My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!

Chapter 313 313: Marron's First Inn Dinner Service

Madam Lou returned a few minutes later with two iron keys resting neatly on her palm.

"Second floor," she said, placing them into Marron's hand. "Last door on the left and the smaller room beside it. Dinner service begins at sunset. If you intend to begin assisting tonight, Ciel is already preparing stock."

"I'll start tonight," Marron said without hesitation.

Madam Lou studied her expression for a heartbeat, then nodded once. "Good."

The larger guest room was simple but clean.

Two beds with thick quilts. A wide window overlooking the apple tree. A washbasin set on a small wooden stand. The air smelled faintly of dried herbs tucked somewhere unseen.

Mokko stepped inside first, scanning instinctively. Satisfied, he lowered their supplies near the wall.

Lucy's jar was placed carefully on the table by the window, where late afternoon light filtered through the leaves outside.

Marron ran her fingers along the quilt of one bed.

It had been mended in places. Carefully. Patiently.

"Solid," Mokko said.

"Mm."

She moved to the window and pushed it open slightly. A cool breeze drifted in, carrying the scent of apples and distant woodsmoke.

The smaller room next door was narrower, likely once intended for single travelers. It would do well for storage and overflow supplies. Marron stacked a few sacks there neatly, keeping the essentials close at hand.

They didn't unpack fully.

A week meant living lightly.

When she returned to the main room, she paused in the center and let the quiet settle around her.

No guild notices pinned to the wall.

No enchanted artifacts humming faintly in the background.

Just a room.

Temporary, but welcoming.

Marron turned to Mokko. "Ready to meet Ciel?"

He nodded. "I will observe first."

Lucy pulsed in agreement.

The kitchen was located behind a swinging door near the back of the inn.

The moment Marron stepped through, heat wrapped around her. Not oppressive—but active. Alive with work.

Three burners were lit. A large stockpot simmered steadily at the rear. Chopped vegetables lay arranged on a wide central table. The scent of caramelized onions and bones drifted through the air.

At the counter stood a woman in her early thirties, sleeves rolled up, dark hair braided tightly down her back. She moved with efficient precision—knife rising and falling in steady rhythm.

She glanced up when Marron entered.

Sharp eyes. Appraising.

"You must be the temporary help," she said.

"Marron," she replied.

"Ciel."

They held each other's gaze for a brief second.

Then Ciel jerked her chin toward a stack of carrots. "Wash. Peel. Even cuts. No waste."

Marron didn't argue.

She rolled her sleeves up and stepped to the sink.

The water was cool against her fingers. She scrubbed the carrots thoroughly, trimming away rough edges but keeping usable flesh intact. Her knife moved carefully, matching Ciel's rhythm rather than competing with it.

No legendary perfection.

Just clean, consistent slices.

Ciel watched out of the corner of her eye.

"You've done this before," she observed.

"Yes."

"Restaurant?"

"Diner," Marron corrected automatically.

Ciel's lips twitched faintly. "Harder."

"Arguably."

They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes.

Ciel slid a pan toward her. "Taste."

Marron dipped a spoon into the simmering stock.

It was rich but slightly flat at the end. She considered the layers—bone, onion, a hint of bay.

"Needs salt," she said, "but not much. And something to lift it."

Ciel folded her arms. "Such as?"

Marron scanned the prep table, then reached for a small splash of vinegar. She added only a few drops, stirred, and tasted again.

Ciel took the spoon from her and tried it herself.

A pause.

Then a small nod.

"Fine."

Not praise.

But acceptance.

Dinner service began quickly.

Farmers filtered in first, dusty and tired. A traveling merchant followed. Two young men who looked like minor adventurers took a corner table and spoke loudly about something that had clearly not gone as planned.

Marron found her place naturally—plating, adjusting seasoning, wiping edges clean before dishes left the kitchen.

Lucy floated near the washbasin, carefully absorbing grease and food scraps from used plates before they were rinsed properly. She worked methodically, pulsing brighter whenever she finished a stack.

Mokko hauled in an extra crate of firewood without being asked and kept the storage area organized.

Ciel noticed.

"You train your team well," she said quietly between orders.

"They're not employees," Marron replied.

"No," Ciel agreed. "They're not."

As the evening deepened, the pace steadied into rhythm. Orders called. Pans shifted. Steam rose and dissipated.

No pressure to impress.

Just feed.

When the last table paid and the doors closed for the night, Marron leaned against the counter and exhaled.

Her muscles ached pleasantly.

Ciel wiped her hands and glanced sideways at her.

"You're not staying," she said.

It wasn't a question.

Marron shook her head. "No."

Ciel nodded once. "Shame."

A beat.

"But good."

Marron tilted her head slightly.

"You cook like someone who's still moving," Ciel explained. "Staying too long would dull that."

Marron smiled faintly. "You've run this kitchen a while."

"Ten years."

"That's long enough to know."

Ciel gave a small shrug. "Long enough."

They cleaned the last surfaces in quiet understanding.

When Marron stepped back into the lobby, Madam Lou was seated at one of the small tables, a cup of tea cradled between her hands.

"You did well," she said without looking up.

"You were listening?"

"I always listen."

Marron smiled tiredly.

Madam Lou's amber eyes lifted slowly.

"You are lighter," she observed.

"I gave something up," Marron said.

"Yes."

The single word carried more weight than the conversation deserved.

Marron hesitated, then asked, "Do you ever regret staying in one place for so long?"

Madam Lou's gaze drifted toward the staircase, then to the apple tree visible through the front window.

"Regret?" she repeated softly. "No."

She took a slow sip of tea.

"But I chose it."

That seemed important.

Marron nodded.

Upstairs, the room welcomed her back with cool air and quiet shadows.

She sat on the edge of the bed and removed her shoes, listening to the faint creak of wood, the distant murmur of wind through leaves.

Lucy dimmed to a soft glow.

Mokko lay near the door, already half-dozing.

Marron stretched out on the quilt and stared at the ceiling.

Her life had not ended when she left the guild.

It had not collapsed when she surrendered the tools.

Instead, it had opened sideways—into towns like this. Kitchens like this. Evenings that ended in honest exhaustion rather than tension.

She turned onto her side, facing the window.

Outside, the apple tree swayed gently.

For the first time in a long while, she did not feel pulled forward by destiny.

She felt… paused.

And for now, that was enough.