By 2:00 PM on the second day, the "Bistro Royale" wasn't just a success—it was a phenomenon. A line of hungry visitors stretched down the hallway, past the chemistry lab and toward the gymnasium. But success in a high school ecosystem always breeds a specific kind of envy.
Rika was checking the inventory levels for the final afternoon push when Sato ran into the prep area, his face pale.
"Shinozaki! Hanamachi! We have a problem," he gasped. "Class 3-C... they’re running a rival 'Maid and Butler' café downstairs, and their numbers are tanking. One of my friends just overheard them. They’re planning something."
"Planning what, Sato-kun?" Rika asked, her eyes never leaving her ledger. "The laws of economics? They can't force people to like their lukewarm tea."
"No," Rentaro said, appearing from the dining area, his eyes narrowed. "They’re going for the supply chain. Look at the delivery schedule."
The school festival used a centralized refrigerator in the basement for all perishable goods. To save space in the classrooms, each booth kept only an hour's worth of milk and cream on hand, restocking periodically.
"Our next dairy and egg pickup was scheduled for five minutes ago," Rentaro continued. "I sent Kenji down, but he just texted. The 3-C 'enforcers' are blocking the fridge access. They’re claiming there’s a 'sanitation leak' and won't let anyone in or out."
Rika’s pen snapped in her hand. "That’s not a leak. That’s a blockade. If we don't get that cream, we can't fulfill the orders for the signature soufflés. We’ll have to shut down our highest-margin item right at peak hour."
"And if we shut down, the 'Best Booth' award goes to 3-C by default because they have the highest remaining stock," Sato groaned. "It’s a sabotage."
Rika looked at Rentaro. The "7-Eleven" look was back—the cold, calculating focus they used when a delivery truck was three hours late and the shelves were bare.
"Rentaro," she said, her voice dropping to a low, commanding tone. "How fast can you get to the 7-Eleven on 4th Street and back?"
Rentaro checked his watch. "Ten minutes on the bike. Why?"
"Sato, give me the class fund cash box," Rika commanded. "We’re not going to the basement. We’re going to 'Outsource.' Rentaro, buy every carton of heavy cream and every dozen eggs they have in the back. Tell Tanaka-san I’ll cover the extra paperwork on our next shift."
"And what about the 'Student-Produced' rule?" Sato asked, worried.
"The cooking is student-produced," Rika countered, her eyes flashing. "The sourcing is just smart business. Now, go!"
While Rentaro vanished through the back exit, Rika stepped out onto the "floor." The atmosphere was starting to get restless. People were waiting, and the smell of cooking was fading.
Suddenly, a group of boys from Class 3-C—the same ones who had tried to bully Rentaro at the store—sauntered into the room. They didn't come to eat. They came to watch the collapse.
"Hey, Shinozaki," the leader sneered. "Smells a bit... empty in here. Running out of steam? Or did you finally realize you can't run a business on 'logic' alone?"
Rika didn't flinch. she picked up a pitcher of water and began refilling glasses with a calm, practiced grace. "We’re just recalibrating for the final rush. I’d suggest you go back to your own booth. I hear the 'Maid' outfits are attracting quite a few... flies."
"You’re done," the boy hissed, leaning over the counter. "The basement is locked. You've got ten minutes before your customers start asking for refunds."
"Nine minutes," Rika corrected, looking at the clock.
The tension in the room was palpable. The students of 3-A were looking at Rika, their confidence wavering. But then, the sound of a heavy engine roared in the school courtyard below.
A minute later, the back door burst open. Rentaro walked in, carrying two massive crates of professional-grade dairy and eggs, still chilled and sweating from the 7-Eleven freezer.
"Delivery for Bistro Royale," Rentaro announced, his voice booming. He walked right past the 3-C bullies, intentionally clipping the leader’s shoulder with the crate. "Move it, 'Butler.' Real workers are coming through."
The 3-A kitchen erupted in cheers. Kenji grabbed the cream, the whisks started humming again, and within minutes, the scent of caramelizing sugar filled the air.
Rika turned to the leader of 3-C, who was gaping at the crates. "In the convenience store world, we have a saying: 'The shelf must never be empty.' You tried to win by stopping us. We chose to win by outworking you."
"Now," she added, pointing toward the exit. "Unless you’re ordering the soufflé—which, by the way, just doubled in price for 3-C students—please clear the floor. You’re a fire hazard."
As the bullies retreated in humiliation, Rentaro wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and looked at Rika.
"Nice 'recalibration,' Shinozaki."
"Nice 'logistics,' Rentaro."
They didn't have time to celebrate. The orders were piling up, and the final hour of the festival was about to begin. But as they dove back into the chaos, they both knew: the "Best Booth" wasn't just about the money. It was about the team that wouldn't break.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWHDaXCYPta
and then Add to home screen.