A FEW DAYS LATER
VERA
Every morning started the same, sunlight creeping through the narrow alley, the smell of freshly washed produce, and me tying my apron with a sigh that was half exhaustion, half pride. Primrose tavern. It had a name now. Not official, not painted on any fancy signboard, but the adventurers started calling it that after the tiny flowers I kept on the counter. Somehow, it stuck. And every day, more of them came. By the seventh morning, the place was packed, tables full, laughter bouncing off the walls, the scent of stew and fried chicken heavy in the air.
"Oi, boss lady! Two stews, three rice plates, and one of those… what did you call it again? Fried egg thing?" A burly dwarf called out from the corner.
"Omurice." I said, sliding a plate toward him with a grin. "And stop shouting, Goran, I'm right here."
He chuckled, beard shaking as he handed the food around to his party.
"Aye, aye, but if I don't yell, how'll you know I'm starving?"He asked with a smirk.
From the table beside him, a young elf snorted.
"She'll know. You smell like hunger from the door."She said.
"Do not!"Goran said.
"Yes, you do!"Elf smirked.
Their banter earned a few laughs from nearby tables. The energy in the tavern was… warm. Easy. Like family. I turned back to the counter, flipping a pan of cutlets as oil sizzled and popped.
"Careful with those jokes." I called over my shoulder, smiling faintly. "I might start charging extra for loud customers."
A group of newer adventurers sitting near the window perked up.
"Wait, this place isn't expensive already?" One of them asked, half joking, half serious.
The girl beside him shook her head quickly.
"No way! Cheapest in this part of the city. You can get a full meal here for half what the guild taverns charge"She said.
I set a fresh plate of rice and cutlets in front of them.
"I would rather see you all come back alive than charge for every coin you've got." I explained.
That earned me a grin.
"Then we'll make it worth your while, miss. We'll spread the word!"One of the adventurers said..
I pretended to grimace.
"Please don't. I'm barely keeping up as it is."I said.
They laughed, and I found myself smiling despite the long hours. Every day, I saw new faces. Some came because of the rumors, 'the food that boosts stamina', 'the stew that heals faster than potions', 'the goddess's cooking'. That one always made me wince, remembering days when nobody remembered me goodness of cooking. But most came just because it was good food. Honest food. By the end of the week, even adventurers from the middle floors were dropping in. Big, scarred veterans, fresh faced rookies, and everything in between.
"Hey, Miss Vesta!" One of them called, a lanky kid with wild brown hair and a bright grin. "You got any more of that curry thing from yesterday?"
"Do I look like I can make that much curry every day?" I teased.
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Guess not! I'll take the stew then. Best in Orario, no question."He smirked.
Another voice piped up, a woman with twin blades strapped to her back.
"She's right. I ate here once and my party cleared two more dungeon floors than usual. I'm telling you, she's using divine seasoning or something!"She smirked proudly.
"Oi!" I called out from the stove, pretending to scold. "It's just salt and good timing!"
The whole tavern chuckled. It was noisy, chaotic, and a little too hot sometimes, but… it felt alive. Like the city itself had found a heartbeat inside these walls. By nightfall, I wiped down the counter and leaned against it, staring at the last of the candles flickering low. Empty plates covered the tables, and the air smelled like pepper, meat, and satisfaction. Outside, I could hear the city winding down, footsteps fading, the occasional shout of a drunk, the soft hum of Orario at rest. Inside, it was just me and the quiet warmth of what I'd built.
"One week." I whispered to myself, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "One week, and somehow this little place… feels like home again."
I smiled faintly, listening to the echoes of laughter that still lingered in the walls.
"Tomorrow." I murmured, setting the stew pot to soak. "Tomorrow, we make something new."
The next morning came soft and golden, the kind of sunlight that slipped through the window slats like it was shy to disturb the peace. I was halfway through scrubbing the counter when the bell above the door chimed. I blinked, surprised. It was still early, the stove barely warm. A man stood there, a middle aged adventurer, broad-shouldered but kind eyed, his armor worn and polished by years rather than vanity. He held a small bouquet of wildflowers, wrapped in rough paper.
"For you." He said simply, stepping forward.
I blinked.
"For… me?"I asked.
He nodded, his smile a little embarrassed.
"A thank you, Lady Vesta."He said.
My hand froze.
"...What did you just call me?"I asked.
"Lady Vesta." He repeated, bowing his head slightly. "The goddess of the hearth, the one who blesses food. I wasn't sure until last night, but…" He lifted his gaze, eyes shining. "When I ate here, my wounds stopped aching. My fatigue vanished. The flavor, it wasn't mortal cooking. I felt it. I've eaten at temples, in noble halls, in guild feasts. But this… this was divine."
I stared at him, the wooden rag slipping from my hand. My heart gave a strange, heavy thump.
"I think you've mistaken me for someone else." I said softly, turning back toward the counter.
He only smiled wider.
"No mortal could make food like that."He said.
He placed the flowers on the bar, white lilies and soft primroses and lilies, the same flowers I used to adorn my temples long ago. My temples that had long since turned to dust.
"..You remember the old rites?"I swallowed and whispered.
"My mother used to pray to you." He said gently. "Before the war took her. She said, 'vesta's flame doesn't burn, it warms.''"He said,
That… hurt more than I expected. He sat down quietly, like he knew better than to push further.
"If it's alright, Lady Vesta, I would like one bowl of stew. The one that tastes like home."He said.
I hesitated, then nodded, reaching for the ladle.
"Just Vesta." I said quietly. "No titles here."
He smiled, understanding.
"Then one stew, Vesta."He said.
The stew simmered low and gentle, filling the tavern with its familiar warmth. As I ladled it into a bowl, I felt the faint flicker of divine energy slip through, uninvited but stubborn, like a heartbeat I couldn't silence. When I set the bowl down, he inhaled deeply, almost reverently, before taking the first spoonful. His eyes softened instantly, his shoulders relaxing.
"Just like the old prayers said." He murmured. "Warmth in every bite."
I looked away, pretending to tidy the counter, but my chest tightened. He finished the stew slowly, almost ritualistically, and when he stood to leave, he left something beside the empty bowl, a small wooden charm carved with a hearth symbol. My symbol.
"Keep cooking." He said with quiet conviction. "The city needs it. We need you."
When the bell chimed again and he left, I just stood there staring at the flowers on the counter. Primroses and lilies. My flowers. For a long while, I didn't move. Then, with a deep breath, I arranged the bouquet into a small vase and placed it by the window, where the sunlight caught it. If the city remembered me, even in small ways, maybe… I didn't need to hide so hard anymore. I turned back to the stove, whispering under my breath.
"Alright then. Let's feed whoever walks through that door god, mortal, or memory."I whispered.
The next customers came in soon after, laughing adventurers, a tired blacksmith, a wandering bard, but my gaze kept drifting to that bouquet by the window. A quiet reminder that the goddess I once was… wasn't forgotten after all.