CHAPTER 33: FLOUR AND EXPERIENCE

The rolls came out of the oven golden-brown, crackling like tiny fireplaces as Marron pulled them free with her thick cloth mitts. She brushed them with melted butter, watched it sink into the crust, and couldn’t help smiling as the scent wrapped around the kitchen like a hug.

The system chimed softly in her ear.

[Congratulations! You have earned 500 XP from baking.]

[Current XP: 2,300.]

Marron blinked. "Wait... I get XP from bread?"

Mokko raised an eyebrow from where he leaned against the counter, arms folded. "Of course. Flavor fuels growth here. You cooked, others enjoyed — why wouldn’t it count?"

Lucy popped her head out of her jar like a jack-in-the-box. "Bread is powerful. You could even conquer kingdoms with them!"

Marron laughed, brushing flour from her apron. "If that’s true, then I’m well on my way to world domination."

Still, she opened the menu with a nervous little swallow.

Numbers stared back at her: 2,300 XP. She tapped to allocate.

[Self: +200 XP to Cooking Skill Rank II.

Mokko: +100 XP to Knife Technique Passive Boost.

Food Cart: +200 XP to Durability Upgrade.

Lucy: +500 XP to Slime Core Enhancement (Tier II).]

Marron paused on Lucy’s name, her thumb hovering over the confirm button. "Are you sure you’re ready for another upgrade?"

"Yes," Lucy said immediately. "Wanna be useful."

Mokko chuckled. "She’s earned it. Between mailing letters and eating half our flour, she’s basically the cornerstone of this group."

Marron pressed confirm.

Lucy froze mid-bounce, her jelly-like body glowing brighter and brighter until the jar’s glass scattered tiny prismatic patterns across the kitchen walls. Marron leaned closer, nervous, but Mokko held her shoulder.

"Don’t touch. Let it finish."

With a shhh-pop, Lucy’s glow dimmed back to normal, but her body gleamed with a faint rainbow sheen. She wobbled experimentally, then suddenly split into two smaller Lucys, both giggling in the same squeaky voice.

"Look! There’s Double Lucy!"

Marron’s jaw dropped. "You can... duplicate?"

"Only a little," both Lucys chorused. "And only for a short time." They quickly bounced back together into one, sighing dreamily. "Worth it."

Mokko’s lips twitched into the closest thing he ever had to a grin. "She’s going to be impossible to keep out of trouble now."

"Already was," Marron muttered, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

The smile lingered even as anxiety nipped its way in, sharp and quick as a mosquito bite.

She set the XP menu aside and leaned her elbows on the table. Bread cooling on the racks. Supplies stacked in neat bundles by the wall. Two letters from rulers of Savoria pinned above the table like honored guardians.

It should have felt like a triumph. Instead, her chest buzzed with nerves.

"I don’t get it," Marron mumbled. "Everyone keeps treating what I did like some miracle. But I just... served dinner."

Mokko sliced a roll cleanly in half, steam spiraling upward. "We keep telling you. In Savoria, flavor is power. And you convinced rivals to eat together. That’s not a trick. That’s strength."

Lucy puffed herself up like a balloon. "Yes! You are not an imposter. You are Marron, slayer of hunger!"

+

The words made Marron laugh so suddenly she almost choked. She pressed her hands to her cheeks, shaking her head. "Slayer of hunger. Great. Putting that on my future business cards."

But when her laughter settled, the flutter in her chest remained.

Later, Marron scribbled in her notebook, fingers tapping the pencil nervously.

Patch roofs.

Repair well.

Barrel placement.

Signs: welcoming, not intimidating.

Maybe Culinary Guild??

Her handwriting sagged. She chewed her lip, staring at the words Culinary Guild.

"Do you think maybe... I should look into one?" she asked. "I mean, if it keeps Meadowbrook safe?"

Mokko shrugged. "Guilds are politics. They’ll give you backing, sure. But they might chain you too. Depends what you want more: safety or freedom."

Lucy grumbled. "Guild sounds boring. Too many rules. They would not let me duplicate whenever I want."

Marron tore the page out and slid it under the letters from the rulers, like hiding the thought under a rug. "Maybe not yet."

The smell of bread carried farther than she realized. The knock at the balcony door startled her, flour dust still on her hands.

Two young carpenters stood there, each clutching bundles of scavenged wood. Their vests were patched with the awkward stitches of apprentices.

One of them (a snakekin boy with amber eyes) ducked his head. "Excuse me, Chef Marron? Sorry to bother you. We smelled your bread..."

Marron hesitated, then smiled weakly. "Oh. Uh... come in. I’ve got plenty."

The apprentices stepped inside like they were trespassing into a palace. Marron passed them warm rolls, and they held them with reverence, as if afraid to bite.

"You probably don’t remember me," the snakekin apprentice said. "I was at the Feast. When you got the Snake Queen and Lord Jackal to sit at the same table."

Marron blushed. "I just cooked dinner."

"No," he said quickly. "You showed me that it doesn’t matter if you start small. If you love something enough, you can change how people see you. I...I want to be a carpenter, not just cut wood for others. So...thank you."

Marron blinked fast, her throat tightening. She managed, "You’re...welcome."

The apprentices offered to help. "If you’ve got wood to spare, we’ll patch the rest of the roof beams at Meadowbrook. In exchange for a dozen rolls?"

Marron hesitated, her impostor voice hissing that she hadn’t earned this, that it was just a dinner, that she didn’t deserve to inspire anyone.

But Mokko nudged her with the faintest smile. "Take the help. They want to give it."

So Marron exhaled and nodded. "Deal. You’ll get more than rolls. I’ll make stew."

The apprentices grinned wide enough to split their faces.

That night, Marron sat with the lantern’s glow flickering over her bread, her notebook, and her two companions. Lucy bounced gently, duplicating into two miniature slimes that flopped into Marron’s lap, giggling.

She thought of the apprentice’s shy words. I want to be a carpenter, not just cut wood.

Maybe impostor feelings weren’t a curse. Maybe they were just proof you cared — about not letting people down, about wanting to do things right. The apprentices were nervous too, but they kept building anyway.

Marron stroked Lucy’s glass jar as the little slime split and recombined. "Guess I’ll just... build anyway."

Her chest still buzzed, but it no longer felt sharp. It felt like the hum of a kitchen in motion.

And maybe that was enough.