My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!

The next morning, Marron stood in the bakery with her sleeves rolled high, a bowl of steaming mana rice in front of her. The cockatrice chicken had cooled just enough to shred into tender, juicy bites.

"This should be easy," she told herself. "Rice. Chicken. Triangle."

Except she couldn't.

The first ball of rice stuck to her fingers like glue, clumping everywhere except where she wanted it. She pressed the chicken inside, but the whole thing fell apart as soon as she tried to shape it. The second attempt was worse—rice exploding out the sides, chicken tumbling onto the counter.

By the third, Marron's hair was sticking to her forehead, and she was muttering under her breath. "Why triangles? Who decided triangles were the right shape? I could just make blobs. Blobs are perfectly portable."

Balen leaned against the counter, arms crossed, lips twitching with barely-suppressed laughter. "Blobs aren't exactly marketable, lass. You'll scare off the customers before they even taste 'em."

"Then you try!" she snapped, flinging a sticky rice lump at him. He dodged easily, chuckling.

That was when Charity arrived, humming as she stepped through the door. She blinked once at Marron's sticky hands and the battlefield of rice splatters across the counter. Then she smirked.

"Good thing I came prepared."

From her pouch, she produced a smooth, black mold—polished edges, hollow in the perfect shape of a triangle.

Marron gawked. "What is that?"

"A food-safe rice mold," Charity said, smug as a cat with cream. She set it on the counter and tapped it proudly. "Put rice in, press down, perfect triangles every time."

"You're giving me that?" Marron asked, stunned.

"Of course." Charity winked. "Just don't forget about me when you become a famous chef."

Balen's head snapped up, eyes widening. "Hold on. How did you even get your hands on one of those? They're rare as dragon teeth."

Charity preened. "Traded a dungeon crawler for them. You'd be surprised at the loot that shows up in dungeons—sometimes even stuff from other worlds."

Marron blinked, holding the mold carefully, like it might vanish. "Other… worlds?"

Charity shrugged casually, though her grin gave away her pride. "I'm a merchant. It's my job to find treasures people didn't even know they wanted."

Marron, for once, didn't argue. She pressed sticky rice into the mold, nestled a piece of chicken in the middle, then sealed it with more rice. A firm push, a little wiggle, and—

Out popped a perfect triangle.

Marron gasped. Lucy squealed. Balen let out a low whistle.

"Well," Marron whispered, staring at the neat little bundle in her hand. "That's… actually beautiful."

"See?" Charity grinned. "Triangles aren't so bad after all."

Balen plucked one off the tray as Marron kept pressing more, biting into it with a satisfied crunch of fried chicken and warm mana rice. "You've found your dish, lass. It's got heart, it's portable, and it's yours."

Marron smiled, a real one this time, sticky fingers forgotten. For the first time, the future didn't feel so overwhelming.

She had a recipe, she had help, and maybe—just maybe—she could really do this.

The first onigiri was perfect in shape, but a little bland in taste. Marron nibbled it with a frown. "Needs… something. The chicken is good, but the rice kind of swallows it."

Balen leaned over, chewing on his second. "You're right. The mana rice is softer than normal grain—good mouthfeel, but it'll need more punch to stand out."

Borin, who had just finished smoothing mortar outside, wandered in and took one without asking. He chewed, slow and thoughtful, then grunted, "Salt. Needs more salt."

"Salt is easy," Marron muttered, scribbling a note into her battered notebook.

The next batch, she tried seasoning the cockatrice meat with her marinade—soy-substitute from the Convenient Store mixed with ginger and a touch of sweet sap syrup. This time, the dwarves' eyes lit up.

"Now that tastes like it could fill a belly after work," Borin said, beard crumbs catching the light.

"But it's still not quite there," Balen murmured. He tapped the rice triangle. "The rice itself needs flavor, not just the filling. Otherwise, you're only eating a mouthful of starch before you reach the good stuff."

So Marron rinsed and salted the mana rice before cooking, letting it steam with dried herbs she had in the pantry. The scent filled the bakery, fragrant and warm, and when she tried pressing it into the mold again, the triangles practically glowed with aroma.

"Better," she whispered after biting into one. "Much better."

The dwarves agreed, some of the children clamoring for seconds while Lucy hummed in delight. Mokko declared it "solid traveler's food," while even Harvey—who claimed not to like rice—snuck a piece before heading back to the construction site.

But Marron wasn't satisfied yet. She adjusted the marinade again, swapping sap syrup for honey, frying the chicken slightly longer until it had a crisp outer edge, and experimenting with how much filling each onigiri could hold before splitting apart. Some cracked in the mold, others sagged too heavily on one side, but every failure brought her closer.

By the time the lanterns flickered on, she had three trays of finished chicken onigiri, each one neat, sturdy, and brimming with savory-sweet flavor. Her hands ached, her apron was sticky beyond saving, but she couldn't stop smiling.

Balen dusted flour from his hands and gave a satisfied nod. "You've found your rhythm, lass. Looks good, tastes good, and people can eat it one-handed. Exactly what you'll need in Whetvale."

Marron flushed under the praise, clutching one of the triangles in both hands like it was a treasure. "I… I think I can actually sell these."

"That's the spirit," Balen said, clapping her on the shoulder.

From where she leaned against the doorframe, Charity's sly smile broke the moment. "Not bad at all. But you're not done."

Marron blinked at her. "What do you mean?"

Charity twirled a ribbon of her hair around her finger. "Savory is one half of the market, sure. But Whetvale doesn't just want filling food." Her grin widened. "They want something sweet, pretty, and worth bragging about to their neighbors."

Marron froze, still holding the onigiri mold. "...Sweet?"

Charity winked. "So, Marron—what's your dessert option?"

[Recipe Update: Fried Chicken Onigiri

Buff: +50 HP, 20% mana regeneration

Note: Consume in moderation, may cause the HEAVY debuff.]