Marron had never stayed this long past closing hours before. Soon, the only thing inside the dim diner was herself, the kitchen equipment, and the gentle pulse of the dwarven runes on the floor. If she were being honest--this wasn't so bad.

She'd finished cleaning the last of the kitchen tools, and the slightly brighter room made it easier to see her progress.

The knives actually look shiny now. The last chef didn't even maintain them properly.

"For all their talent in copying...I wish they also copied how to maintain important tools."

She wiped down the counter for the third time, her mind still buzzing with disbelief.

The Lieutenant went from cold and guarded to...slightly less cold and impressed. And asked for seconds. What world am I living in right now?

But the reprieve didn't last long. Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor again, measured and steady as a drumbeat. The door creaked open, and a guard mimic appeared. Its face flickered, but its face remained blank, like it didn't want to choose.

"I was sent to come get you."

Her stomach tightened.

Of course.

She looked at the guard mimic and saw he carried not a polearm, but a sleek and sharp greatsword. Incredibly powerful, as long as it hit the target. "Are you ready to go?"

Marron breathed in deep and wished she could take a bath. Half of her hair was already sticking to the corner of her jaw. This situation reminded her of a last-minute meeting with a higher-up, and she hated it.

She turned and took one last look at the diner, completely empty except for the two of them. Then she straightened her apron and tucked her trembling hands away.

"Yes. Let's go."

+

She'd stayed in the kitchen for so long, Marron was actually shocked when the stone walls were actually visible without a torch.

"It looks like the Captain is progressing well," she said quietly. The mimic guard grunted in reply.

"Because he finally has a few moments to breathe. No adventurers wandering around."

"They found something else to poke at?" Marron asked, and felt the left side of her face melt for a fraction of a second. One of the weirder glitches of her Mimicry skill, for sure.

"Yes. All busy in Brookvale. Trying to destroy nest."

Oh.

Somehow she thought people would storm the dungeon to save her.

Of course. They have to destroy the mimic town first, or else they might storm Whetvale.

After her success with the Lieutenant's mission, she felt a little humbled.

"...Oh. I hope everyone escape."

The mimic guard shook his head, and Marron heard the armor shift, as if the monster inside shrugged its shoulders.

"Sometimes not part of escape. If they were, they here. Everyone has role to play."

"...just seems cruel," Marron whispered, the most honest she'd ever been today.

Suddenly, the mimic guard was right next to her. Its blank face was as white as paper, but she could imagine the emotion on it.

"Must be young chef. Full of dreams. But sometimes that how is."

She nodded, and immediately answered, "Y-yes. One day I learn."

"You will. Just wait."

After that, the guard and the chef walked in silence. But instead of it walking in front of her, it walked beside her.

Ding!

[Your honesty has earned you +1 respect point from this mimic guard.]

[XP: 560]

[Gold: 1,250]

+

It was fitting that the Lieutenant's quarters was as Spartan as he. When she finally descended to the fourth floor, Marron saw even less mimics. The monsters that were there glitched much less--if she hadn't known, she would have thought they were actually human.

His office had no decorations or clutter. Instead, there were handdrawn maps of the dungeon and a few jagged mimic scratches into the walls. Whenever the dwarven runes passed them, they let out a faint hissing sound.

It was very much a soldier's nest.

The Lieutenant stood by the desk, arms folded, his scarred cheek catching the lamplight. His piercing blue eyes swept over her like a scalpel.

"Chef Marron," he said, the words hard as steel.

"Lieutenant," she replied, matching his tone.

Silence stretched. Marron felt the urge to fidget, but she forced herself still.

Finally, he broke it. "I've had chefs attempt to curry my favor before. They season with flattery, not salt. They try tricks, poisons, illusions. Every single one dissolved. You…"

He paused, as if searching for the right word. "…you cooked."

Her chest rose and fell in careful rhythm. "Food is simple. You either make it with balance, or you don't."

His lip twitched faintly — not quite a smile, but close enough to be unnerving. "And that balance earned you something rare from me."

He moved closer, boots striking the stone floor with sharp precision. "Protection."

Marron's pulse spiked.

"You will prepare my meals exclusively," he continued. "In return, no mimic under my command will lay claw or eye against you. Carry this..."

He drew a polished shard of bone from his desk, etched with jagged runes. "...and the guards will obey."

The token pulsed faintly in his hand, alive with mimic energy. When she accepted it, it felt almost warm against her palm.

"Refuse," he said flatly, "and you'll learn why paranoia keeps me alive."

Marron bowed her head slightly, hiding her racing thoughts. An opportunity wrapped in chains. His protection meant freedom of movement, maybe even a path toward her cart. But being this close to his gaze… she'd have to dance carefully.

"Then I'll make sure," she said, "that your food never disappoints."

"Good." His eyes lingered on her a moment longer, searching, weighing. Then he turned back toward his desk, dismissing her with a flick of his hand. "Go. Tomorrow, you will prove today wasn't a fluke."

Marron left the room, the shard heavy in her apron pocket. Each step felt both lighter and heavier. She'd secured protection, yes. But she'd also tied herself to one of the most dangerous mimics she'd ever seen.

Back in the deserted corridor, the shadows stirred again. A figure lingered at the far end, half-hidden in the gloom. Its face shifted restlessly between stolen visages before finally settling on a noblewoman's cruel smile.

The mimic's eyes narrowed, burning with jealousy.

"The position he gave her…" it whispered, voice dripping venom, "…was supposed to be mine."

Its claws scraped against the wall with a soft, grating sound.

When the dwarven runes passed over it, there was a soft hiss, the way a brand sounds when coming into contact with flesh.

And then it vanished into the dark.

+

Ding!

[Quest Complete: Lieutenant's Favor Obtained]Reward: Faction Standing Increased – Mimic Lieutenant will actively shield you from suspicion.

[Secret Quest Unlocked: Appease a Jealous Mimic]Objective: Identify and calm the mimic who resents your new role.Reward: Complete Dungeon Map (with location of Comfort & Crunch revealed)