CHAPTER 89: FLUFFY OMELET RICE FOR A MIMIC LIEUTENANT

After escaping the Jilted Lover, Marron made sure the omelet rice was still beneath the silver domed lid. She ducked inside the diner and quickly found a takeout box that didn’t smell like mildew. Someone had the foresight to store it folded flat in a transparent bag.

She thought of buying a lacquered box from her System, but the Lieutenant wasn’t that special.

Marron had just placed the lid on top of the omelet rice’s takeout box when she heard a delicate tapping sound from the large stone doors.

"Come in."

It was the guard mimic--with a serious look on his face. "Do you have the Lieutenant’s meal?"

"Right here," she said happily. "I didn’t know what time he’d order one, so I just cooked--"

The guard mimic clicked its tongue. "He expects you to cook for him after you serve your customers."

"Ah." Marron felt sheepish. "w-well, I was being haunted by the Jilted Lover, so I wasn’t able to--"

"Mm." The guard mimic opened its eyes, and Marron saw milky blue eyes staring back at her. "Luckily, he is often caught up in his work, so he hasn’t noticed. But if you want to keep your protection..."

"I got it." Marron said quietly. "It won’t happen again."

The guard mimic made a noise that Marron interpreted as ’I don’t believe you, but I’m not paid enough to care.’

+

She had a feeling the Lieutenant’s quarters were going to be big, but it was more than just a stone box. His private quarters was located in an underground bunker. Marron could just imagine the dwarves that once occupied it--stockpiling food and magical items for an emergency that required them to dig further beneath the earth.

It was located inside the dwarves’ old infirmary, behind the receptionist’s desk. The building had long been abandoned, and the cabinets and shelves picked clean of anything useful. To anyone else, it would have been a disappointment.

The mimic guard who escorted Marron from the third-floor diner had picked her up again, and wordlessly tapped his weapon--a sword today--against the receptionist’s desk.

"What’s going to h--"

The desk slid to the left, revealing a trap door. Then they entered the underground bunker.

It was well-lit, but not with regular candles. Marron saw a small shimmering thing flying inside iron lamps, and gasped. The beautiful little halos of light were creatures. If she had to guess, either fairies or pixies.

I wonder how many are hanging from this ceiling right now...?

It was like stepping into an underground laboratory combined with a trophy room. The Lieutenant had decorated the space with stolen armor, banners, and even cloaks. She even saw a mannequin wearing full dwarven armor.

Every single one, a drop from a battle.

The air was thick with iron and oil.

Two more guard mimics flanked the doorway, faces blank, their bodies twitching in faint, involuntary mimicry spasms. Their eyes locked on the plate in Marron’s hands.

The fragrance of butter and silk-smooth eggs trailed into the room like a provocation. They stiffened, unsure whether to let her pass or cut her down where she stood.

"The Lieutenant is expecting me," Marron said, her voice steady despite the weight of their stares.

The bone shard in her pocket pulsed, bright enough that both guards flinched back. One muttered, "Let her in."

Marron stepped through.

The Lieutenant sat behind a heavy stone table, posture ramrod-straight, blue eyes sharp as razors. His scar tugged faintly when he spoke.

"You’ve brought something."

Marron set the plate down carefully. "Omelet rice."

The mimics stationed along the walls leaned forward despite themselves. They didn’t have the words for the scent rising from the dish, but their stolen faces betrayed them—mouths watering, nostrils flaring.

The Lieutenant studied the plate like it might sprout fangs. His spoon hovered above the omelet without touching.

"Eat first."

Marron had expected that. She carved a spoonful from the trembling eggs, lifting both rice and golden curd. The steam kissed her face, warm, fragrant. She ate slowly, deliberately, letting every motion broadcast calm.

The Lieutenant’s scar twitched again. He dipped his own spoon at last.

The first bite disappeared into his mouth.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then his eyes widened. His scar—always drawn tight with suspicion—softened. His jaw worked slowly, deliberately, as though his mind was at war with his senses.

The omelet melted against his tongue, buttery silk giving way to rice that shimmered with garlic, herbs, and tang of pickled radish. He had never tasted anything like it. Not here. Not anywhere.

The whispers began.

"It smells... alive."

"Too much color. Too much softness."

"No—look. He’s eating."

The Lieutenant took a second bite. And a third. Each one faster than the last. His spoon clicked against the porcelain as he scraped the bottom, chasing every grain.

The room was so quiet Marron could hear her own pulse pounding in her ears.

He finished, then sat back, spoon still in hand. For the first time, his gaze softened.

"This," he said slowly, "is food worth fighting for."

The shadows in the far corner stirred.

Marron’s stomach dropped. She knew that movement.

The Jilted Lover peeled herself from the darkness like a tear in reality, banshee-form fully unveiled. Her veil was shredded lace, her face half-beautiful, half-corpse. Her scream split the silence.

"That was supposed to be mine!"

Mimic soldiers recoiled, some drawing stolen blades, others frozen in terror. The walls themselves seemed to ripple under the force of her rage.

The Lieutenant rose to his feet, eyes snapping between Marron, the dish, and the shrieking ghost.

Marron gripped the bone shard so tightly it seared her palm.

Ding!

[Quest Updated: Revenge Served Cold]

Objective: Witness confrontation between the Jilted Lover and the Lieutenant.

Status: In Progress.

The Lieutenant’s voice cut through the chaos, calm but cold.

"Explain. Now."

Marron’s throat tightened. Every instinct screamed at her to choose her words carefully. Because for the first time, the banshee wasn’t just her problem.

She had dragged the Jilted Lover into the open.

And the Lieutenant was watching both of them.