My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!

The steady thrum of orders became a full-on rhythm. Marron barely noticed the sun climbing higher as she fried, wrapped, and handed over food, her apron already dusted with flour and sugar. Lucy chirped every time she passed a neat packet across the counter, and Mokko kept the line moving smoothly, his calm presence warding off any jostling or impatience.

"Three more rice balls!""Two beignets, extra sugar if you can!""One of each, thank you kindly!"

The voices blurred together, but Marron's focus sharpened. The fryer hissed like applause every time she dropped a beignet in. The scent of crisp chicken and caramelizing sugar hung thick in the air, and she could feel customers' eyes lighting up at each bite they took.

Her hands stopped trembling. Instead, they moved with certainty, her body remembering steps she'd practiced over and over in Meadowbrook. Scoop, wrap, seal. Roll, fry, dust. She even found herself smiling, not the nervous twitch of before, but a genuine curve of joy as another child giggled at the string of cheese stretching between halves of a beignet.

Confidence bloomed with every satisfied sigh, every "I'll be back for more."

She stole quick glances at the other vendors. The goblin skewerman had a booming crowd, the siren's song drifted sweetly over the stalls, and the elf still moved like water with her salads—but none of them had a line quite like hers now. Not huge, not overwhelming, but steady, constant. People noticed. People were choosing her.

Her chest warmed with pride.

Then, as she reached for the basket of prepped rice balls, her hand froze. The once-full container was nearly empty. She blinked, counting quickly. Only a handful left.

She glanced at the cold box—half the beignet dough was gone too.

Already?

A mix of shock and gratitude hit her all at once. She hadn't expected this. She thought she'd be standing here for hours, struggling to sell, with leftovers weighing her down. But now… she was running low before midday.

Customers still waited patiently, chatting as the fryer bubbled. Marron forced her hands to stay steady, but inside, her heart was racing.

It was working. Too well, maybe.

As she handed off another beignet, the thought pressed at her chest.

I never thought it would be a bestseller so quickly…

Grateful, and worried in equal measure, Marron swallowed hard, forcing her focus back on the fryer. Tomorrow, she'd have to plan better.

But for today—she still had mouths to feed.

+

The line thinned at last, and Marron let herself breathe. Only two rice balls left, only three beignets bubbling in the oil. Lucy wobbled happily, her ribbon fluttering in little circles as if to say we did it!

"Looks like we're about done for the day," Marron murmured, relief loosening her shoulders.

But then, someone new stepped up to the counter.

The woman carried herself differently from the other customers—not hurried, not casual, but with an easy kind of confidence that drew eyes even without trying. Her cloak was travel-worn, but the cut was fine, and her dark hair gleamed in the sunlight. When she smiled at Marron, it was the sort of smile that made you feel as if she already knew exactly what she wanted.

"Two of your beignets," the woman said, her voice smooth and deliberate. "And the last rice ball, please."

Marron blinked at her phrasing—the last? She glanced at the basket. Sure enough, only one remained. Embarrassed, she laughed weakly. "I, uh… guess you're in luck. This really is the last one."

"Then I'll treasure it." The woman's eyes crinkled with amusement.

Marron assembled the plate with as much care as if she'd been serving royalty, sliding the warm rice ball into its wrap and dusting the beignets in sugar until they gleamed. She passed them across the counter with a bow.

The woman accepted them with a grace that felt almost ceremonial, then took a single bite of the rice ball. She chewed thoughtfully, as if weighing something beyond just taste. When she swallowed, she leaned in slightly.

"You should prepare yourself," she said softly, so only Marron could hear. "Word travels quickly. By tomorrow, your crowd will double."

Marron blinked. "W-what?"

Before she could ask more, a ripple of noise swept through the market. Vendors whispered, craning their necks to see. Some even left their stalls entirely just to watch.

"That's her!" a dwarf muttered, clutching her apron."Why is she here without her guards?" a siren whispered."I can't believe she came to this square—on the first day, no less!"

Marron's stomach dropped. She looked back at the woman, who was licking a dusting of sugar from her fingertips with perfect poise.

The elf salad vendor called across the way, almost choking on her words. "You—you mean to tell me you got visited by Lady Elowen on your first day?!"

Marron's brows knitted. "…Who?"

The marketplace gasped collectively. Even Mokko's ears perked high in alarm.

The woman—Lady Elowen, apparently—just smiled, unbothered by the commotion. She tipped her head politely to Marron and said, "Until tomorrow, chef." Then, as smoothly as she'd arrived, she disappeared into the crowd, her cloak trailing like ink in water.

Marron stood frozen, ladle still in hand. "…Was that bad?"

The elf actually groaned into her hands. "Bad? That was Elowen of the Silver Quill! The most famous food chronicler in the entire region! Do you have any idea what this means?!"

Marron, cheeks red and stomach tight, shook her head mutely.

The goblin skewer vendor barked a laugh. "It means you're not sleeping tonight, missy! You'd best be ready, 'cause tomorrow—tomorrow you'll be fighting off customers with a broom."

The others nodded, a mix of envy and admiration flashing across their faces.

Marron, still clutching her ladle, whispered only to herself:"…I thought today was overwhelming already…"

By the time they made it back to the inn, Marron's arms ached from pushing the half-empty cart uphill, though her heart still beat fast from the day's whirlwind.

She sat heavily on the edge of the bed while Mokko and Lucy settled nearby, and only when her hands stopped shaking did the thought finally push through:

Why did we sell out so fast?

She swallowed, then pulled up her status window with a shaky breath. The translucent pane flickered into view.