CHAPTER 72: THE TRUTH IS... (PART 2)

Marron felt like she was wearing a lead cloak lined with the weight of responsibility. "So...I’ve just been a walking target, all this time?"

"Yes and no." Halloway leaned forward. "Legendary Tools aren’t just artifacts that improve your culinary skills. They’re also how humans defend themselves against the forces that seek them.

"Legendary Tools aren’t just sources of power. They’re also weapons against the very forces that seek them. Your cart doesn’t just enhance cooking—it can seal dungeon breaches. Permanently."

The revelation hung in the air between them. Marron stared at her hands, thinking of every meal she’d prepared, every satisfied customer, every moment of pride in her cooking. How much of it had been real?

"I need to see it," she said suddenly, standing. "I need to see the cart."

Halloway nodded. "We should all see it. If we’re going to plan our next move—"

But his words were cut off by a commotion near the guild entrance. Shouts echoed through the halls, growing closer and more frantic.

"Guildmaster!" A young apprentice burst into the common area, his face flushed with running.

"Come quickly! Something’s wrong with the food carts in the market!"

+

That was the first time Marron truly felt fear.

She was already moving before her mind could process it, pulling open the door and running off with desperate urgency.

Behind her, she heard Halloway curse and Charity’s chair scrape against the floor. But all she could think about was the cart—her cart, the Legendary Tool she’d woken up in. The source of her success, and now, apparent danger.

They burst out of the guild and into the afternoon sunlight, running through Whetvale’s winding streets toward the market square. Other guild members followed, their expressions grim and fearful.

When they reached Marron’s usual spot, they saw...

...a cart. Parked exactly where she would have, if she set up to sell food for today. Marron saw the same scratches on the wood and the same arrangement of cooking implements.

But she knew it was wrong.

She felt no connection to this thing. It was like someone just parked their car in her house’s driveway.

Marron put a hand on the handle and the metal felt ordinary.

There was no underlying warmth, like the food cart knew she was there.

"This isn’t mine," she whispered.

Mokko padded closer, his nose twitching as he investigated. After a moment, he stepped back with a low growl. "It smells wrong. Like the mimic’s cooking. Empty."

Lucy extended a tentative tendril toward the cart, then recoiled immediately. "Cold," she said. "No magic, or heart."

+

Halloway examined the cart, and frowned. "If this is a perfect copy of your cart, we need to know for sure. Maybe someone else parked their cart here."

Charity laughed, but there was no mirth behind it. "You’re nicer than me, Guildmaster. I’m sure a mimic swapped it."

"Yes, but...we have to examine every possible angle. Cook something with this, Marron."

Marron’s hands shook as she lit the burners. The onions sizzled, spices bloomed—but the familiar lift, that shimmer of flavor she always felt when cooking with the cart, wasn’t there. She felt disconnected, but tried her best to create some omelet rice.

It looks perfectly fine, but...what are the buffs from the food?

She heard a soft hum in her head, like the system was scanning her dish.

Ding!

There are no buffs associated with this dish. It is a common Earth omelet rice.

Marron’s pink eyes widened. "That’s...weird." Usually people would feel something whenever she cooked food.

But I also have very few recipes where there are guaranteed buffs, so it might be a fluke?

Mokko heard her mumble and said quietly, "What’s up?"

"My System says this food has no buffs."

He raised an eyebrow. "...did you use any ingredients from Savoria?"

She nodded. "The only eggs we have, we bought from the duck trader."

"Mm. Might be a rank thing, then?"

She shrugged. "Maybe."

When she noticed Halloway and Charity looking at them strangely, she smiled. "Sorry. Just double-checking that I made the right dish."

She started plating portions for them and herself.

One by one, guild members tasted. Frowns followed.

"It’s good," one said carefully. "But just food."

+

"Can you cook something with an effect, Marron?" Halloway asked gently.

Marron tried her congee next, her pride and reputation. It came out identical to the eye, rich and fragrant, but when Halloway tasted it, he set his spoon down.

"Adequate. But it won’t heal like yours used to do. Might patch up scratches, at most. But it’s painfully ordinary."

The words landed like blows. Ordinary. Was that all she was without the cart?

"Don’t," Mokko said firmly. "The cart doesn’t create skill. It only amplifies it."

"Magic can’t make bad cooking good," Lucy added, tendrils squeezing her wrist. "Only makes good cooking better."

Halloway nodded. "We don’t always cook magic food, but if you can’t coax the proper effect like you used to...then this is, indeed, a fake."

He looked at the cart. "Looks identical, but hollow."

"Where’s the real one?" Marron asked, though part of her already knew the answer.

Charity had been examining the ground around the false cart. Now she straightened, her face pale. "Wheel tracks," she said, pointing toward the street. "Leading toward the city outskirts."

They followed the tracks in grim silence, past the merchant quarter, past the residential areas, past the last outposts of civilization. The trail led inexorably toward the dark mouth of the dungeon that had spawned so much trouble.

At the dungeon’s entrance, the wheel tracks disappeared into the shadows beyond the reach of daylight. But the message was clear.

"It’s in there," Marron said, staring into the depths. "Comfort & Crunch is somewhere inside that dungeon."

Halloway placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Along with whatever took it. And now that it has a Legendary Tool, that dungeon will grow stronger by the hour."

The choice lay before them like a blade. Let the dungeon consume the cart and face the consequences of a massively empowered magical breach, or venture into the depths to retrieve it—following the same path that had led to Juno’s death.

But as Marron stared into the dungeon’s hungry darkness, she knew there was really no choice at all.

The cart wasn’t just a tool. It was her identity, and her connection to this world.

She was responsible for caring for this Legendary Tool.

But more importantly, she didn’t want to become another Juno, whose tragic tale outlived her, instead of her recipes.

+

They followed the wheel tracks through Whetvale’s edge, gouged deep into the soil. The trail ended at the dungeon’s mouth. It looked like a massive obsidian tower, with a gate gaping like a wound.

Stale air rolled out of it, thick with damp earth and hunger.

Some guild members had decided to accompany Marron out of curiosity, and they balked.

"We should organize. Wait for adventurers. Specialists—"

"There’s no time," Marron cut in. "If they feed my cart to that dungeon, they can make it stronger instead of seal it. Time is of the essence."

"You’re a newbie," someone shot back. "A special one, but new nonetheless. What happens if you charge in there and get killed?"

Guildmaster Halloway’s mouth was set in a thin line.

"We will not have another Juno incident."

Silence followed, sharp and cutting.

Marron’s jaw tightened. "A mimic swapped lives with Juno, and killed her. And a mimic stole my food cart. My source of livelihood--and the reason I was able to heal so many adventurers. The difference matters."

She pointed to the fake Comfort & Crunch. "I won’t let that become my legacy."

Mokko stepped forward without hesitation. "She doesn’t go alone."

"Lucy too!" the slime chirped, clinging tighter.

+

Charity sighed, pressing a small crystal into Marron’s hand. "A communication stone. If you’re in danger, break it."

Halloway studied her, then finally gave a slow nod.

"You are new to the guild, but it is true. Comfort & Crunch is registered to you, and is your responsibility. You may try to reclaim the cart. But remember this: Juno failed because she went alone. Don’t repeat her mistake."

Marron squared her shoulders. "I won’t."

"And if you fail to return in a week," Halloway said quietly, "we will search for you ourselves."

They both knew that he really meant "We’ll search for your bodies."

And Marron hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

As she packed a few knives and supplies, an old woman tugged at her sleeve. One of her regulars. She unfolded a silk square with trembling hands, revealing a small antique tinderbox.

"It’s dangerous for a chef to leave without fire," she said.

Marron’s throat tightened. "Thank you. I’ll take care of it."

Together, Marron, Mokko, and Lucy crossed the threshold. The stone floor groaned under their boots, shadows pressing close. Marron’s first breath of dungeon air tasted of mold and iron. She gripped her knife tighter.

Then the floor cracked.

Stone shattered beneath her, falling like broken plates. Marron screamed as she plunged, dust and darkness swallowing her whole.

"MOKKO!"

"Marron!" Mokko’s roar echoed above as the ground gave way between them.

Her last glimpse was his outstretched claws, Lucy clinging tight, and the flicker of dungeon light as the abyss closed around her.