."
His eyes practically sparkled — the man was clearly more excited about eating than examining.
"Only those who pass his test," Menchi continued smoothly, "will earn the right to prepare my chosen dish afterward. In other words—" she smiled, the corners of her lips curving like a cat's "—if both of us find your cooking delicious, you'll officially pass the Second Phase."
Her energy seemed to skyrocket the moment she started talking about food.
Unfortunately, there are always three things in life you can't stop:
Rain falling, brides marrying, and Tonpa saying something stupid.
Osren sighed inwardly. Here we go again.
Tonpa shot up like a boiling kettle, waving his arms wildly.
"What kind of nonsense is this!? Whether something tastes good or not depends on personal opinion! How can that possibly be fair?"
To his credit, it wasn't the dumbest thing he'd ever said — and it instantly stirred the crowd.
"Yeah! He's right!" a tall man in a blue wool hat shouted. "If we cook something we think is good, but it doesn't suit their taste, we're doomed anyway!"
Murmurs spread like wildfire.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"This isn't a cooking show!"
"Do they expect us to read their minds?"
"Is there at least a recipe!?"
Soon the entire clearing was buzzing with agitation.
Osren pinched the bridge of his nose. So much for keeping things calm.
---
He noticed Leorio's clenched fists twitching at his sides — the man looked ready to charge forward and argue his case.
"Leorio," Osren whispered quickly, tugging his sleeve. "Don't. Let's wait and see how this plays out. It's still the Hunter Exam — there's always a way out."
Leorio hesitated, then gave a stiff nod. "Alright. I'll trust you on this one."
And as expected, Osren was right.
Menchi rose slowly from her seat, stretching like a cat after a nap. With a soft clap clap clap of her hands, she drew everyone's attention back to her.
"Okay, okay," she said lazily. "Enough complaining. I already told you — anyone who doesn't like this test can go home. Right now. Go cook for yourselves. Bye~."
She gave a casual wave, her tone light and dismissive, as if shooing away an annoying waiter.
Osren sighed inwardly again. So much for emotional intelligence.
"For someone that gorgeous," he thought dryly, "her EQ is alarmingly low. Does she not realize that saying that is like waving a red flag at a pack of bulls?"
Sure enough, Leorio — who had been barely holding it together — snapped.
"What kind of crap is that?!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the field. "We've fought tooth and nail to get this far, and you think we're just gonna walk away!?"
He swung his arm for emphasis, trying to sound firm without crossing the line. Osren noticed — despite the anger, Leorio still remembered his warning. No rash moves.
And once Leorio broke the silence, the floodgates opened.
"Yeah!"
"She can't just dismiss us like that!"
"We've come too far to quit now!"
"This is insane!"
The noise swelled into chaos.
Of course, a few sharp-eyed candidates realized exactly who had caused this mess — and they didn't waste time seeking revenge.
"It's you! You're the one who started this, you loudmouthed idiot!" snarled a burly man, storming over to Tonpa and seizing him by the collar. "Because of your whining, we're about to get disqualified!"
Another examinee jumped in, shoving Tonpa from the other side. "Yeah! Keep flapping your mouth and you can walk back home alone!"
Even Hanzo, usually calm and composed, couldn't help muttering through clenched teeth, "Honestly, you're the reason we're in this mess. If anyone else starts yapping, they can just go home too!"
Osren folded his arms and watched the scene unravel like bad theater, shaking his head.
Some people have no sense of timing, he thought. And Menchi… for all her beauty, subtlety clearly isn't one of her ingredients.
Still — this was the Hunter Exam.
And if there was one rule Osren had learned so far, it was this:
When chaos breaks out, opportunity isn't far behind.
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