CHAPTER 83: BREAKING THE LIEUTENANT’S GUARD

He copied how she cut into the omelet, putting it on top of the fluffy white rice. Then the spoon entered his mouth.

Every mimic in the kitchen craned closer, as though the verdict of their whole faction rested in this single chew.

The Lieutenant’s jaw worked slowly. His scar pulled faintly as he tasted. Then his throat shifted in a deliberate swallow. For a long time, he didn’t move or speak.

Marron was worried he’d just died with his eyes open.

But then, he dipped the spoon back onto the plate.

A second bite vanished. Then a third.

Marron’s Mimicry skill made her face twitch and flinch as she tried her best not to project her nervousness. Her lips were fixed in a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and her whole body felt like it was pulled taut, like a guitar string wound much too tight.

Don’t look too relieved. Forget about sighing or breathing deep.

He wasn’t a normal customer, after all. The Lieutenant was a mimic with paranoia sharpened into a blade. Marron had no doubt he could even hear her sweat as it fell to the floor.

She clasped her hands tight, as though she knew she’d pass this trial with flying colors.

+

The meal grew smaller and smaller, until gradually, his spoon hit the plate with a loud clink. That was the only time the Lieutenant broke eye contact with his meal. His eyes raised to meet hers, and for the first time, she saw embarassment color his cheeks.

He moved to the rice afterward, until only the faintest streaks of oil remained. At last, he set the spoon down and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

The kitchen exhaled as one, a rush of whispers breaking the heavy silence.

"She...did she pass?"

"I’ve never seen the Lieutenant so focused on something other than his surroundings before..."

"No poison. No trick. He lives."

The Lieutenant raised a single scarred hand, and the room snapped quiet. His cold blue eyes locked onto Marron’s, unreadable as winter sky.

Then he spoke.

"Seconds."

Gasps rippled through the mimics like sparks leaping across dry grass.

When she didn’t move right away, he mumbled, "please."

Marron almost laughed in disbelief. Seconds? From him? She had braced for suspicion, accusations, another test.

But asking for more... that was something she’d never dared hope for.

She bowed her head slightly, hiding the quick smile that tugged at her lips. "Of course."

Her hands moved with the steady rhythm of a seasoned chef, but inside she trembled. This wasn’t just about keeping up her disguise anymore. The Lieutenant’s request meant her dish had broken through his paranoia.

That mattered.

It mattered so much she found herself humming under her breath as she cracked more eggs into the pan. The oil hissed as she poured the fluffy golden eggs, and the mimics were in awe as the sprinkled parsley, cut thin like organic glitter.

Her work was clean and precise, handling the second plate with as much love as the first.

"Here you go. Enjoy."

She set the plate before him again and the aroma curled seductively, promising deliciousness with every bite. The Lieutenant ate this next meal faster than the first. As he did so, she saw his scarred face soften just a tiny bit.

It was the closest thing to contentment, and Marron took that as a win.

When he scraped the second plate clean, the kitchen vibrated with murmurs:

"Lieutenant...full?"

"First time...asked for seconds..."

"She’s amazing."

Then—

Ding!

[Hidden Quest Complete: Survive the Lieutenant’s Test]

Rewards:

500 XP

200 Gold

[New Status Effect: Lowered Paranoia – Lieutenant’s suspicion of you reduced. Chance of trust-based dialogue increased.]

[XP Total: 550]

[Gold Total: 1,200]

Marron nearly dropped the whisk in her hand.

That’s the most XP I’ve earned in one go.

She had enough gold to fund more ingredients or stock her cart once she recovered it, too.

Reducing the Lieutenant’s suspicion flooded her body with serotonin the likes of which she had never experienced before.

The Lieutenant wiped his mouth with a napkin, every motion deliberate.

Then he rose to his full height, towering in his borrowed soldier’s form.

"Thank you for the meal."

His voice cut through the gossiping mimics. "But stay awhile after the diner closes."

Her heart jumped. Stay?

"I will speak with you later," he continued, gaze sharp but no longer hostile. "For now... continue cooking."

Then he turned and strode from the kitchen, boots clicking with military precision, leaving a roomful of stunned mimics in his wake.

The silence he left behind cracked open into chaos.

"She passed!"

"Lieutenant almost ate his plate!"

"Seconds! He asked for seconds!"

Their stolen faces shifted wildly, caught between glee and disbelief.

Marron leaned against the counter, letting out a slow, measured breath. Her hands shook slightly, though she hid them beneath the folds of her apron.

She’d made it.

Hours later, after the crowd had dispersed and the kitchen had quieted, Marron sat alone at a table, her fingers wrapped around a chipped mug of lukewarm tea.

Her System window still floated faintly at the corner of her vision. She could still see the numbers.

[XP: 550]

[Gold: 1,200]

For the first time, the future didn’t look like a bear trap eager to snap her leg in two.

The Lieutenant would be back, and be less suspicious of her.

Maybe he just had more questions than accusations.

Or maybe he’s going to lead me closer to the fourth floor.

I really want to see my cart.

And breathe fresh air.

She looked at the dwarven runes running through the floorboards, and they definitely seemed brighter now. Like the dungeon itself was enjoying some of the joy she’d created.

Or maybe it was feeding off of her happiness.

She wasn’t sure which thought was more terrifying.

Marron closed her Culinary System window with a flick and sank on an empty chair.

"Seconds," she whispered, still half in disbelief. "Guess I really am the chef now."

Her stomach growled faintly in response, and despite herself, she laughed.

"But I still have to eat."

She looked for some leftover tuna omelet and rice, fully focused on feeding herself for a change.

And because of that, Marron failed to notice the shadow that lingered in the furthest corner of the room.

There was a tiny female mimic who hadn’t joined the cheering.

Instead, her stolen face flickered faintly, like it couldn’t choose between its masks. But in all of them, her eyes were blazing with rage.

If looks could flay, Marron would’ve had her skin peeled, ready to dry.

It continued to say nothing and just stared daggers into Marron’s back. Her skin prickled suddenly, and she looked around--

--but there was no one in the room with her.

Still...

Marron had the feeling that not everyone’s guard had been lowered.