My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!

Chapter 308 308: Meeting Jenny Again

The first day after she ceased her "job" to collect Legendary Tools, she didn't celebrate her new situation, but decided to live life a little.

After attending the Culinary guild meeting, she had no itinerary. The others on the council were surprised at her abrupt decision, but respected it overall.

"If it's been returned to a Cooking Dungeon," one of the council members said, "then it will pose little threat to our land. It would be more dangerous in a monster-infested one."

For once, Marron wasn't anxious because of a summons or an upcoming evaluation. She was just a regular cook again, and learning was the name of the game now. Her usefulness was no longer being measured in a microscope.

"Since that is the case," Marron said softly. "May I leave?"

Edmund looked at her and smiled. "Of course. If there are any oddities you encounter in your journey, please let us know."

Deep inside, Marron felt like there weren't going to be any, but one could never be too sure.

"I promise."

+

She bathed, dressed, and left her lodgings with nothing but her cloak, a few coins, and the food cart trailing behind her. The cart rolled more quietly than it once had, its wood a shade duller, but it still followed her with the same steady loyalty it always had.

Lumeria opened itself to her in a way it hadn't before.

Without a destination, the city felt larger. Streets she'd hurried through revealed small details—etched doorframes, chalk marks from children's games, the way certain buildings leaned toward one another as if sharing secrets. She let herself wander, stopping when something smelled good, when laughter caught her ear, when curiosity tugged harder than habit.

That was how she found Jenny.

Or rather, how she found the line.

It stretched halfway down a narrow side street near one of the smaller plazas. Nothing grand—no permanent stalls, no polished signage—but the air was thick with the unmistakable smell of grilled meat and warm bread. People clustered close, talking animatedly, coins already in hand.

At the center of it all stood a woman with dark hair pulled into a messy knot, sleeves rolled up, hands moving with practiced ease.

Jenny.

Marron stopped a few paces back, watching.

The grill was simple, fueled by a contained heat crystal set low enough not to scorch. On it sat rows of sausages, browning evenly, their casings blistered just enough to snap. Beside the grill was a pot of water that looked… ordinary. Perfectly clear. No herbs. No visible additives.

And yet, as Jenny dipped a ladle in and poured a small splash over a finished sausage before placing it in a bun, the scent changed—subtly sweet, warm, familiar in a way Marron hadn't expected.

Banana.

Not strong. Not obvious. Just a whisper of it, folded into salt and smoke.

Jenny worked fast, chatting as she went.

"Two pink popcorn, one hotdog—no, yes, extra crunch, I remember—here you go, careful, it's hot."

Pink popcorn sat in paper cones nearby, the kernels dusted with a fine rose-colored sugar. Marron spotted a child carefully licking the coating off each piece before eating it, eyes wide with concentration. Another stall held skewers of simple grilled vegetables, brushed with oil and salt. Nothing flashy. Nothing optimized.

All of it sold steadily.

Marron stepped forward when the line thinned.

"One grilled hotdog," she said. "Please."

Jenny glanced up—and then did a double take.

"Marron?" Her grin spread instantly. "Well I'll be damned. Look at you."

She turned back to the grill without missing a beat. "You look… different."

Marron laughed softly. "Good different or alarming different?"

"Good," Jenny said easily. She flipped a sausage, then glanced sideways again. "Less frazzled. Less like you're carrying three invisible deadlines on your back. Like you finally resigned from a job or something."

Marron snorted before she could stop herself. "Something like that. Funny how even in this world, leaving a job makes you feel better."

Jenny slid the finished hotdog into a bun, added a thin line of mustard-like paste, then poured that clear water over it with a small flourish. The scent bloomed again.

"Well," Jenny said, handing it over, "there's always your food cart. It's why I like this instead of working in a restaurant."

She gestured vaguely at the street, the open sky overhead. "No stress. No manager breathing down my neck. And if I don't make money today, it's on me."

Marron accepted the hotdog, fingers warm against the paper wrap. She took a bite.

It was perfect.

Not in the supernatural sense. Not flawless. But balanced. The sweetness from the banana extract didn't read as banana so much as memory—like a childhood snack eaten on a summer day, like something you couldn't quite name but trusted anyway.

She swallowed and smiled. "You're doing well."

Jenny shrugged. "Turns out people here really like homely food. Stuff that doesn't try to impress them. Pink popcorn's a hit. So are these."

She nodded at the hotdogs. "They don't know what they are, but they don't care. Tastes good. Fills you up. Makes you feel… grounded."

Marron leaned against a nearby post, eating slowly. "You ever miss Earth?"

Jenny's hands paused for just a second before she shrugged again. "Sometimes. Mostly the little stuff. But this?" She waved at the stall, the customers, the street. "This feels like something I chose. That helps."

Marron nodded. She understood that now.

The food cart behind her creaked softly, as if settling. Marron reached back and rested a hand against its side. The wood was warm from the sun, solid beneath her palm.

She finished the hotdog, wiped her hands, and met Jenny's eyes.

"I'm glad you're here," she said.

Jenny smiled, genuine and a little tired. "Yeah. Me too."

Marron stepped back into the flow of the city a few minutes later, the taste of smoke and sweetness lingering.

For the first time in a long while, she wasn't being pulled anywhere.

She was just… going.