The team moved through the Public Simmerium with their eyes darting toward everything they saw, absorbing the scene in quiet awe. Every single thing within the Simmerium seemed to possess meaning, as though nothing existed without purpose, as though no motion, sound, or presence occurred for no reason at all. Even the air itself felt intentional, heavy with unseen order and silent rules.

After spending some time looking around, Broth-ben, who was nearing the end of his tour, decided to show them how ramen was truly cooked within the Ramen Singularity Timeline and on the Nodara Planet. Already, it was clear that the techniques used here were vastly different from anything they knew. Showing the group a few of these methods would be more than sufficient to leave a lasting impression.

Leading them forward with calm, measured steps, Broth-ben brought the group to another section of the Simmerium. There, a chef could be seen preparing to cook. The chef belonged to the Noodle-Born race, a being whose physiology subtly reflected their culinary nature. Draped over the chef's body was a long, sleeveless outer garment that split along both sides, allowing for unhindered movement.

The color of the garment shifted almost imperceptibly, changing hues based on the chef's internal Savor balance, responding to emotion, focus, and intent. Wrapped securely around the chef's waist was a heat-wrap sash, a specialized band that regulated internal temperature and prevented emotional flare-ups during cooking, ensuring stability and harmony throughout the process.

Around the Noodle-Born chef was an apron made of semi-translucent fabric, a material that appeared to repel oil and broth effortlessly as droplets slid off its surface without leaving a trace. Around the chef's hands were fingerless gloves, allowing precise tactile control while still offering protection. On the chef's feet were bowlstep sandals, flat-soled footwear designed to allow direct contact with the vibrations of the Simmerium floor. Through these sandals, the chef could sense subtle shifts in energy, movement, and resonance beneath the workspace.

With the attire settled and preparation complete, the chef immediately began the cooking process. He moved among various bowls arranged nearby, lifting each one briefly, inspecting it as though listening rather than looking. It was as if he were searching for something that could not be seen. Anthony and his friends remained silent, doing nothing but watch, while Broth-ben did not hesitate to explain what was unfolding before them.

"The first step of cooking ramen is called Bowl Recognition," Broth-ben began calmly. "It is the act of acknowledging which vessel you wish to hold your ramen when you are finished. However, the chef does not merely choose the bowl. The bowl must also choose the chef."

As though responding directly to Broth-ben's words, the chef reached for a pure white bowl. Without hesitation, he placed it upon a special stone pedestal at the center of the station. Then, he simply waited, his posture relaxed, as though anticipating a verdict rather than performing an action.

Within a few seconds, faint warmth spread across the base of the bowl. Savory-Gold lines briefly appeared along its rim, glowing softly before fading. The sign was unmistakable: the bowl had accepted the chef, just as the chef had accepted the bowl.

"If the bowl does not choose the chef," Broth-ben continued, "then the chef must change bowls. This phenomenon is mandatory when cooking ramen. Without mutual recognition, the ramen will never reach completion."

The chef then moved into the second step with deliberate ease, his movements smooth and practiced, showing that this was far from his first time performing such acts. This step was known as the Water Awakening.

Raising one hand, the chef drew liquid from one of the Endless Broth Springs positioned around his station. The liquid flowed slowly through the air and into the pot below. As it poured, the chef regulated his breathing, allowing Savor to seep into the flow with gentle care. Every movement was controlled, every breath purposeful. The liquid darkened slightly as it settled, and thin, deliberate strands of steam rose upward.

Without pause, the chef transitioned into the third step, yet love and affection filled every procedure he made. This step was known as Heat Alignment. On the Nodara Planet, heat was almost never forcibly applied during cooking. Instead, one had to negotiate with both heat and pot, much like how the bowl chose the chef.

The chef stepped closer to the pot and placed a hand against its surface. His eyes closed, his body relaxing as his mind shifted inward, as though communicating with something unseen. In the next instant, warmth began to spread through the pot naturally, slow and even, responding to his intent. The chef then stepped back with gentle composure.

"In this step," Broth-ben explained, "the heat reacts directly to the chef's intentions and thoughts." His tone carried the familiarity of someone who had sampled countless bowls of ramen and witnessed every known technique with his own eyes.

The chef then transitioned into the fourth step of the procedure: the Bone & Depth Infusion. With careful hands, he introduced bones, shells, and void fragments into the pot one after another. For a moment, they floated atop the broth, unmoving. The chef merely watched, his focus absolute, as though nothing existed beyond the pot and the process before him. Then, one by one, the ingredients sank beneath the surface.

As they did, depth began to form. The broth took on a rich Umbral-Brown hue, and the air thickened with each passing second. Paradoxically, time within the pot seemed to slow slightly, as though the world of Nodara itself was assessing the chef's work.

"During this method," Broth-ben spoke, ensuring everyone could hear, "the bones and shells must sink on their own. They cannot be forced. If, after a minute, they continue to float, they must be removed immediately. That means they have not been accepted by the pot or the broth."

Anthony and the others nodded quietly, watching with calm fascination. Everything about the cooking process demanded love, care, permission, and genuine regard. Without these, everything would reject the chef, the bowl, the pot, the heat, the water, all of it.

Soon, pale foam began to form as the temperature rose slightly. The broth deepened further, and gentle surges of heat moved through the pot. The chef raised his hand, Savory energy flowing into his palm before entering the broth with delicate precision. The pale foam lifted into the air, and the chef removed most of it, though not all.

"Why didn't he remove all the foam if he was going to remove it anyway?" Aura Nova asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

"I was just about to explain that, Miss Aura Nova," Broth-ben replied with a small smile, having already recognized her as the most enthusiastic and inquisitive member of the group.

"Those pale foams form as a result of excess intent," he continued. "Ramen is created through intent. Without intent, you have nothing. However, excess intent does not mean impurity. Leaving a trace ensures character, while removing too much results in a soulless broth."

As he spoke, Broth-ben stared at the pot with a calm demeanor, as though attuning himself to the silent language being exchanged between the broth and the chef.

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