The heavy hand on her shoulder made her jump.
"Easy there, memory-cook."
She looked up to see Balen, his flame-scarred apron still smelling of duskbeast spices. His usual swagger was muted, replaced by something almost gentle.
"Mokko, handle the line," he called over her head. The bear-man immediately stepped forward, his bulk creating a natural barrier.
"Everyone gets fed," Mokko announced in his deep rumble. "But she needs a moment to get your orders right. Unless you prefer your soup burned?"
Balen crouched beside her cart, voice low enough that only she could hear. "You're trying to cook everyone's pain at once. That's not how it works."
"But they need—"
"They need food. Not therapy." He gestured at the hooded figure, who was watching with patient, sad eyes. "This one? They already know their grief. They just want to taste it without drowning in it."
His cracked leather gloves moved over her ingredients with surprising gentleness. "One emotion. One person. Everything else gets locked away until later."
"Don't let the customers run the stall," he said, loud enough for the line to hear. "You've got your guardian bear and that cute slime. It's okay to ask them for help."
"Why are you helping me?" Marron whispered.
Balen's grin was rueful. "You remind me of me when I started Rizzlet's Ready-to-Go. Completely overwhelmed with customers—and that was in Whetvale, where they'll wait as long as the food's good. Same with Frostfall, except you gotta be faster 'cause they like their food hot."
He gestured at his own busy stall. "Y'know what shuts them up? My blazing tofu gives adventurers additional attack. But hey—you don't have to catch up to us right now. Just do what you can do at your current rank."
She observed how he cooked and served food, but didn't know how he could keep up with everyone's orders.
"Adventurers who want attack-buff food, line up for my cart. This girl is a newbie, so let's give her some breathing room!"
A bright red sparkling creature kept flitting around Balen's stall.
Marron blinked.
Was that...a culinary guardian?
As if reading her mind, Mokko nodded. "He has a fairy type. They're a little spoiled, but make great waitresses."
So he doesn't do it all on his own. That's...very comforting. He also needs help like me.
Okay. Time to go back to my happy place. I need to calm down so I can serve customers.
Marron closed her eyes, trying to find that morning peace again. Lucy's soft shimmer of lavender and peach when she first tasted the warming bowl. Mokko's sleepy contentment. Real reactions to real food.
When she opened them, Mokko had positioned himself at the front of the line, his bulk creating natural order. Lucy was beside the prep station, her colors swirling in supportive pastels.
"One order at a time," Marron said, more to herself than anyone else. "Just like this morning."
This time, she focused. Just the hooded figure. Just their quiet longing. She cooked with eyes half-shut, letting the emotion guide her. More rosemary—it whispered of winter mornings and gentle hands. The coalcrisp apples spoke of laughter across distance.
When she slid the bowl forward, the customer took one spoonful and smiled—the first real expression she'd seen from them.
"She used to hum while she cooked," they said softly. "I can almost hear it now."
Something warm pressed behind Marron's eyes, but this time it felt right.
Ding!
[Pantry Refresh Progress: 190g / 200g]
XP Gained: +78 (Emotional Echo Bonus Active)
A few customer snippets made her grin:
"This tastes like how my sister used to sneak me soup before big tests."
"I haven't had soup that felt like soup in ages."
"This tastes like the first snowfall!"
As the lunch rush died down, Mielle appeared at her cart. More awake now than she'd been that morning, braid fixed, and a pastry box in hand. She placed it on the cart with ceremony.
Inside: a delicate citrus tart, mana-glazed and root-candied.
Marron took one bite.
Loneliness. Pressure. Perfection. Sweetness forced into form.
Mielle's face went through several expressions—surprise, then something darker as she watched Marron's reaction. "You felt it, didn't you?"
"I make these for the Adventurer's Guild," Mielle said, not quite meeting Marron's eyes. "Hundred orders a week. All identical. All perfect." Her voice turned bitter. "My brother used to say I was wasting my talent on sweets when people needed real protection food. So I made him something different. A pork bun that could bounce back damage." Her laugh cracked. "Fat lot of good it did him in the end."
She glanced around, then leaned closer. "Last month, someone here served memory-food to the wrong person. A guard captain who'd lost his squad in the Thornwood. The soup brought back their dying screams so vividly he tried to arrest the cook for 'assault with intent to traumatize.' The food remembers, Marron. But so do the people who eat it. And some memories..." She shuddered. "Some memories bite back."
They both had magic in their food. But where Marron's felt wild and overwhelming, Mielle's was precise, controlled—and lonely.
"Be careful," Mielle said quietly. "In Frostfall, the food remembers—and so do the people who eat it."
Ding!
[Pantry Refresh Complete – 200g Earned]
Mystery Ingredient Added: Glimmerdew Radish (Emotion: Quiet Joy)
Reputation Gained: +5 (Tier III Local Recognition)
New Daily Quest Available: [Serve a Memory Dish to a First-Time Diner]
Marron stood there long after the square had quieted, staring down at her hands. They still tingled with warmth. Not from heat. From memory.
Lucy slithered up beside her, curling gently around her ankles. The slime's normally bouncy form had turned calm and dusky-blue, colors swirling in gentle support.
Balen appeared one more time, wiping ash from his hands. "You did good today, memory-cook. Real good." He glanced at the alchemist's now-empty stall. "And that pretentious bottle-rider left without saying a word. That's basically a victory."
Will my hands ever be just mine again? Marron wondered. But as she looked at her friends—Mokko cleaning her prep station, Lucy pulsing gentle pastels, Balen offering genuine respect—she realized maybe that wasn't the right question.
Maybe the question was: What beautiful things can these hands create when they're not alone?
She was about to close up for the day when the alchemist returned riding on his ceramic horse.
"I still ordered something, newbie." he said, haughty expression on his face. "Will you make something that won't embarrass the square?"