Day four began with rain. It was a steady drizzle that turned the abandoned market into a landscape of mud and mist. Marron stood in her cart's doorway and watched water drip from teh canvas awning.
"I wonder if anyone will stop by today."
"They'll come," Mokko said from where he'd taken shelter under a nearby foundation overhang.
"People still need to eat, rain or shine."
Of course, he was right.
The first customer arrived mid-morning—a older woman with a shawl pulled over her head and a walking stick that squelched in the mud with each step.
"Is that coffee I smell?" she called out in Common Tongue, her voice hopeful.
Marron blinked. She hadn't made coffee. She didn't even have coffee beans.
But when she turned to check the storage, a small tin was sitting on the counter. It definitely hadn't been there a minute ago.
The cart, she realized.
She opened the tin and found roasted beans that smelled rich and earthy. A small hand grinder sat next to it—also new.
"Thank you," she whispered.
The drawer containing filters and a pour-over setup slid open helpfully.
"Yes!" the woman exclaimed when Marron confirmed. "Oh bless you, dear. I've been walking since dawn and I'm chilled to the bone."
Marron had never made pour-over coffee before, but her hands seemed to know what to do. Grind the beans—not too fine, not too coarse. Heat the water to just below boiling. Wet the filter. Pour in steady circles.
The cart's stove held the temperature perfectly.
[DISH CREATED: SIMPLE BLACK COFFEE][1]
[QUALITY: ADEQUATE]
[EFFECTS: Warming, energizing, comforting]
The woman wrapped both hands around the cup and breathed in the steam like it was medicine. "How much?"
"Five silver?"
"Highway robbery for coffee this good, but I'll pay it happily." She pressed the coins into Marron's hand. "You're a lifesaver, girl."
She left walking a bit straighter, the rain seeming less miserable now.
Marron looked at the coffee setup. "Where did this even come from?"
"The cart provides what it thinks you need," Mokko called from outside. "Sometimes it's uncanny. Other times it's just showing off."
"Well, I'm not complaining."
The second customer came just after noon—a young man who couldn't have been older than twenty, with nervous energy and ink-stained fingers.
"Do you have anything quick?" he asked in Common, words tumbling out fast. "I'm on a delivery run and I'm already behind schedule, but I haven't eaten since yesterday and—"
"I've got you," Marron interrupted gently. "Give me five minutes."
She'd been practicing her knife work every spare moment, and it showed. The vegetables she chopped for a quick stir-fry were more uniform now, almost professional. Her hands moved with growing confidence as she heated the pan, added a touch of oil—
The oil popped.
Marron flinched back, heart racing, memories of childhood burns flooding back.
Mom wanted me to practice stir-fry, and when I put the vegetables in, the oil popped so bad my skin blistered.
Mom was so worried back then.
"I'm so sorry Marron--you don't have to cook anymore. Just help me prep the food, okay?"
Before she could spiral further, however, Mokko's voice interrupted her thoughts.
"You're doing fine," Mokko called. "Just keep the heat steady. Don't let it get too hot."
She took a breath and adjusted the flame with her mind. The oil settled. She added the vegetables carefully, keeping her face back from the pan.
The stir-fry came together quickly—crisp vegetables with a touch of salt and the same thyme-like herb she'd been using. Simple, fast, filling.
[DISH CREATED: SIMPLE VEGETABLE STIR-FRY]
[QUALITY: GOOD]
[EFFECTS: Quick energy, satisfying]
Good.
It wasn't adequate anymore, but good.
Marron felt a warm bloom of pride.
"This is perfect," the young man said, already eating as he counted out silver. "I'll be back. This is exactly what I needed."
He was gone in a whirl of motion, but he left fifteen silver and a genuine smile.
Two for two today.
Day five brought sun and a steady stream of customers.
A farmer who traded fresh eggs for rice and vegetables. "You'll get more use out of these than I will," he said. "Been trying to sell them in Thornhaven but the prices are terrible."
A traveling merchant who paid well for grilled fish and asked intelligent questions about her cooking methods. "You're new at this," he observed, but not unkindly. "But you've got heart. That matters."
A mother with three children who spoke in a dialect Marron almost understood—Common Tongue but with an accent that made half the words slip past her comprehension. Mokko had to translate some of it, but Marron caught enough to understand they wanted "something soft for little teeth."
She made rice porridge, sweetened with honey and a touch of the berries she'd been saving. The children ate it happily while their mother watched with tired, grateful eyes.
[DISH CREATED: SIMPLE SWEET PORRIDGE]
[QUALITY: GOOD]
[EFFECTS: Gentle on digestion, comforting, nourishing]
"You have babies of your own?" the mother asked in broken Common.
"No," Marron said. "But my mother used to make this for me when I was sick."
The woman smiled and pressed extra coins into her hand. "Good memory. Good food. Thank you."
As the family left, Marron realized something.
She hadn't thought about her old job in three days.
Hadn't worried about metrics or quotas or Derek's disappointed face. Hadn't felt that hollow, grinding anxiety that used to follow her everywhere.
She was just... here. Cooking. Talking to people. Watching them leave happier than they'd arrived.
"You're smiling," Mokko observed.
"I am?"
"You've been smiling all day." He adjusted his glasses. "It's good to see."
Marron touched her face, surprised to find it was true. Her cheeks ached slightly from using muscles she'd forgotten she had.
"I think I'm happy," she said, and the words felt strange. Foreign. But true.
"Good," Mokko said simply. "Happy chefs make better food."
Day six was the busiest yet.
Word had spread faster than Marron expected. People came from Thornhaven, from the eastern farmlands, from villages she hadn't even heard of. Some spoke Common Tongue. Others spoke in languages she couldn't follow—Animal Tongue, regional dialects, trading pidgin that mixed three languages into one.
Mokko translated when needed. The cart provided ingredients she didn't know she had. And Marron cooked.
Simple food. One ingredient, prepared well. But with each dish, she felt herself improving.
Her knife cuts were cleaner. Her heat control was more intuitive. She could tell when rice was done without lifting the lid. She knew when fish needed another minute just by the smell.
[DISH CREATED: SIMPLE GRILLED CHICKEN]
[QUALITY: GOOD]
[DISH CREATED: HERB TEA]
[QUALITY: GOOD]
[DISH CREATED: ROASTED VEGETABLES]
[QUALITY: GOOD]
Good. Good. Good.
Not perfect. Not exceptional. But consistently good.
"You're finding your rhythm," Mokko said that evening as they cleaned up. "Took most chefs twice as long."
"I had a good teacher," Marron replied. "Two, actually."
He understood she meant him and her mother both.
That night, she sat in her cart with the door open, watching stars appear over Meadowbrook Commons. Her coin pouch was heavier than it had ever been. Her hands were sore but capable. Her back ached from standing all day, but it was the good kind of ache—the kind that came from work that mattered.
She'd served maybe thirty people over the past six days. Thirty meals. Thirty moments of connection.
In her old life, she'd have processed thirty emails before lunch and felt nothing.
Here, each person had a face. A story. A moment where she'd helped, even just a little.
"Maybe this is enough," she said quietly to the cart. "Maybe I don't need to rank up. Maybe G-rank and simple food is exactly where I'm supposed to be."
The cart's interior seemed to warm slightly, as if in agreement.
But somewhere in the back of her mind, a small voice whispered: But what if you could do more?
She pushed the thought away and went to sleep, content.
Tomorrow would be day seven. It would be different, but she had no way of knowing that yet.
Someone would come and test "enough" was really enough after all.
[1] How do we feel about not having the Ding! anymore? I wanted it to be clear that this is just the notification popup without adding an extra word.