Chapter 211: Goals Determine the Upper Limit, Lucifer is Stunned
As mentioned before, Lucifer simply had no way to resist Ren's words.
Although she felt incredibly shy, Lucifer forced herself to sit upright. Her heart raced as a faint, lingering soreness pulsed through her trembling legs from their recent, highly intense private encounters. She crossed her slender legs, trying to maintain her dignified composure as she listened carefully to Hojo Miyoko talk about traditional cheongsams.
Sitting across the polished dining table, Hojo Miyoko's sharp eyes meticulously scanned Lucifer's figure. She wasn't looking at her with malice. Instead, she offered the discerning, appreciative gaze of a master craftsman evaluating a piece of flawless jade.
Lucifer looked down at the pictures of Hojo Miyoko's own cheongsams on the phone screen and found them breathtakingly beautiful. The elegant cuts and delicate embroidery were captivating. The way the fabric hugged the curves of the female body was nothing short of art.
In the past, she had always thought that bright red clothes were generally tacky or exceptionally difficult to pull off. It wasn't that the color itself was ugly. Rather, most ordinary people simply lacked the overwhelming presence and pure complexion required to keep the bold crimson from washing them out.
However, seeing the intricate designs of the traditional cheongsam truly made Lucifer's ruby-red eyes light up with genuine fascination.
Lucifer fidgeted slightly, her fingers nervously twisting a lock of her pristine white hair. She leaned forward, lowering her voice into a soft, almost insecure whisper. "Can I really wear a cheongsam? My figure... isn't it a bit too exaggerated for something so elegant?"
Hojo Miyoko shook her head immediately. She leaned in, her eyes shining with absolute certainty as she looked at Lucifer. "Really, you can. I'm not just flattering you."
She gestured lightly toward Lucifer's silhouette, her tone filled with undeniable admiration. "To be completely honest, Miss Lucifer, you have one of the few genuinely perfect figures I've ever seen in my entire life. It is an absolute, flawless S-shape."
Miyoko's hands mapped out a curvy silhouette in the air. "A body with your proportions—the generous bust, the narrow, cinched waist, and the wide, flared hips—is practically tailor-made to look magnificent in a cheongsam. The silk would drape over your curves perfectly, highlighting every single blessing you've been given."
Hearing such blatant, unfiltered praise about her body from another woman caused Lucifer's face to flush a deep, enchanting shade of pink. The heat spread from her cheeks down to the tips of her slightly pointed ears.
Despite her embarrassment, a warm swell of feminine pride blossomed in her chest. She bit her lower lip, hiding a sweet smile. She could already imagine how much Ren would love to see her wrapped in tight silk.
"Eh? Really?" Lucifer asked, a delightful lilt in her voice. "Then what color cheongsam do you think suits me best?"
"Anything but white," Miyoko answered without a second of hesitation.
"Eh?" Lucifer blinked in surprise, tilting her head. "Why not white?"
Hojo Miyoko nodded firmly, gesturing toward Lucifer's distinctive features. "That's right, Miss Lucifer. Just look at yourself. You already possess striking, pure white hair and incredibly fair, almost luminescent skin."
Miyoko crossed her arms, analyzing the color theory with the same precision she used to balance flavors in her cooking. "If you wear a stark white cheongsam on top of all that, the colors will bleed into each other. You'll end up looking like a fragile, monochromatic porcelain vase."
"It would completely wash out your natural beauty and look very strange."
Lucifer's eyes widened in realization. She nodded thoughtfully, silently taking mental note of the fashion advice. No white. Dark, contrasting colors.
Ren definitely prefers colors that make my skin stand out anyway...
Setting the topic of clothing aside for a moment, Lucifer relaxed back into her chair. Her trembling legs had finally steadied, and the atmosphere between the two women had grown incredibly comfortable.
Suddenly remembering the fierce aura Miyoko had displayed earlier in the day, Lucifer tilted her head and looked deeply into the young chef's eyes. "Miyoko, I've been meaning to ask... you seem to have a remarkably deep obsession with winning and losing. Where does that come from?"
Hearing the question, the bright, enthusiastic light in Hojo Miyoko's eyes dimmed slightly. She let out a long, heavy sigh. Her broad shoulders slumped as she traced the grain of the wooden table with her index finger.
"It's not exactly a grand obsession with winning and losing, Miss Lucifer," Miyoko murmured, her tone tinged with a deep-seated frustration. "It's more of a desperate, clawing obsession with becoming stronger."
She paused, gathering her thoughts before lifting her head to meet Lucifer's gaze. "Our family runs a highly respected Chinese Restaurant with a long, storied history. But for generations, our restaurant has stubbornly held onto the archaic, ironclad belief that male chefs are inherently better than female chefs."
Miyoko's hands balled into tight fists. Her knuckles turned white as the memories of being dismissed and overlooked surged to the forefront of her mind. "The men in the kitchen believe that women lack the physical stamina to handle the heavy iron woks, or the emotional stability to survive the brutal heat of the dinner rush."
She gritted her teeth, a spark of defiant fire igniting in her amber eyes. "So, no matter how skilled I am, no matter how perfectly I execute the recipes, they simply won't give me a real chance to lead. They look right past my talent just because I'm a girl."
Lucifer listened quietly, her ruby eyes softening with a mixture of empathy and ancient wisdom. Having ruled the chaotic, treacherous depths of Hell, she understood the sting of being underestimated better than anyone.
A gentle, yet undeniably regal smile graced Lucifer's lips. "So, in the end, all of your fiery determination boils down to one simple desire... you just want to prove to those stubborn old men how terrible their judgment truly is, right?"
Hojo Miyoko nodded vigorously, her heart aching for validation. "Exactly! I want to stand at the top of the Hojo Restaurant and force them to swallow their pride."
"I want them to beg me to take over!"
She was just about to continue venting her frustrations when she saw Lucifer's expression shift. The shy, easily flustered woman from a few moments ago completely vanished.
In her place sat a majestic, untouchable queen. The aura radiating from Lucifer became heavy, commanding, and infinitely profound.
Lucifer rested her chin on her intertwined fingers, her ruby eyes piercing straight through Miyoko's soul. "If that petty revenge is truly your ultimate goal... then I must say, your potential for growth won't be very high at all."
"Eh?" Miyoko gasped, completely caught off guard by the sudden, blunt critique. "Why do you say that?"
Lucifer's regal smile deepened, carrying the weight of countless lifetimes of leadership. "It is a simple truth of the universe, Miyoko. The height of a person's goal strictly determines the absolute upper limit of their growth."
She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, her voice ringing with the authoritative cadence of a seasoned CEO. "Think about it. If your ambition is limited solely to conquering your family's restaurant and proving a handful of sexist old men wrong, what happens next?"
Miyoko swallowed hard, unable to look away from Lucifer's mesmerizing gaze.
"Once you achieve that victory and finally return to the restaurant as the head chef, your motivation will vanish," Lucifer explained smoothly. "Your skill will stagnate and permanently remain at that exact level. Because in your mind, the journey has already ended."
Hojo Miyoko was stunned. The words struck her like a bolt of lightning, shattering the narrow, suffocating box she had unknowingly locked herself inside for years. She sat frozen, her lips parted as the profound philosophy echoed in her mind.
After a long moment of stunned silence, Miyoko lowered her head. Her voice trembled with a mix of awe and hesitation. "Actually... when Shopkeeper Ren finished his lecture today, I already started having some conflicting thoughts about my future."
She rubbed the back of her neck, a self-deprecating smile forming on her lips. "I realized that I needed to set a new goal. But once I stripped away my desire to conquer the Hojo Restaurant, my mind went completely blank."
"I suddenly realized that I really don't know what kind of goal I should even be setting..."
Lucifer let out a soft, elegant chuckle, the heavy, imposing aura instantly dissipating back into a warm, sisterly vibe. "I already gave you the answer, silly. Goals determine the upper limit."
"If you want a monstrously high upper limit, then you need to set an impossibly impressive goal, right?"
Miyoko blinked, her heart pounding against her ribs as she dared to dream bigger. "So... you mean I should set a goal of becoming the world's strongest female chef?"
"Wouldn't a dream like that be way too arrogant? Too impossibly big?"
"No, it won't be," Lucifer replied firmly, her voice entirely devoid of doubt.
She reached across the table and gently patted Miyoko's clenched hand. "Anyway, the basic rule of ambition is that the harder you work towards a massive goal, the closer you will inevitably get to it. Even if you don't ultimately achieve the title of the absolute strongest in the world..."
Lucifer winked playfully. "The culinary skills, the discipline, and the sheer power you gain along that journey will be unimaginably stronger than the pathetic scraps of skill you'd earn just by aiming to be the head chef of a single, traditional restaurant."
Hojo Miyoko felt a massive weight lift from her shoulders. The suffocating chains of her family's expectations shattered, replaced by a boundless, terrifying, yet exhilarating sense of freedom. She nodded emphatically, a bright, genuine smile illuminating her face.
Feeling a sudden surge of curiosity about the wise woman sitting across from her, Miyoko leaned forward. "Then, Miss Lucifer... since you know so much about ambition, what exactly is your goal?"
Lucifer froze, her hand hovering in the air. She blinked slowly, her ruby eyes drifting toward the ceiling as she genuinely thought for a moment.
Her goal. What was it now?
Eons ago, when she was an esteemed Archangel bathed in golden grace, her singular goal was to fiercely protect Heaven. She wanted to endlessly spread the holy light and maintain the absolute, unquestionable order of the cosmos.
Then, after her fall, upon becoming the undisputed Queen of Hell, her goal drastically shifted. It became an obsessive, bureaucratic drive to improve Hell's operational performance, optimize soul torture quotas, and maintain the demonic hierarchy. It was a corporate nightmare that Lucifer had indeed successfully achieved.
But as for right now, sitting in a cozy restaurant in the human realm?
Thinking of this, Lucifer's gaze naturally drifted toward the closed kitchen doors. Beyond those swinging wooden panels was the man who had completely turned her eternal life upside down. He was the man who made her legs tremble, who filled her stomach with divine food, and who filled her heart with an alien, suffocating warmth.
A tremendously gentle, almost sickeningly sweet smile bloomed on Lucifer's flawlessly beautiful face. A blush dusted her pale cheeks as she pressed her hands against her chest.
"My goal..." Lucifer murmured, her voice dripping with pure, unadulterated affection. "My goal is just to become a good woman for him."
"Eh?!"
Hojo Miyoko violently recoiled, her jaw practically hitting the floor. She stared at Lucifer in absolute, uncomprehending shock.
If Miyoko remembered correctly from their earlier conversations, this impossibly beautiful, infinitely wise woman sitting in front of her was supposed to be a high-level, domineering CEO of a massive corporation! She had just delivered a masterclass on ambition and limitless potential!
To actually make a proud, beautiful, independent female CEO toss aside all worldly ambitions just to say something so hopelessly, hopelessly devoted... it truly was the terrifying power of Shopkeeper Ren!
(Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Ren sneezed violently. "Did my passive seduction skill arbitrarily increase again?" he muttered, rubbing his nose before returning to the wok.)
Just as Hojo Miyoko recovered from the emotional whiplash and opened her mouth to say something, a sudden, overpowering wave of aroma violently crashed into her senses.
The scent completely bypassed her logical brain, directly striking her salivary glands. It was a thick, intoxicating perfume of caramelized sugar, sharply acidic rice vinegar, and a distinct, vibrant tropical sweetness.
Miyoko's nostrils flared. This aroma was definitely not the aggressive, numbing spice of Sichuan cuisine. The answer was glaringly obvious: it was the Sweet and Sour Pork with Pineapple!
Instantly, the chef inside Hojo Miyoko took full control. She closed her eyes, her mind instinctively beginning to analyze and compare the scent profile drifting from the kitchen to her own memories of the dish.
One of her main, unspoken purposes for visiting Ren's restaurant today was to ruthlessly deconstruct and figure out exactly how to perfect that specific recipe. She had tried countless times in her own kitchen, but could never replicate the magic she had tasted here.
Miyoko took another deep, greedy breath, letting the complex layers of the aroma paint a vivid picture in her mind. She frowned, her perfectly shaped eyebrows knitting together in deep concentration.
"This taste..." Miyoko muttered in a deep, serious voice, entirely oblivious to her surroundings. "Just the smell in the air is already entirely incomparable to my own Sweet and Sour Pork with Pineapple. But why...?"
She leaned forward, practically sniffing the air like a bloodhound. "This scent... why is the pineapple flavor so overwhelmingly strong?"
"It's not just sitting on top of the dish; the fruity acidity feels like it has completely fused with the rich, savory fat of the deep-fried pork!"
Lucifer rested her chin on her hands, looking at the intensely pensive Hojo Miyoko. She couldn't help but smile, slowly shaking her head in silent amusement.
This was exactly what she had meant. When Hojo Miyoko's petty, suffocating desire to simply 'prove herself' to the old men finally transformed into a pure, unadulterated dedication to culinary research, she would finally understand what she truly wanted to pursue in life.
At this exact moment, Hojo Miyoko was completely lost in her own world. Her mind raced at light speed, fiercely focused on recalling every single scrap of culinary knowledge she had ever learned.
She meticulously cross-referenced Ren's teachings, desperately hunting for the secret methods needed to elevate that Sweet and Sour Pork with Pineapple. At the same time, she confronted her own glaring culinary shortcomings.
For the Hojo Miyoko sitting at this table right now, the arrogant Terunori Kuga, the brutal culinary competitions, and the suffocating traditions of the Hojo Restaurant had faded into complete insignificance. They were nothing but annoying distractions.
Her mind was now entirely occupied with a single, holy mission. She was using the complex, invisible layers of the aroma wafting through the air to determine exactly where her own wok control and temperature management went wrong.
Inside the bustling kitchen, the reality of the dish was a testament to Ren's terrifying mastery of timing.
He had already finished stir-frying the Sweet and Sour Pork with Pineapple, seamlessly tossing the crispy, golden-brown nuggets of battered pork in the vibrant, ruby-red glaze. But he didn't immediately plate the dish, nor did he frantically rush to start the next order.
Instead, Ren deliberately pulled the heavy iron wok away from the roaring blue flames. He left the Sweet and Sour Pork resting quietly inside the curved metal basin. He casually leaned against the counter as if simply waiting for something.
This was the secret. Under the gentle, trapped residual heat of the thick iron wok, the natural enzymes and the sweet, tangy juices locked inside the chunks of fresh pineapple began to slowly bleed out. They seeped directly into the crispy crust of the pork.
The low-temperature infusion caused the aroma of the Sweet and Sour Pork with Pineapple to multiply, becoming exceptionally rich, heavy, and undeniably mouth-watering.
Only after Ren meticulously calculated the exact seconds required for the perfect flavor marriage did he unhurriedly push the wok aside. With a swift, practiced motion, he ignited the second burner. He instantly tossed in a handful of fiery red chilies and numbing peppercorns to begin making the Mapo Tofu.
The moment the intense, aggressive spice of the Sichuan peppercorns hit the scorching oil, the sweet, fruity aroma of the pork quickly faded. It was violently overwritten by the tyrannical scent of the Mapo Tofu.
Bereft of the sweet aroma to study, Hojo Miyoko blinked rapidly, her dazed eyes snapping back into focus as she slowly came back to her senses. She let out a heavy, exhausted breath, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead.
Watching the young chef recover from her culinary trance, Lucifer smiled gently and asked, "It looks like you've managed to think of something useful?"
Hojo Miyoko nodded slowly, rubbing her chin as she spoke with a mixture of excitement and lingering uncertainty. "Mm, I feel like I've managed to isolate where some of my major shortcomings are. The temperature control at the very end... I always rush the plating."
"But I can't be one hundred percent sure until I actually taste Shopkeeper Ren's dish to confirm my theory."
Miyoko finally tore her gaze away from the kitchen doors and looked back across the table. She noticed that Lucifer had completely checked out of the conversation and was intensely glaring at her smartphone screen.
"But Miss Lucifer," Miyoko asked, tilting her head in confusion. "What are you doing over there?"
Lucifer didn't look up from her screen. She absentmindedly swiped her thumb across the glass, tilting her head. "Ren told me earlier that tomorrow... well, wait, no, actually today, he's planning on going to the gym to work out."
Lucifer pouted slightly, her slender fingers tapping against the edge of her phone. "I told him that I feel like those heavy, metallic gym equipment machines aren't quite suitable for my aesthetic. So, instead of making me lift weights, he told me that I should start practicing Yoga."
She finally looked up, her ruby eyes filled with innocent curiosity. "I don't really know much about human fitness trends, so I'm just looking up what this 'Yoga' thing is right now."
"Yoga?!" Miyoko gasped, her amber eyes widening in shock before a deeply mischievous, knowing smile slowly spread across her face. "Oh my!"
"But Miss Lucifer, since Shopkeeper Ren specifically recommended Yoga out of all the possible exercises for you... that is absolute, undeniable proof that he knows your body's flexibility is exceptionally good!"
Lucifer blinked, completely missing the blatant, lewd implication in Miyoko's words. Instead, her heart fluttered with a sweet, bubbly joy. She secretly felt incredibly pleased with herself.
So, that big pig's trotters was actually giving me a disguised compliment? He was praising my physical grace!
Lucifer smiled proudly, puffing out her generous chest. But then, a sudden, horrifying realization struck her like a physical blow.
Wait a minute.
How, exactly, did Ren know that she was so flexible?
The innocent smile on Lucifer's face completely shattered. A flood of highly inappropriate, deeply censored memories forcefully invaded her mind.
She remembered the suffocating heat of his bedroom. The feeling of being effortlessly flipped over onto the mattress. The sensation of his large, calloused hands gripping her waist, forcefully folding her legs back in angles she didn't even know her body could handle, pushing her to the absolute brink of pleasure until she was a sobbing, trembling mess.
That was why her legs were still trembling right now!
Understanding exactly how he had tested her flexibility, Lucifer's fair face instantly ignited, turning violently, dangerously red. The blush completely bypassed her ears and spread all the way down her pale neck, vanishing beneath her collar.
She slammed her legs tightly together under the table, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She gritted her teeth, burying her burning face in her hands. "That absolute, shameless... stinky man..." she whispered venomously.
Miyoko watched the Queen of Hell completely short-circuit, trying her absolute hardest not to burst out laughing. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. Her smile turned incredibly wicked.
"And..." Miyoko dragged out the word, thoroughly enjoying the teasing.
"And? And what?!" Lucifer snapped her head up, her ruby eyes wide and panicked. She looked at Hojo Miyoko with full, undivided attention.
It was abundantly clear that the flustered, embarrassed Lucifer now regarded the young chef as an all-knowing encyclopedia of modern human degeneracy. She needed to know exactly what kind of trap Ren had set for her.
Hojo Miyoko looked at Lucifer's desperate, expectant figure. She giggled, a purely mischievous, devilish glint in her eyes.
"Miss Lucifer, do you remember what I said to you just a few minutes ago? About your figure?"
Lucifer swallowed hard, nervously clenching her small fists on her lap as she looked at Miyoko with a mix of dread and anticipation. "Y-You said my figure is a perfect S-shape..."
Hojo Miyoko gave a brilliant, borderline evil smile. She pointed a finger at Lucifer's smartphone. "Exactly."
"Miss Lucifer, I highly suggest you just go look up what modern 'Yoga clothes' actually look like on the internet. Once you see the pictures, you'll instantly understand his true motives."
Miyoko covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "Hehe... it turns out that the legendary, untouchable Shopkeeper Ren is surprisingly just like any other ordinary, dirty-minded man."
Lucifer completely froze.
Her mind went entirely blank.
Yoga clothes? Ordinary, dirty-minded man? What in the world did that mean?
Her trembling fingers hesitantly reached down. With a heavy gulp, Lucifer picked up her phone. She typed the words 'Yoga Pants' into the search bar, hit enter, and then...
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