The trouble that morning began with the Whetvale Daily newspaper.
"Adventurers Claim Newest Dungeon Goes 6 Levels Deep"
The bold headline sat above an article detailing a fresh dungeon that had appeared along the outskirts of Whetvale—so close it nearly brushed against Frostfall City.
Mokko leaned over Marron’s shoulder, tail flicking as his eyes scanned the print. "Frostfall’s a major town. I wonder if their mages have been experinting with stuff lately?"
Marron blinked, then realization clicked. "Oh! Because Balen ntioned that too much magic made dungeons appear, or sothing?"
"Exactly." Mokko tapped the page with a claw. "If it’s brushing this close to Whetvale, then we’ll probably see a lot more injured adventurers. The deeper the dungeon, the more opportunity for treasure."
Lucy bounced on her chair, tendrils curling with worry. "Does that an... more hurt people? Like yesterday?"
Marron folded the newspaper, her lips pressing into a line. "It might. Which ans we’d better be ready."
By the ti they parked Comfort & Crunch in the Whetvale marketplace, the streets were already humming.
Marron tied her apron in a sharp knot, rolled up her sleeves, and activated her cart’s mass production function. The carved rune panels glowed faintly, doubling her chopping and stirring motions as though she had extra invisible hands.
"Chicken congee, big batches. And keep the broth light but steady," Marron instructed.
Mokko nodded, hauling a sack of rice onto the counter while Lucy began carefully shredding poached chicken with her tendrils.
Steam soon fogged the cart’s canopy, carrying the warm scent of ginger and scallions into the marketplace. She wanted to add more flavor, so she summoned her system.
[Yes, dear chef?]
Can I get so crunchy pork and fish floss, please?
She rembered having congee with fish floss on a plane. Marron had been invited to a conference in another city, and the company paid for her flight. It was still economy, but they fed her well—and that was what kept her from resigning for another four years.
[Earth Pork and Fish Floss, 200 units. That will be 1,000 gold.]
That’s so steep! Marron’s eyes widened even as she kept chopping scallions and garlic.
[It is a specialty ingredient, dear chef. Balance must be upheld.]
She grimaced. After buying reusable bowls and the lamb for adobo, plus their pricey inn stay, her pouch sat at 4,000 gold1. This one order would eat most of that.
Well... you have to spend money to make money. And I believe in this dish.
Okay. If I place an order for 600 units, do I get a discount?
[Your total will be 3,000 gold.]
She nodded. Okay. I agree.
[Your new gold total is 1,000. Thank you for your order!]
The pouch at her belt felt suddenly lighter—alarmingly so. She exhaled, reminding herself that she still had enough for a week’s worth of rice and vegetables. If business slowed, though... things could get tight.
Imdiately, two large boxes appeared at her feet, all full of small pouches labeled Authentic at Floss. There was a photo of either a fish or a pig, denoting what kind was inside.
A few adventurers turned their heads at the announcent, curiosity flickering across their tired faces. The scent of ginger broth did the rest.
"All right. Lucy, before Mokko hands people their bowls, please give them one of the packets from these boxes."
Lucy nodded eagerly. "Gotcha, Mar-Mar! I’ll work together with Mokko."
Marron ladled broth into bowls with swift precision, topping each with a sprinkle of fried garlic, scallions, and a splash of sesa oil.
"Ti for the mont of truth."
Mokko suddenly reared up at the counter, chest puffed out. His roar carried across the busy square:
"Comfort & Crunch is open! Today’s special dish is Healing Chicken Congee, 30g a bowl! If you got one of Marron’s reusable bowls, only 25g!"
She was alard at the price, but Mokko was firm. "Charity doesn’t want you underpricing yourself, rember?"
He wrote down the price on the nu of the day, and stuck with it.
The first wave of custors wasn’t the usual curious townsfolk—it was adventurers. Bandaged arms, limping legs, a few still in dented armor. Word must have spread fast from the guild, or their kitchens were too far for these people.
"Please," one woman rasped, a bloody wrap around her shoulder. "Sothing warm."
Marron slid a bowl toward her without hesitation. The woman sipped once, then exhaled, tension bleeding from her face. "Gods... that’s better than a potion."
Soon a line ford, the injured and weary clutching steaming bowls like lifelines. The cart’s rune glow brightened, matching the frantic pace of Marron’s stirring.
By midday, she heard gossip about healing food throughout the marketplace.
"She’s feeding adventurers—look at them, walking straighter already."
"They say her chicken porridge heals wounds."
"No... really?"
One older adventurer slurped noisily, then sighed in relief. "Heh. Chefs like you are rare nowadays. Most only care about trendy flavors. If you ask , support cooking’s been dying off."
The words stuck in Marron’s chest, echoing Halloway’s concern.
Charity appeared soon after, weaving through the line with a calculating smile. "So it’s true. You’re practically running a battlefield kitchen out here."
Marron wiped her brow with her sleeve, then leaned in close. "It wasn’t the plan. But they need it. And... I like doing it."
Charity’s eyes softened at that, though she hid it with a brisk jot in her notebook. "Then lean into it. Healing cuisine has been overlooked for too long. You might just revive it."
Late in the day, after the worst of the rush, a man in a Culinary Guild apron approached the cart. He looked exhausted, flour still clinging to his sleeves. "One bowl, please. To go."
Marron packed the congee quickly, sealing the heat with a parchnt lid. He paid in coin and slipped away without much explanation.
She didn’t think much of it—until that evening, when a guild apprentice ca jogging up to her cart, cheeks flushed. He carried an envelope stamped with the Culinary Guild’s seal.
"Letter for Marron Louvel," he said breathlessly.
Marron wiped her hands before accepting it, her pulse quickening.
That sa bowl of congee now sat steaming on Guildmaster Halloway’s desk.
The old guildmaster set aside his paperwork and took a spoonful. The ginger warmth spread across his tongue, mingling with tender chicken and grains softened to comfort. But beneath the flavors—sothing else.
Conviction. A willingness to pour herself into food because she believed people deserved to be healed.
He closed his eyes, savoring. Not just the congee, but the intent behind it.
When he set the spoon down, his hand already reached for a sheet of parchnt.
Marron Louvel,
Word of your work has reached again, not from whispers, but from the mouths of those you’ve aided. I find that I must speak with you more formally, not as a host, but as one who bears responsibility for this guild and its legacy.
If you would do the courtesy, please co tomorrow at your earliest convenience.
—Guildmaster Halloway
The letter arrived at Comfort & Crunch just as Marron was wiping down her cart. She unfolded it with careful fingers, heart fluttering with both nerves and anticipation.
"Another eting with the guildmaster," she whispered. "I guess... this ti it’s official."
Mokko grinned, snagging the paper to read over her shoulder. "Told you all those chicken bowls would co back to roost."
Lucy giggled, tendril coiling like a ribbon. "You’re in trouble now—in the good way."
Marron pressed the letter to her chest, smile tugging at her lips. "No running from it this ti. Tomorrow... I’ll give him my answer."
[Marron’s Business Ledger]
Today’s Special: Healing Chicken Congee
Revenue: 9,120g
New gold total: 10,120g
Floss remaining: 280 packets
[Healing Ginger Chicken Congee]
Buffs: Recover 10% HP for 60 seconds and stitch small, visible wounds.
Recipe Class: A
Sold through Cart: AA Taste
I checked my notes and the last gold amount I gave her was around 7,500. I’m trying hard not to pull numbers out of thin air but if there are any inconsistencies with the math, please let know and I will correct them as I go. Thank you!
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