CHAPTER 81: ON THE KNIFE’S EDGE

Marron’s fingers tightened around the ladle. She had planned for stealth, for sleight of hand. Not for an inspection under the cold eyes of command.

Still, every mimic in the kitchen was watching her now. Expectant. Hungry. Trusting.

And one wrong move meant they’d realize their new chef was nothing but a saboteur.

Ding!

[Hidden Quest Update: The Lieutenant’s Test]

Pass their inspection to maintain cover.

Failure will result in immediate suspicion.

Marron smiled thinly and forced her trembling hands to steady. "Then I’ll make something worth waiting for."

+

The moment stretched longer than Marron wanted.

She carried the plate to the Lieutenant with both hands, setting it before him with a bow that she hoped conveyed both respect and control.

But the man didn’t reach for it.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair, arms folding across his chest with a predator’s patience. His voice carried the iron weight of command.

"Feed it to me."

The words rolled through the kitchen like a blade sliding from its sheath.

"What?"

At once, the chatter stilled. Every mimic was frozen in place, their borrowed faces flickering with static. They were waiting for her reaction. Even the stove and oven’s noise lowered to a hush, the hiss of steam dying against the stone walls.

Marron’s pulse thundered in her ears.

"You heard me, Chef. Feed it to me."

+

Paranoid doesn’t even begin to describe this guy. Or he’s into some weird stuff, and I don’t think I’m ready for that thought.

If Marron spoonfed him a bite, he’d taste her sabotage immediately. She did use a deadly concentration of salt for mimics. Her cover would be broken and she’d have to brawl with all of the mimics inside the diner.

There were fewer mimics than yesterday, but visually? Marron counted around 15 mimics, now actively staring at her.

Refusal meant instant suspicion--or worse, exposure.

Think, Marron.

+

She recalled how her mother used a "doing my best to be polite" smile, especially when people decided to review food served at the Louvel Family Diner.

"Marron, if anyone questions your abilities, just improve your skills. Let your food do the talking." Her mother had furiously chopped, sliced, and sauteed chicken fried steak until it was as delicious as she could make it.

"If they still have something to nitpick, at least you know you tried your best."

So Marron smiled and squinted her eyes, to mimic sincerity. "If you want me to feed you, Lieutenant," she said lightly, "then I’ll show you first that I’m not afraid of my own cooking."

Her voice rang steady, though her stomach coiled tight.

She scooped a spoonful of rice and saw how each grain gleamed under the dim candlelight. To her, the puff of fragrant steam was inviting. Marron raised it to her lips, praying her hand held steadier than her heartbeat.

And she ate.

On the surface, she chewed with serene confidence, savoring the garlic and ginger as if she’d been tasting it all along.

Inside, her mind screamed.

System—swap this rice! Pull from my safe stash. Now.

Ding!

[Request confirmed: Substituting with Safe Rice Ball (white cloth).][Cost: 25 Gold.][Gold: 975.]

Marron kept on chewing, and her tongue, blessedly, didn’t register any overly salty food. Instead, she was eating a delicious bite of fluffy white rice with some fried chicken. To others, it looked like she was happily munching on the garlic rice.

Relief flooded her body, and her shoulders relaxed. The mimics leaned forward, just like the Lieutenant, their eyes twitching with hunger. If their higher-up sensed any doubt, they would strike.

Marron swallowed, exhaled, and let her gaze meet the Lieutenant’s cold blue eyes.

"See?" she said calmly. "Balanced and perfectly delicious. Your turn."

She extended the spoon toward him, steady as if nothing in her body screamed.

The Lieutenant didn’t blink. He raised a hand, calloused and sure, and closed it over hers. Slowly, deliberately, he guided the spoon closer to his lips. His grip was firm, not crushing, but it carried the kind of authority that brooked no resistance.

The entire kitchen was silent.

Marron could hear the faint hiss of oil cooling in a pan. She could hear the scrape of one mimic shifting uncomfortably on a bench. Her own breathing, shallow and tight, seemed deafening.

The spoon stopped inches from the Lieutenant’s mouth.

She saw herself reflected in his cold eyes: a chef, a liar, a survivor standing on a knife’s edge.

If he took the bite, he’d taste exactly what she tasted—safe, balanced, convincing.

But if the System hiccupped, if even a grain of the salted rice slipped through the swap... her disguise would unravel.

The Lieutenant’s mouth opened.

Marron held her breath.

And time seemed to stop.

+

His grip tightened on her hand. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who was really in charge. Then, with slow deliberation, he lowered the spoon back into the bowl.

The mimics watching let out a collective exhale, as though they’d been holding their breath along with her. Their faces flickered in confusion, because the Lieutenant denied them this moment.

Marron’s pulse thundered. Her lips pressed together in a smile she hoped masked her rising dread. "What’s wrong?"

The Lieutenant finally spoke, voice even and razor-sharp.

"No offense, Chef, but old habits die hard. I won’t eat it if I don’t see how it’s made."

It was a metaphorical slap to her face, but she understood why. There had been a death in the kitchen, and she had just replaced the chef. After that, she’d made tastier food for the mimics.

Gasps rippled through the kitchen. One mimic muttered, "But new chef—she cook fine!" Another hissed, "Lieutenant... always suspicious..."

A third mimic said dreamily, "That’s how he got his position! Always questioning everything...and keeping Captain safe from harm."

She should have expected he wasn’t going to give up his authority so easily. But two could play that game, and at this point, Marron had nothing else to lose. She had no companions, no cart, and the Mimicry skill gnawed at her insides with every use.

Still, she made her face glitch with determination.

It’s a good thing I’m more stubborn than he realizes.

I’m passing that test, and I am stealing his face.