Day 3: Anger

The sky above Frostfall was flat and gray, and Marron woke with a faint headache blooming just behind her eyes. Joy lingered from the day before like sunlight trapped in amber—but it was too sweet, too bright. Her balance was off.

As she set up her cart that morning, she muttered, "Something savory today. Something sturdy."

Lucy blinked up at her from the corner of the steamer lid, a pale orange. Tentatively cheerful. Mokko was already hauling crates, but even he moved with caution. Yesterday had ended well, but the tension was growing.

The guild evaluator was already in the square, drinking coffee and eating a hot bun.

When her gaze met Marron's, the evaluator remained cold and impassive. It was like looking at an exceptionally grumpy cat. 

"You ever feel like a rat in a cage?" Marron whispered. 

Mokko grunted as he pulled Comfort & Crunch to their registered spot. "She's just here to observe. Don't let her set your menu."

Marron nodded.

She wasn't going to let her. Not today.

When the adventurer arrived, she briefly reconsidered going back to bed.

He was the type of man who became a brawler class because he was built for it. The adventurer slammed his thick fist on the counter with a jangle of his knuckle weapon and ego. He had muscles like stacked bricks, red eyes, and a voice that cut through the morning chill.

"Hey lady, I need something that'll get me fired up! I got a fight with a thunder monk later and I want to WIN."

Marron blinked. "Uh, what kind of fight?"

"Sparring. Mostly." He grinned. "Unless he makes me mad. Then it's not."

Mokko stepped forward, protective tension in his shoulders, but Marron waved him back.

This was the test, wasn't it?

Anger. Controlled. Intentional.

"You want something hot," she said. "Aggressive, but... focused."

"Exactly! You get me, lady. Few people do." He smacked the counter again, rattling the pepper jars.

Marron started with duskbeast meat, marinated in garlic vinegar and fireroot paste. She sliced sun-scorched peppers, blistered them directly over flame, and added charcoal-brewed spice oil until the air made her eyes sting.

Lucy hovered above the pot, pulsing red-orange.

She folded in the broth, thick with bone flavor and crushed ember-mint. Then came the bitter notes—charred citrus peel, black radish, and a trickle of burnt fig molasses.

It simmered like a battlefield.

She ladled it into a wide bowl, garnished it with scorched herbs, and set it before the adventurer.

He took one bite.

Then roared with laughter. "HELL YES! I CAN FEEL THE FIRE!"

For three seconds, Marron exhaled.

That means I succeeded, right? I tried my best to focus on the hot-blooded essence of anger...

Instead of looking proud, Balen looked at his rival with worry. He and Mielle shared a look, and she paused her cart service to go to him. 

"You see that?" 

"Her duskmeat bowl radiating anger? Yeah. That's not a normal chef's doing, Balen."

He shook his head. "Yeah. For that, we'd have to gain at least S-rank. I saw her concentrating this time."

Mielle bit her lip. "I told her to focus...like we do. I didn't think she'd have that kind of flavor magic, Bales."

He patted her back and said quietly, "I fought against her in Whetvale. I never saw that kind of flavor magic either. Come on, we need to make cool-down dishes, stat."

+

The adventurer stood, and Marron felt deathly afraid. His aura rose considerably, and she didn't even need her system to see the effect her dish had. 

He punched the lamppost beside the stall so hard the top cracked off and crashed into the snow.

The crash echoed through the square like a warning bell.

Vendors three stalls down started packing up. Mielle shot her a worried look before quickly covering her pastry display. Even Balen, usually unflappable, stepped back from his grill.

The remaining customers melted away like morning frost, leaving wide spaces around Marron's cart.

Gasps erupted from the market.

A child screamed.

The adventurer blinked, looked at his hand, then laughed again. "Oops. Guess I'm ready for my match."

He tossed her a handful of coins and sauntered off, whistling.

+

Marron swayed with the wave of emotion that passed through her.

Heat flared behind her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands clenched and unclenched, rage crawling under her skin like ants.

Mokko reached for her shoulder.

"Don't," she snapped.

His paw froze.

She saw his expression—not angry. Hurt.

Her stomach twisted.

Why'd I do that? He didn't do anything to me. I'm just so--so--

Wait.

This is from the adventurer!

Marron's fists clenched and her hand wrapped around a stray pot of herbs. 

"Marron, do--"

She pulled so hard she uprooted the coolbasil. 

"I'll fix it later!" she cried to nobody. Lucy shrank away and crawled inside an empty drawer.

Damn it, why'd I absorb that? When will I stop being such a failure? I can't control my magic, and the second I follow Mielle's tip, a customer breaks public property. 

When will I do it right?!

[System Alert: Emotional Backlash Triggered

Absorbed: Aggression Surge (71%)

Internal Status: Short-Tempered, Agitated]

The guild rep stepped closer, scribbling calmly.

"Unstable output," she said to no one. "Backlash noted. Customer unaffected. Observer compromised."

Marron wanted to throw a full soup pot at her.

Instead, she reached for the milk crate and downed a chilled bottle, trying to wash the fire from her blood. It took three bottles before she could calm the surge of energy running through her veins.

By midday, she'd served only two more bowls. Her coin purse felt as empty as the square around her.

[System Alert: Daily Goal Status - 47g / 200g earned

Reputation: Local Standing decreased (-10 points)]

The numbers stared back at her like an accusation. Even if the guild let her keep her license, she'd starve before the week was out.

Mokko was silent as he packed up broken herbs and shaken jars.

Lucy turned a watery gray.

+

They found quiet in the alley behind the inn.

Marron sat on a crate, holding her head.

Mokko stood beside her, arms crossed.

"I didn't mean to snap at you," she mumbled.

"You did anyway," he said.

The words stung, but they were true.

"He got under my skin. The anger—it doesn't go away once the dish leaves."

"Of course it doesn't," Mokko said. "You're cooking emotions, Marron. They linger. You don't get to pretend they don't."

She wiped her eyes. "Then what do I do?"

"Buffer it. Dilute it. Milk, bread, root veg—anything boring or cold enough to calm your nerves."

He passed her a piece of garlic barley toast.

She took a bite.

Warm. Earthy. Calm.

"There's something else," Mokko said quietly. "That jelly barrier thing you tried yesterday? With Lucy and me helping?"

Marron nodded, remembering the translucent wall she'd imagined around herself, how Mokko's steady presence and Lucy's supportive colors had helped her maintain it.

"It didn't hold when the anger hit," she said.

"Because anger's hotter than grief," he said. "Burns through barriers faster. But that doesn't mean it won't work—just means you need a stronger one."

Ding!

[Emotional Jelly Barrier Analysis Complete!]

[Current Status: Completely unstable during high-intensity emotions. Familiar assistance highly recommended.

Mokko and Lucy can reinforce the barrier by 25%.]

[Upgrade Unlocked: Enhanced Barrier Resilience (150 XP)]

"The system says you can help me. And I can upgrade it." Marron whispered, reading the floating text.

"Good," Mokko said quietly. "It'll help you in the long run. We wander, Marron. Who knows what we'll see out in Savoria. You're going to need every barrier you can build."

[New System Unlock: Memory Buffer Garnish

Penalty Added: Emotional Backlash (now active on high-intensity dishes)]

That night, Marron added plain porridge and warm root stew to her menu.

She left the spice jars sealed.

The guild evaluator passed her cart just before sundown and posted a sealed note:

"Further surges will result in containment protocols."

That night, Marron counted her coins twice, hoping the number would change. It didn't.

A soft knock interrupted her worried calculations. Mokko stood in the doorway, holding a steaming mug that smelled of honey and something she couldn't place.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Something my grandmother used to make," he said, settling the mug in her hands. "Warm milk with cardamom and a pinch of dreamroot. It won't fix today, but it might help you sleep."

The milk was perfect—not too sweet, with a gentle warmth that seemed to unknot the tension in her shoulders. For the first time since the lamppost incident, the angry fire in her chest began to cool.

"Mokko, I—"

"Drink first," he said quietly. "Apologies after you've slept."

She nodded, taking another sip. The dreamroot made her eyelids heavy in the best way.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He squeezed her shoulder gently—forgiveness without words—before heading to his own rest.

Lucy turned a pale lilac, but softer now, sensing the shift toward peace.

The guild rep's threat still waited on her counter, but the warm milk had created a buffer between her and the day's disasters. Tomorrow, she would serve something sweet—if anyone would risk approaching her cart.

But tonight, cradled by Mokko's kindness, she finally slept.

And dreamed of recipes that healed instead of harmed.