Marron glanced at the guild evaluator, who was busy compiling her report for the day. She conquered today's challenge, and now she was just another person visiting Frostfall.
As if reading her mind, Mokko said slowly, "Day ain't over until you officially close up, kid. Whatever you're feeling can wait."
She took several deep breaths. The widow's grief had been calmed, but her emotional resonance was much too high. She still felt like a sponge absorbing sadness.
Breathe, Marron. 80% of this isn't yours.
She imagined pushing back against the sadness, and to her surprise, it worked. Marron imagined a great big barrier enveloping her and Mokko, like jello.
For a brief moment, she felt like herself again--proud of her accomplishment, and a little bit scared of what was yet to come. And then she felt the townspeople's grief push back, and she felt her bouncy barrier threaten to dissipate.
Mokko sighed and hugged Marron, and in her mind's eye she saw the jello rebuild itself. "I don't have enough strength to keep it up forever, but it'll hold until we get back to the inn."
He smelled like a cinnamon coffee cake, and felt like it, too. Very soft.
"Thank you," Marron whispered, and felt more like herself again. Lucy crawled up her back and splooted herself on top of Marron's hat. She felt the jello barrier get even thicker, and smiled.
With their help, she closed her cart and wheeled it back to the inn, past the guild evaluator. She waved goodbye and didn't even flinch when the stern-faced woman glared at her and murmured a frosty "goodbye, we'll be in touch tomorrow" in response.
+
They returned to the inn in silence, cart wheels crunching softly over the salted cobbles.
The warmth inside hit Marron like a soft wall. Lamplight flickered along the wooden beams, and the faint smell of baked onions and hearth cider curled up from the kitchen. She wanted to sink into it, to forget the clipboard gaze of the guild rep, the way her words hung like frost in Marron's bones.
But her head was still full of echoes—grief from the widow and the jittering undertone of something unnamable from the guild evaluator's lingering stare.
Is it always going to be this hard?
She set the cart's locking charm and walked slowly into the common room, boots shedding melted snow.
Mokko didn't ask if she was okay.
He just sat on the cushion nearest the fire and opened one arm.
Marron stood for a moment, unsure if she should take the invitation.
Then she did.
She thought it was going to be awkward, but he was a bear who'd lived through worse.
Instead, he hugged her back and let her weep.
"I know," she sobbed. "We're just here to cook. But if I..."
"If I can ease their pain even a little bit with my food...I think it'll be worth it."
She felt his snuffle against her hair.
"Today's over, Marron, and you did great. Let it all out now and tomorrow, you fight again."
+
The morning after the widow's soup, the stall felt warmer than usual.
Marron took extra care chopping the Glimmerdew radishes for porridge orders, and she added thyme to everything without thinking.
[Trait Active: Resonant Layering – Multiple emotional notes detected in current prep process.]
Mokko was sorting delivery crates behind her, tossing root vegetables into their bins like he had a grudge. Lucy sat in her usual spot in the steamer lid, watching them both with a slow pulse of color.
"I'm gonna try a joy dish," Marron said finally.
Mokko grunted. "Is that... safe?"
"I'm not gonna hit anyone with unresolved grief," she said. "Just something bright."
He gave her a look.
"Okay. Bright and stable."
She was halfway through slicing the hearth-apple when a familiar voice said: "You need clearer boundaries."
Mielle, eyes shadowed with exhaustion and cinnamon-dust on her gloves, leaned on the side of Marron's cart.
"You want to evoke powerful feelings like joy or sadness?" she asked. "Then stop treating them like wild animals. It isn't that complicated."
"I'm not trained—"
"Then learn. Memory magic is flavor magic. It's a balance of sweetness, sharpness, temperature, timing. Anyone can serve a dish with memory. Controlling what memory it pulls up? That's technique."
To prove her point, Mielle made a dumpling shell. And as she filled it with savory cooked pork, Marron saw the unmistakable twinkle of joy. It nestled in the pork like gold leaf.
"I didn't learn this in a day. I learned this for ten years, Marron. And this isn't even my speciality. You know what emotion I'm good at?"
Marron blinked and focused her gaze on Mielle, and her eyes widened. Surrounding the bubbly and sleepy pastry chef were dark blue glimmers of depression.
Not just sadness.
"Yeah. But I don't let that stop me." Mielle smiled as she put the pork bun in her food cart's steamer. It was the only savory thing she ever made.
"So don't let the feelings control you, yeah? You're better than that."
Marron took that to heart.
For the first time, she didn't just follow the flavor trail.
She tried to direct it.
A lightly grilled flatbread. A warm citrus glaze. Layers of sliced orchard peach, mana-honey foam, and a tiny sugared flower.
The customer was a courier on her lunch break.
Her system pings showed:
[Fatigue: Moderate. Joy Deficiency Detected.]
Marron handed over the plate with a smile. "You look like someone who could use a small celebration."
The courier blinked, sniffed, and then burst out laughing after the first bite.
Then crying.
Then laughing again.
"I—I don't know what this is," she said, dabbing at her eyes. "But it feels like snow-day muffins and opening presents and...gods, I needed this."
+
[System Alert: Emotional Saturation Detected – Joy Spike (93%)
XP Gained: +40
Trait Progress: Attunement Scale Threshold Reached
New System Unlock: Flavor Pulse – Attunement Scale I: Adjust intensity of emotional echoes (mild, moderate, strong)]
Mielle whistled low. "You cranked it too high. That wasn't a joy dish, it was a joy flood."
Marron frowned. "I didn't mean to—"
"You'll learn. Just remember joy has layers. It's not always loud. Sometimes it's quiet. Like licking the spoon when no one's watching."
Mokko raised an eyebrow. "You're awfully poetic when you're sleep-deprived."
"I'm always poetic," Mielle said. "You just don't listen."
As Mielle vanished back into the crowd, the guild rep in gray robes stepped forward from where she'd been pretending to browse.
"Well, that was something," she said. "Still uncontrolled. But certainly measurable."
Marron stiffened.
The woman scribbled a note on her clipboard. "In the old days, we used to call chefs like you something else. Something dangerous."
"What did you call us?" Marron asked.
The guild rep looked at her for a long time.
Then walked away.
Mokko muttered, "That's not ominous at all."
Marron didn't respond.
But her fingers tightened around her prep spoon.
And behind her, Lucy pulsed a cautious yellow.
The next day's menu would need something... grounding.