Sleep was, once more, elusive. She envied Mokko and Lucy's ability to fall asleep in record time. Without worrying for her own health or safety, there was…a surprising amount of time to be alone.
And in Marron's opinion, being alone with her thoughts was never a good thing.
She glanced around her bedroom. It was bare, save for the mattress on the floor and the closet containing a simple bathing robe and cotton trousers and shirt. She refused to take off her socks, especially since the floor was made of polished wood.
I'm sure they made this floor beautifully, but I'm still scared of stepping on a nail. I blame my dadgum tiny apartment back on Earth.
Her hair was still damp from the bath, and she felt refreshed but still a little nervous.
What if nobody likes the rice balls? I made do with braised chicken, but…maybe they'd appreciate teriyaki a bit more?
One of her favorite memories was of her mother brushing a sweet, sticky syrup all over the chicken before frying it. And since she wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon…
Marron got up, walked to her food cart, and checked her ingredients. She still had short-grain mana rice, but was annoyingly low on protein.
Hmm…let's see how much money I have left. Maybe I can buy or ask the inn for chicken?
She mentally opened her system and saw the familiar pop-up.
[Hello, host! You currently have 150 gold.]
"Oh! I'm pretty sure I can afford chicken here, right? Does Whisperwind take currency…?"
[No, the Beastkin clans do not take currency. They barter.]
"Fascinating. Okay, can I check the Savoria Delivery Station?"
A pop-up opened with a menu of food items Savoria had in existence, with the appropriate coin value next to its photo. In Whetvale, chickens were called "Cockatrice Meat." in Frostfall, the picture stayed the same, but the name was "Cluckbird."
Whisperwind…had no inventory to speak of. The only words the system displayed were "barter country."
[You also have a perk from Whetvale as a local winner, and receive a 20% discount. Do you want to order?]
"Yes please." she put in an order for 1kg of cockatrice meat.
[That will be 50 gold. Thank you!]
She watched her money pouch shrink as the system swallowed her money, and a wax-wrapped package of sliced cockatrice meat appeared next to her.
"That's handy."
[I've been here since the beginning, but thank you, dear host.]
+
She unwrapped the waxed parcel and ran her fingers over the slices of cockatrice meat. It felt a little too tender, as if the system had decided to marinate it in sympathy.
She smiled to herself and laid it out on the counter.
"Let's see if I remember it right."
She mixed sugar and soy from her portable kit, then added a splash of rice vinegar, some finely chopped garlic, and the last of the Whetvale plum syrup she'd been saving.
The scent hit her almost immediately—sweet, sticky, and sharp. Her mother never measured anything, just went by look and feel, dipping the brush into the sauce and swiping it lovingly across each piece of chicken.
It had felt like a blessing back then.
"How do you know if it's too sweet or something?" A 12 year-old Marron asked as her mother brushed teriyaki sauce across the chicken. The marinade came from a bottle, but the flavors were just as good.
Marron's mother gave her a gentle smile and stroked her hair. "Practice. And adding sugar or soy sauce slowly. This one's premade, so it'll always be good. You don't have to work so hard, Marron. Sometimes shortcuts are okay. You're only human."
Marron did the same now, dragging the brush gently across the meat, watching it glisten.
"I wish I could just buy convenience-store food, but this is okay too." She was deeply missing some fried chicken balls and beer.
Hopefully there'll be a town with a brewery in this weird land.
The skillet was already warm when she dropped in the first few slices. She heard the satisfying sizzle, and the world felt right again. No matter how crazy her life was now, normalcy was only a frying pan away.
Cooking restored my sanity when I suffered at work, and now it's still saving my life.
Steam puffed upward and Marron was surrounded by sweet caramelized sugar. She watched as the pieces curled inward and settled, the oil giving them a glossy sheen.
Lucy stirred from the other room, giving off a soft ploop sound, then went quiet again.
Marron tasted the first piece and nearly dropped her chopsticks.
It wasn't just delicious.
It was right.
"Not as good as mom's, of course," she murmured. "But really close."
Her mother wasn't gone gone. Whenever she missed her, all she had to do was cook her recipes. And for a blessed moment, she reconnected with her mother once more.
I wish you could hear all my adventures right now. You'd be thrilled about the wolves.
"Still got it," she whispered.
Marron put the short-grain mana rice into the pot and let it fluff up into white pearls of perfection. Using a wooden spoon, she stirred the rice to keep it from sticking to the bottom of the pot.
As she waited for the rice and the chicken to cool down, she wiped away beads of sweat with a towel and yawned.
"Nothing like hard work to draw out sleepiness, I guess..."
Marron shook her head and clapped her hands against her cheeks.
Not now Marron! We have to prep for tomorrow's sales!
She packed the chicken into the rice, working in quiet rhythm, wetting her hands with salt water, shaping each triangle with careful fingers. One. Two. Three.
By the fourth, something strange happened.
The air in the room thickened—not hot, not humid. Just… denser, like steam mixed with memory. Marron paused mid-shape.
It smelled like her childhood kitchen. Like the faded sleeve of her mother's cardigan. Like the nights she stayed up late doing homework and her mother wordlessly left food outside her door.
The feeling passed quickly.
But when she finished the sixth rice ball, her eyes were damp.
She sniffed, shook her head, and wrapped the rice balls in soft leaves Mokko had helped her collect that morning.