CHAPTER 79: THE MIMIC’S CHEF

Ding!

[Hidden Quest Activated: Chef of the Hollow Diner]

You have assumed the role of head cook within the mimic population.

Maintain their trust while pursuing your true goal.

Rewards: XP, deeper infiltration, ????

Failure will result in your cart’s destruction.

She nearly reacted, but tried to keep her face neutral. If she failed this hidden quest, then she would have no food cart, and would probably get absorbed, when the mimics eventually figured out the truth.

Inwardly, her chest swelled with both fear and triumph. The plan had worked: she’d turned a room of monsters into her eager customers.

But if she faltered even once—if they realized she wasn’t one of them—she’d end up dissolved like the last Marron.

She handed out the last bowl and lifted her head.

"Eat up," she commanded. "Then tomorrow, we make something new."

The mimics bent their heads over their bowls, slurping greedily, their borrowed faces flickering with unfamiliar delight.

And Marron, with her hands steady on the ladle, thought grimly:

One step closer to my cart, and to the Core.

+

As the last bowl was emptied, the mimics’ glitching faces shifted even faster. Their voices overlapped in praise, stolen syllables warbling in unison.

"So...so good!"

"This chef better!"

"Balance! BALANCE!"

Marron felt uncomfortable, even if they were now greedily devouring her doctored congee. Now they had an idea of real food could taste like. Even if they had no idea why it was better, they felt the difference.

As she gazed at her customers, she felt eyes on her.

Marron turned her head and saw the bartender mimic, watching with bright unblinking eyes. Its face twitched in some kind of grin.

"You different. Teach balance."

She straightened her back. "Glad to help. You’ve been eating scraps and shadows. Food is more than just mindless sustenance. It is memory, and it can be strength."

She lifted the ladle again and tapped it twice against the pot for emphasis. The room quieted instantly, every shifting gaze locked on her.

"I am the chef now. If you want better food, you will listen to me."

A hush spread, broken only by the sound of spoons scraping bowls. Then, as if on cue, mimics began to pound the tables, voices layering into a grotesque cheer:

"Chef! Chef! New chef!"

The bartender mimic clapped its clawed hands together, as though officiating. "Then it is settled. Old chef died. New chef rises. We follow your cooking."

Marron forced a smile, though her hands shook around the ladle. She had done it—wrested control of the room from a monster that had worn her own face. But now, every mimic in this chamber expected her to feed them, and guide them.

Maybe even lead them. Would this land me an audience with the Captain?

Ding!

[System Update]

Faction Reputation Unlocked: Mimic Collective

Standing:Favorable

Notes: The Mimics acknowledge you as their acting chef.

Increased trust during interactions.

Access to communal kitchen.

Suspicion rises if dishes are consistently poor, or if Mimicry falters.

Higher scrutiny from leadership (Captain).

Marron rested the ladle in the pot and spread her arms like a conductor dismissing a symphony. "Eat. Rest. Tomorrow, I show you what food should be."

The mimics roared their approval, their faces twitching into grotesque smiles, laughter stolen from strangers echoing off the carved stone walls.

+

When she returned to her room in the Mimic Inn, the energy was completely different. She grabbed some parchment from the drawer and started to sketch out recipes. But the goal wasn’t comfort, but of sabotage.

Since the mimics wanted her to be their chef, she’d decide what they ate next.

Marron sketched quick outlines of dishes she had no intention of actually teaching. Beef stew, tofu steak, and even plain flatbread were some of the notes she didn’t want to share.

The last thing the Adventurer’s Guild needs are well-fed mimics.

And then an idea came to her. She could keep them addicted for more of her food by leaning into the umami flavor--MSG. Now that she knew their weakness was salt, she could keep them weak enough for her to gain XP from.

Hopefully I only need one or two days.

When she looked up from her notes, the inn’s walls seemed one or two shades brighter. Her lamp looked like it carried more power, and she didn’t have to squint to make out the outlines of furniture in the room.

It was like the starving dungeon had been fed.

I thought the walls were black, but they’re actually...a dark blue?

Even the dwarven runes on the floorboards looked one or two shades brighter. She even felt a faint thrum of energy when they pulsed beneath her feet.

Her pulse quickened.

Either the mimics were throwing magic artifacts, or Comfort & Crunch is leaving trace amounts of energy on its way to the core.

Marron knew this dungeon was six floors deep, but in its current state, that might not be true anymore. If the Captain thoroughly inspected her cart, they might have seen the gifts from the beastkin.

The next time I get my cart back, I’ll need to lock it down somehow. I don’t want this happening again.

It was her source of income and nourishment--stuffed with ingredients she loved and linked to her system. If she didn’t act quickly, the dungeon might get stronger even before her cart reached the dungeon’s core.

Marron’s thoughts wandered to the over-seasoned sludge, the mimic’s faces shifting in pleasure, and--most importantly--Mokko and Lucy.

I hope they’re doing okay. I have to get out soon, or hold out until they come to find me.

Her guardian bear might have worked with chefs before, but maybe not with an entire culinary guild, or dealing with mimics.

I’ll help myself while I’m here. It hasn’t been completely terrible.

But even as that thought crossed her mind, she gazed at her reflection in the nearby mirror. Her Mimicry skill shifted her face just enough to pass.

She swallowed hard and focused on her goal.

While it was a disguise, each flicker made her feel like the skill stole a little bit more from her. Kind of like how an ice sculptor chips away at the block until the artwork revealed itself.

Still, the thought of her cart kept her spine straight. If the dungeon wanted to steal her life’s work, she’d make sure it choked on it.

+

I’ll introduce some cave salt flatbread to the menu. Then we’ll see how they fare.