My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!

Chapter 310 310: Hi Again, Balen

The town announced itself with a wooden sign that leaned slightly to the left.

No grand stone gate. No guards in polished armor. Just a wide dirt road that narrowed into a main street lined with modest buildings—plastered walls, tiled roofs, shutters thrown open to catch the afternoon breeze.

Marron slowed the Food Cart as they entered.

"This looks promising," she murmured.

Mokko sniffed the air. "Bread," he said immediately. "Fresh."

She smiled. "Then we chose well."

There were a handful of shops—a greengrocer with baskets set out front, a butcher with hooks gleaming inside, a general goods store with bolts of fabric hanging in the doorway. Further down, she spotted two restaurants. One had paper lanterns strung under the eaves. The other displayed a chalkboard menu written in careful script.

Not grand.

But cared for.

"We should restock here," Marron said. "If we don't, we're rationing until the next town."

"Or foraging," Mokko offered mildly.

She gave him a look.

"I've been in two dungeons," she said. "That does not make me a skilled forager."

"You survived."

"Barely. And that was with… help."

She didn't elaborate.

The Food Cart rolled steadily over the packed dirt of the main street. A few townsfolk glanced at them curiously but not suspiciously. Travelers weren't rare here.

Lucy pulsed softly in her jar, content.

Marron guided the cart toward the greengrocer first. The display was simple but abundant—leafy greens still damp from washing, bright carrots, small purple eggplants, onions bundled with twine. A crate of unfamiliar pale root vegetables caught her eye.

She crouched slightly to inspect them.

"Excuse me—"

"Marron!"

The voice cut across the street.

Familiar.

Bright.

She straightened immediately and turned.

He stood near the well at the center of town, one hand raised high as if afraid she might disappear before he confirmed it was really her.

Tanned skin. White hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck. Eyes that caught light like polished glass.

"Balen?" she called back, disbelief blooming into a grin.

He crossed the distance in long strides.

"What are you doing here?!" they both said at the same time.

They laughed.

Up close, he looked the same—broad-shouldered, sun-browned, with that easy, confident posture of someone who had learned long ago how to move through the world without flinching.

"I could ask you that," he said. "Last I heard, you were tangled up in guild politics and Legendary artifacts."

"I was," she admitted. "Past tense."

His eyebrows rose. "That sounds like a story."

"It is."

He glanced at the Food Cart, at Mokko's massive bear form standing calmly beside it, at Lucy's jar.

"And you're traveling now?"

"For a while," she said. "We're restocking."

Balen's grin widened. "Then you picked the right place."

He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm visiting family. They run the mill just past the river. I come back every few months to make sure my younger cousins aren't turning the machinery into a death trap."

"That sounds very specific."

"It is."

Mokko inclined his head politely. "You are a friend?"

Balen looked up at him without hesitation. "I am."

He extended a hand.

Mokko stared at it for half a second, then gently shook it with one massive paw.

"Balen," he said.

"Mokko," the bear replied.

Lucy pulsed brightly.

"And this?" Balen gestured.

"Lucy," Marron said. "She's… family."

Balen nodded as if that required no further explanation.

"So," he said, clapping his hands together lightly, "what are you low on?"

"Everything," Marron said honestly. "Vegetables. Protein. Dry goods. Probably common sense."

Balen laughed. "You won't find that in the shops."

He turned and began walking, clearly assuming they would follow.

They did.

As they moved through town, Balen pointed things out casually.

"The butcher's honest. Don't let him upsell you on the spiced cuts unless you actually want them. The baker over there makes good rye in the mornings but by afternoon it's mostly gone. The woman at the dried goods stall? She'll give you better prices if you ask about her granddaughter first."

"You've mapped this place socially," Marron observed.

"Of course," he said. "You think I just visit and sit quietly?"

They stopped at a stall selling grains and noodles. Balen exchanged quick greetings with the older man running it, then stepped aside so Marron could inspect the offerings.

She ran her fingers through a sack of rice.

Good quality. Clean. No stones.

"I'll take two measures," she said.

The vendor nodded and began scooping.

Balen watched her quietly for a moment.

"You look different," he said.

She glanced at him. "That's the second time I've heard that this week."

"Good different," he clarified. "Less… stretched."

"That's a polite way of saying exhausted."

He didn't deny it.

"You were carrying something heavy last time we spoke," he said. "I didn't know what it was. Just that it wasn't just cooking."

Marron accepted the bag of rice and paid.

"I set it down," she said simply.

Balen studied her face, then nodded once.

"Good."

They continued from stall to stall. Fresh greens. Eggs. A small cut of pork. Dried mushrooms. Soy paste.

Mokko carried most of it without complaint.

At one point, Balen stopped abruptly in front of a small shop with a painted sign depicting a bowl of steaming soup.

"You should try this place," he said. "My aunt runs it."

"You're full of relatives," Marron said.

"Big family."

He pushed open the door and gestured them inside.

The interior was warm and clean. A few tables. A counter near the back where a woman with streaks of white in her dark hair was stirring a pot.

She looked up.

"Balen," she said, fond exasperation in her tone. "You're supposed to be at the mill."

"I am," he said smoothly. "After this."

Her eyes shifted to Marron and the others.

"Friends?"

"Yes," he said. "Important ones."

That seemed to satisfy her.

"You'll eat, then," she said, already reaching for bowls.

Marron hesitated. "We just had soba."

Balen leaned closer and whispered, "You never refuse my aunt's soup."

Marron smiled and took a seat.

They ate together at one of the small wooden tables.

The soup was simple—clear broth, thin slices of root vegetables, bits of chicken—but it tasted like something that had been perfected over decades rather than optimized for spectacle.

Marron found herself relaxing further.

"So," Balen said between bites, "where are you headed?"

She stirred her soup slowly.

"Not sure," she admitted. "Away from big cities. Away from being… necessary."

"That sounds like someone who just resigned from something," he said lightly.

She laughed. "That's almost exactly what Jenny said."

"Jenny?"

"Another Earth cook."

"Ah."

He nodded, accepting that too.

"You're welcome to stay a few days," he said. "There's space. And if you're traveling with a cart, it's better to rest somewhere with solid ground before the next stretch."

Marron glanced at Mokko.

The bear gave a small shrug. "Restocking is easier when not rushed."

Lucy pulsed in quiet agreement.

Marron looked back at Balen.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "We're not exactly subtle."

He glanced at Mokko's towering form, then at the Food Cart outside the window.

"We'll manage," he said simply.

She felt something warm settle in her chest.

"Alright," she said. "A few days."

Balen grinned.

"Good," he said. "You can tell me what you set down."

Outside, the small town continued its quiet rhythm—unaware that for Marron, this unassuming stop had become something else.

Not a destination.

But a pause chosen freely.