My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!

The frying oil hissed, the scent of garlic and ginger filling the bakery, as Marron mass-fried battered cockatrice thigh pieces. She tried to ignore the quest prompt still glowing in her vision—100 servings of onigiri and 100 beignets—but the weight of it pressed on her shoulders with every crackle from the pan.

Lucy was in a corner of the bakery countertop, her tendrils carefully placing parchment paper into Charity's take-out boxes. By the time Marron finished frying the chicken karaage and let it cool, she would be finished.

Meanwhile, Dori stood nearby and stirred a pot of rice with seriousness that made Marron's heart swell. He wasn't confident yet, but he wanted to help. The rice was more than enough for the onigiri--she also wanted some for Aegis Chicken Rice. That way, the builders and carpenters could have some extra defense.

Charity, perched on a stool, was busy stacking finished boxes into neat towers. "Don't panic," she reminded Marron for the tenth time. "We'll make them all, and even if you don't sell everything, it's better to look prepared than like some desperate village cook. Trust me, Whetvale likes polish."

Balen added with a grin, "And nothing says polished like a neatly wrapped snack. Simple, affordable, and delicious. If they want to eat it at home, they can too. It'll work out lass, you'll see."

Marron nodded, wiping sweat from her forehead as she pulled another batch of golden crispy chicken pieces from the oil. She still felt overwhelmed, but with everyone pitching in, it felt… possible.

+

By late afternoon, the Commons looked like a festival kitchen. Onigiri were stacked in neat pyramids thanks to the mold, their wrappers snug around each one. The beignet dough rested under cloth, ready for frying once orders came in. The parchment-lined boxes gleamed in rows like treasure chests.

Marron stood back, flour dusted across her apron, and let herself smile. "We really did it."

"You really did it," Charity corrected, eyes twinkling. "Just remember: don't sell food. Sell your story. People remember flavors more when they're tied to someone they believe in."

Marron flushed. "A story… I'll think of something."

That evening, as the last preparations were tidied away, Borin found her outside the inn's half-finished frame. He leaned against the stone, arms crossed, his golden eyes thoughtful.

"Lass," he said quietly, "be careful on the road."

Marron tilted her head. "Why?"

"I've been speaking with adventurers passing through," Borin replied, his voice low. "They didn't step into Meadowbrook, but word travels. They say more dungeons have been sighted in Savoria lately."

Dungeons? Why is Balen worried about them? She paused and a batch of fried chicken stayed too long in the pan, the crust turning dark. Marron only realized when the oil started to pop, droplets of it landing on her skin.

"Agh! Sorry, can't sell these," She muttered, setting them aside to eat for later. Failed batches never went to waste--if she didn't eat them all, somebody would.

Mokko, who was sanding a beam nearby, froze. "That can't be right. Dungeons are rare. Months—sometimes years—can pass without one appearing."

Borin's gaze hardened. "True. But dungeons form when magic builds up faster than the land can hold it. And where there's a dungeon, there are monsters. Strong ones. Raiders too—easy prey inside, easy loot outside."

Marron's stomach dropped, her mind racing with the System's threat: Failure = Raiders notice your base. "But the raiders… they're gone, aren't they?"

"That's the troubling part." Balen's arms tightened over his chest. He'd stopped rolling the cut chicken pieces in flour. "Raiders don't vanish. If they're quiet, they're watching. Waiting. For what, I don't know."

The night air pressed cold around them. Marron swallowed hard, the fear coiling sharp in her chest. "I can't fight. I don't have any combat power…"

Borin walked up to Marron and grabbed a bit of fried chicken to taste. The crunch echoed through the bakery, along with the smell of garlic and ginger.

"This one's a winner for sure. But, well, train those who can fight for you, Marron. Mokko and Lucy would fight tooth and nail to protect you. He has those fists, and who knows what your slime can do once she gets more cores."

Charity nodded briskly. "Or if you've got coin, hire mercenaries. Whetvale has plenty. But don't freeze up, Marron. You're not completely helpless."

Marron nodded as she shut off the deep fryer and stared at her fried chicken mountain. Once the rice was done, it would be time to make the final fried chicken onigiri.

Deep down, she just wanted this world to be about cooking and comfort food. Yet again, it reminded her—safety was fragile. This may be a world focused on food, but it had dungeons and magic too.

"Yeah. But I now see...why joining a guild looks like the best option." The Culinary Guild had more members and more resources. It could be worth her time (and in the future, Meadowbrook's) to apply for a membership.

But then she shook her head, forcing herself to breathe. "First things first. I'll get through this quest. Then… I'll decide."

Above Meadowbrook, the stars were bright, but Marron barely saw them. The road to Whetvale loomed ahead, lined with food, faith, and the shadow of dungeons.

Right now, I just have to focus on making 100 chicken rice balls.

The rest of the day was a blur of rice being molded into triangles, with a piece of cockatrice meat in the middle.

+

The thought of raiders, dungeons, and monsters prowling unseen clung to Marron even after Borin's warning. That night, she couldn't shake the unease. Before bed, she pulled Charity aside.

"Can you prepare another hundred boxes?" Marron asked, voice quieter than usual. "Not for Whetvale—just… for Meadowbrook. If anything happens."

Charity studied her for a long moment, then nodded. "Emergency rations. Smart. I'll mark them with the Guild's seal so people don't mistake them for the sale stock."

Marron smiled faintly. "Thanks. I'll fill them with Aegis Chicken Rice. Better safe than sorry."