My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!

Marron's first thought, upon passing through Whetvale's gates, was of Borin's words. Humans and their building aesthetic confuses me sometimes. Why do most of you like wood and shy away from mortar?

She had to admit, looking at the thick log wall surrounding the town, that he had a point. It was sturdy enough, with sharpened timbers interlocked and bound by iron bands, but compared to the dwarves' stonework in Meadowbrook, it felt… temporary.

Still, Mokko and Lucy hardly noticed.

"Whoa," Mokko breathed, ears perked, as he caught the mingled scents of grilled meats, fresh bread, and spiced stews drifting from the market district. "It smells like… everything."

Lucy bounced inside her jar, her ribbon bobbing. "Shiny! So shiny!" she chirped, fixating on the rows of polished armor and gleaming wares displayed along the roadside.

The town bustled with life. Beastkin with wagging tails carried baskets of fruit. Elves bartered for fine thread from dwarves. Goblins hawked skewered meats beside towering orcs who sampled their goods without shame.

Sirens with iridescent scales sold bottles of brine-tonic, their voices lilting and strange. And weaving carefully through the crowd were… fungus folk—short, stout creatures whose mushroom caps sprouted like umbrellas, some dusted with glowing spores.

Marron blinked, realizing their caps were not just decorative. Mushroom heads. And they're edible?

Charity's advice rang loud in her mind: It's not just the taste, Marron. People here expect food to look as good as it smells. She could see what her friend meant—each stall displayed food that, while rustic, still had a flourish.

A scattering of herbs, a lacquered glaze, a clever fold of parchment. Even street food in Whetvale had to charm the eyes before it reached the tongue.

By the time they reached the inn, Marron's nerves had doubled.

The innkeeper was a stern-looking elder orc with skin the color of dark iron and tusks polished to a dull gleam. He glanced at them once, taking in Marron's food cart, Mokko's wary posture, and Lucy's eager bouncing. His expression softened only slightly when Marron offered a polite bow.

"You lot affiliated with the Culinary Guild?" he asked, voice deep as rolling stone.

Marron shook her head quickly. "No, sir."

"Shame. Guild members usually get discounts." His eyes flicked back to the cart. "But seeing as you've got a vendor's rig… you'll be selling at the market?"

"Yes." Marron tried to keep her voice steady.

"Mm." The orc grunted, reaching for a thick ledger and dipping his quill in ink. He scribbled something down with neat strokes, then turned the book for her to see.

"Thirty gold for the night."

Mokko opened his mouth as if to protest, but Marron shook her head before he could get the words out. Without hesitation—though her stomach twisted—she counted out thirty gold and placed the coins in the orc's thick hand. His brows lifted faintly, maybe surprised at how quickly she paid, but he simply nodded and gestured toward the stairs.

The room was plainly decorated but tidy, a wide bed pressed against the wall and clean linens tucked tight. Marron blinked when she saw the size—it was big enough that Mokko's broad frame would fit without complaint. The innkeeper hadn't even batted an eye at him, clearly used to travelers of all shapes and sizes.

Once they were alone, Mokko finally asked, "Why didn't you try to haggle?"

Marron set her cart's handle against the wall, brushing stray crumbs from her apron. "Because I wanted to give a good first impression. Besides…" She drew in a breath, forcing confidence into her tone. "With Charity's advice, we'll make the money back and then some."

She sounded braver than she felt.

It'll be fine. Just like the night before a big presentation. Things will work out. They have to.

She carefully released Lucy from her jar, and the slime bobbed onto the floor with a cheerful wobble. Her ribbon looked a little damp but otherwise held firm, curling happily as she bounced from corner to corner.

Marron caught herself watching Lucy's core—clear and gemlike, rising and falling in her body with a slow, soothing rhythm like a fish gliding in water. For some reason, the sight eased the knot in her chest.

Still, reality struck when she glanced at her coin pouch. Twenty gold left. Barely enough for emergencies. Her stomach grumbled at the thought of dipping into her stock of onigiri, but she pressed her lips together and shook her head. No. Those are for tomorrow.

Instead, she turned to her cold box and rifled through the ingredients. "No pork left, but there's still enough for some beef rice bowls."

Mokko's ears twitched. "That sounds good."

She pulled out the beef, only to notice a wicker basket set neatly on the kitchen's island counter. A note sat atop it in thick handwriting:

Vendors get some staples, in case you don't want to order room service. Just clean up after yourselves.—Grathok

Marron's eyes widened as she peeked inside. Alongside the basics—rice, a handful of eggs, and portions of beef, pork, and chicken—was a selection of vegetables so fresh they looked like they'd just been plucked from the ground. Glossy carrots, green beans still crisp, leafy lettuce with dew clinging to its edges.

Her lips curved into a surprised smile. "Well worth the thirty gold, I think."

She rolled up her sleeves. The inn's kitchen was fancier than her humble setup back in Meadowbrook—stone counters, iron ranges, even a rack of copper pans gleaming above her head. The tools of real professionals. She flexed her fingers, that familiar nervous energy pooling in her chest.

"Alright," she whispered to herself. "Let's make this good."

+

Marron washed her hands, tied her apron tighter, and began laying out ingredients. Thin slices of beef, a handful of those glossy vegetables, two eggs, and rice simmering gently in the pot she claimed for herself. Her knife moved in steady rhythm, slicing onions until the sting in her eyes mixed with the comfort of routine.

Lucy plopped herself on a stool to watch, her ribbon draping lazily over the edge. Mokko leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed but a faint smile curving his lips as the smells began to fill the room.

The inn's kitchen had broad windows, their shutters thrown open to the dusky air. Marron hardly noticed at first, but faint murmurs drifted in. She glanced sideways once and realized a pair of curious travelers—an elf with silver hair and a stout goblin—were lingering just outside, craning their necks for a better look. Another passerby slowed, nostrils flaring at the scent of caramelizing onions and sizzling beef.

Marron felt the prickling of attention on her back. A familiar panic rose—was she supposed to invite them in? Offer to sell? But then she drew a slow breath and shook her head.

"This meal is for us," she whispered under her breath, focusing on the pan. The spatula clacked against iron as she folded everything together: tender beef simmering in broth, sweet onions melting down, steam from the rice rising like a cloud of comfort.

The salad was simple—fresh greens tossed with a light vinaigrette she improvised with vinegar and honey from the basket—but the colors sang against the deep brown of the beef bowls. She plated them carefully, sliding an onsen-style egg over each serving, yolk gleaming golden.

Lucy bounced eagerly, ribbon twitching, and Mokko's tail flicked like a metronome as he pulled up a chair.

When she finally set the bowls down, the travelers outside had doubled. Five now, shadows pressed against the window, their eyes following every movement as if it were theater. Marron's chest squeezed with nerves—what if they asked for some? What if she disappointed them?

But Mokko tugged gently at her sleeve, pulling her to sit. "Ignore them. This is yours, Marron."

She sat, chopsticks trembling faintly in her hand, and tasted the first bite. Rich, savory beef. Sweet onions. Perfect rice. The flavors soothed something raw inside her, calming the worry about tomorrow.

The three of them ate quietly while the voices outside faded away. By the time the bowls were empty, only the night air lingered at the window.

Marron leaned back, a small smile tugging her lips. "See? Worth the thirty gold."

Mokko chuckled low, tapping his chopsticks on the rim of his bowl. "Worth more."

Lucy burbled happily in agreement, her ribbon bobbing like a flag.

+

When their bowls were scraped clean, Marron fetched the pitcher of cool water from the counter and poured three cups. They drank together in contented silence, the warmth of the food still lingering in their bellies.

As Marron reached for the dishes, Lucy wobbled forward with a decisive plop. Her ribbon perked like a proud banner as she engulfed a stack of bowls and utensils. Within seconds, the clinging oil, scraps, and stains were dissolved, leaving the surfaces gleaming as though freshly polished.

"Lucy…" Marron whispered in awe. "You're amazing."

The little slime quivered, her ribbon bouncing with delight at the praise.

Mokko chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Guess we don't have to worry about kitchen chores anymore."

Marron giggled softly, a weight lifting from her shoulders as she stacked the sparkling dishes. "Best assistant ever."

Soon after, the three of them made their way back to the room. The day's exhaustion pressed in, but their stomachs were full, their hearts steadier than before. Marron slipped beneath the covers, the faint sounds of the market outside fading into nothing.

For the first time in days, her sleep was untroubled. No shadows, no claws scraping stone. Just warmth, steady breathing, and the quiet promise of tomorrow.

Tomorrow she would fight for customer attention. Tomorrow she had three days to make one hundred gold.

But that was for tomorrow's worries.

Tonight, Marron dreamed of nothing at all.