The elite students were rather unwelcoming, some egotistical, always discussing politics and topics the four of them had no idea what they were. The hell was an Anzimous Theorem? Ianus Quadrifrons? The council understood their disliking for it. Instead, they were invited to the Grand Pâtisserie event.
The Grand Pâtisserie was a fairly new establishment, though it attracted many customers. The finest of sweets, the greatest of chefs, an atmosphere of joy. This event would include their newest and apparently, best sweets of all time. Unmatched, delicious. Absolutely addicting they said. And with the council covering it the four wouldn't have to pay anything.
It felt like forever since Rene last went to Clairvielle, the capital of Valmérien. He rarely went out of the academy, maybe only visiting about three to four times ever since he graduated. Now, standing amidst the lively streets, he found himself momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer energy of the city. The Grand Pâtisserie, a towering establishment adorned with golden accents and pristine glass windows, was the center of today's excitement. A crowd had gathered in front of its grand double doors, their anticipation clear. Then, with a chime, the doors swung open.
"Bienvenue à la Grand Pâtisserie! Please present your invitations or insignias upon entry."
The moment they stepped past the doors, they were greeted by a decadent interior. Chandeliers shined the marble floors in warm light, and tables were already arranged with a display of colorful foods. Velvet-lined booths and polished counters framed the main hall, where waiters carried out silver trays stacked with delicate pastries.
Nihara, standing near one of the displays, hesitated for the briefest moment. Her senses caught onto something—an odd undertone beneath the sweetness. Her fingers brushed against one of the éclairs as she frowned slightly, narrowing her eyes. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was... different. And yet, as she took a bite, all thought vanished. Her lips parted in silent awe, and a shiver of delight ran down her spine. The pastry melted in her mouth, full with flavor more divine than anything she had ever tasted.
Around her, others were already indulging, eyes widening with each bite. The Grand Pâtisserie had promised the greatest sweets of all time. And from the looks of it, they weren't lying. A man stood at the front of the stage, yelling to get everyone's attention.
"Attention, everyone! Please find a seat. I will introduce our five great pâtissiers!"
The curtains behind the announcer parted, revealing five figures standing in immaculate white uniforms, each adorned with different embellishments marking their areas of expertise. The first to step forward was a woman with brown hair coiled into a bun.
"First, we have Maitre Noire, our chocolatier, whose hand can craft even the most volatile ingredients into a masterpiece."
Maitre Noire gave a slight nod.
"Next, the maestro of delicate confections, Julien Duret! His pastries are said to dissolve on the tongue like fleeting dreams—an artist of sugar and perfection."
Julien stepped forward, waving at the crowd with his eyes closed yet with a grand smile.
The third was a towering man with a scar tracing down his cheek, his arms folded. "Lucien Devries, our master of viennoiserie. He is a sculptor of dough and butter, able to fold thousands of layers with absolute precision."
A young woman shifted her weight, leaning against the counter with grace. "And this is Élise, our prodigy in plated desserts and presentation. Every dish she creates is a masterpiece, designed not only to delight but to captivate."
Finally, the announcer's tone took on a reverence that had not been present before. "And last, our esteemed executive pâtissier, Auguste Marceaux. His blade, much like his technique, is unmatched. No one carves finer detail into his work."
The final chef stepped forward. His long pastry knife gleamed as he effortlessly spun it between his fingers before resting it atop his forearm in a seamless motion.
"Now, let the tasting begin!" The announcer's voice snapped the room back to life as applause filled the hall.
Rene exhaled slowly. For some reason, watching them work sent a strange feeling through his gut. Their skills were beyond anything he had ever heard of. How does a person become so skilled? How many times did Auguste practice that trick? Or did it just come to him naturally? As he watched, Nihara was stuffing her face full of macarons. Mikael was observing the sweets. Yara was talking to the other guests. Rene turned his head just in time to see Mikael set his fork down. He hadn't taken a single bite. His gaze was fixed on the sweets in front of him, brows furrowed.
"You're not eating?" Rene asked.
Mikael didn't respond right away. Instead, he picked up a delicate glass of dessert wine and swirled it. "Something's strange."
"Strange how?"
"The presentation, the texture, the balance—it's all perfect. Too perfect. Almost as if it was designed to be irresistible."
"That's the whole point, isn't it?" Yara leaned in, overhearing their conversation. "They're the best pâtissiers in Valmérien. They're supposed to be perfect."
"Perfection doesn't exist. Yet, here it is, in every bite."
Rene frowned. He wasn't sure if Mikael was overthinking it, or if there was something genuinely off. Nihara didn't seem bothered—if anything, she looked like she had ascended to another plane of existence with how much she was enjoying herself.
"Maybe you're just not used to luxury." Yara teased.
Mikael didn't argue.
At the front of the hall, Auguste stepped forward again, smiling as he surveyed the room. "It brings me great joy to see our honored guests enjoying themselves. We, the five great patissiers of Clairvielle, have worked tirelessly to create the most exquisite confections for this grand occasion. But, dear guests, our night is far from over."
The lights dimmed slightly, and a hush settled over the crowd. A single silver tray was brought forth, covered with a cloth.
"For the final course, we present a creation never before seen in Valmérien. A dessert crafted with the rarest ingredients, its recipe known only to us. We call it L'extase Divine—the Divine Ecstasy."
A server lifted the cloth.
The dessert revealed was unlike anything Rene had ever seen. A shimmering glaze coated its surface, reflecting like polished glass. even from a distance. Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Nihara blinked, momentarily pausing her feast. Even she, with all her enthusiasm, hesitated.
Auguste's smile didn't falter. "Please, enjoy."
The servers moved swiftly, placing plates in front of each guest. Mikael stared at his plate but made no move to touch it. Rene picked up his fork. He pressed the fork into it. It was magnificent, utterly flawless. The other guests faces were overtaken with bliss. Too much bliss.