My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!

The next morning felt completely different.

Marron still felt nervous setting up her food stall, but it was layered with something electric. Guildmaster Halloway's letter was tucked in her apron pocket, and the parchment never had a chance to cool down from her fingertips.

She kept grabbing a corner of it, like she wanted to make sure it didn't disappear. Then she opened it, smoothing it flat against her chest. Reread the words in her mind for the sixth (seventh) time.

He was asking her for a formal meeting.

It was different from dropping by her food stall in the marketplace, and she was half proud and half anxious.

Lucy tilted her head, tendrils curled like ribbons. "You keep touching the letter. Are you afraid it will fly away?"

"Not afraid," Marron muttered, though her cheeks heated. "Just… nervous. This feels like a step I can't run away from."

Mokko loped ahead, his tail flicking with mischief. "Good. Means it's important. Big moves always leave paw prints."

Comfort & Crunch was busier than usual, the marketplace abuzz with the results of yesterday's rush. Marron caught fragments of conversation as she prepped the cart.

"…the chicken porridge—healing, I swear it!"

"…sure it's pricier than a meal, but it's cheaper than a potion, and tastier too."

"…she's using imported products, like that meat floss. That's not cheap."

She glanced at the dwindling stack of packets tucked in a crate behind the counter.

There were 280 left. It was absolutely insane to think about, considering they started with 600.

For the first time since arriving in Savoria, her gold total had tipped over ten thousand. She ought to feel secure. Instead, the number only sharpened her determination.

I'm not doing this for profit. I want to show I can stand my ground like the other guild chefs.

Marron was hyperaware of how absurd it was--she wasn't even a part of the guild yet and wanted to be seen as someone who could stand among them.

It was the same fire that burned in her during her first day as a sales specialist back on Earth. With time, the fire had dwindled to nearly nothing.

What if it happens again? A tiny voice asked her, but a bigger voice told her to focus on learning healing cuisine. Because it could save someone's life one day.

Marron chose to keep listening to that voice, and imagined the tiny one covering itself up with dirt, until it was completely buried in her psyche.

+

By midmorning, the steady rhythm of chopping scallions and ladling broth lulled Marron into something like calm. Adventurers came and went, some with fresh bandages, some laughing now that their wounds were lighter.

One customer stood out—a middle-aged man in plain guild attire, no weapon on his belt. He paid for a bowl, offered no small talk, and left quickly with the steaming container tucked carefully under his arm.

Marron didn't think about it until much later, when she imagined that same bowl sitting on the guildmaster's desk.

When the cart finally closed and the sun slipped westward, Marron changed into her cleanest clothes—white blouse, dark trousers, apron folded neatly over her arm. Mokko insisted on walking beside her, tail high and ears flicking alert. Lucy bounced along at her other side, humming faintly like a child before a festival.

+

The Culinary Guild was quieter than yesterday. Evening light streamed through the tall stained-glass windows, setting kitchen utensils etched in gold aglow. The hall smelled faintly of parchment and spiced oil, a blend of business and cooking.

As Marron stepped inside, whispers rose around her like a tide.

"Her guardian really is as large as they say!"

"This is the girl with the cart?"

"I heard her healing congee is just built different..."

"I thought culinary guardians of his size went extinct."

Mokko puffed out his chest, though his tail flicked nervously. For the first time, Marron saw little twinkling lights next to a lot of chefs.

These must be the modern size that everyone keeps talking about.

Marron shook her head and kept her eyes forward. She couldn't afford to let gossip shake her, not now.

At the far end of the hall, a guard opened the double doors to Halloway's office. The guildmaster himself stood waiting behind a heavy oak desk, quill set aside, the faint steam of congee rising from a porcelain bowl beside his papers.

"Marron Louvel," he said warmly, gesturing her inside. "Come. Sit."

The room was quieter than the hall, lined with shelves of cookbooks and relics under glass domes. A tapestry embroidered with the guild's crest hung behind Halloway's chair, muted in the dim light.

Marron sat carefully, smoothing her blouse. Mokko stayed by the door like a watchful shadow, Lucy bobbing beside him. She spotted an empty bowl on his table.

"I tried your congee," Halloway began, his voice even. He tapped the edge of the bowl. "Healing chicken congee, was it?"

Her throat tightened. "Yes, sir. Did… did you like it?"

"I did." His eyes, sharp despite his age, fixed on her. "But I tasted more than broth and rice. I tasted conviction. You didn't want to profit, you wanted to ease suffering."

Marron swallowed hard. "Yes. I just...wanted to help."

"That is why I asked you here." He leaned forward, folding his hands. "You have potential, Marron. But more importantly, you have the heart for guild work. Few chefs in Whetvale still pursue healing cuisine. Fewer still succeed in it. You may be the spark to bring it back."

Her heart thudded so loudly she was sure Mokko could hear it from the door.

Halloway reached for a fresh sheet of parchment and dipped his quill. "Which brings me to my next question: would you be interested in joining the Culinary Guild?"

Marron's breath caught. All the whispers, the rivalries, the warnings about Zehra—they suddenly felt very close, very real.

But so did the smiles of the adventurers clutching their steaming bowls. The relief in their faces as warmth and flavor worked their quiet magic.

She pressed her palms to her knees to steady herself, then nodded slowly. "Yes. I'd love to."

+

Marron's breath caught. All the whispers, the rivalries, the warnings about Zehra—they suddenly felt very close, very real.

But so did the smiles of the adventurers clutching their steaming bowls. The relief in their faces as warmth and flavor worked their quiet magic.

She pressed her palms to her knees to steady herself, then nodded. "Yes. I'd love to."

For the first time, Halloway's stern expression eased into a smile. "Good. Then let us make it official."

The paperwork was surprisingly simple. Marron signed her name on a thick vellum contract with ink that shimmered faintly in the lantern-light. The guild crest sealed itself at the bottom of the page as her quill lifted, glowing gold for a moment before fading.

"Your annual membership fee is five hundred gold," Halloway said. "A small sum compared to what the guild provides, but important nonetheless."

Marron swallowed, tugged her pouch from her belt, and placed five coins of solid hundred-mark gold onto the desk. Her total dropped to 9,620 gold, but relief quickly outweighed the sting.

"In exchange," Halloway continued, "you now have access to guild kitchens, shared resources, training halls, and the right to participate in official commissions. More importantly, you qualify for guild housing. It is subsidized and far safer than the average inn. Would you like me to have a unit prepared for you?"

"Yes, please." Marron's shoulders sagged in quiet relief. The inn had been bleeding her purse dry every week, even before the meat floss order. "That… helps a lot."

"Good." Halloway nodded. "We'll have your keys and assignment by tomorrow."

For the first time in days, Marron felt like the ground beneath her feet was steady. She had protection, she had legitimacy, she had a roof over her head that wouldn't drain her dry.