My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!-Chapter 215: The Precision Blade is Built Different

After the day she had, Marron was exhausted. She nudged Studio 3-C’s door closed with her heel, letting the sound of the door settling into its latch grounding her.

Evening light filtered through the small, square window—orange, thinning, almost syrupy—and for a moment, the tiny apartment felt gentler than the weight she carried.

Marron set her belongings on the couch, only taking the Precision Blade with her to the kitchen table.

She laid it down carefully, like it was a sleeping cat she didn’t want to disturb.

It was more subdued than the Generous Ladle or the Copper Pot. But when she unwrapped it from its protetive cloth, her pulse quickened. It was like the blade was encouraging her to chop or cut something--testing its weight in her hand, maybe.

Usually it took Marron some effort to cut ingredients cleanly. But the knife’s presence reassured her that it didn’t have to be that way.

It’s like precision isn’t just a lesson for this thing. It’s expected.

Petra’s voice from hours ago lingered in her memory: "It sharpens what’s already inside you. Act carelessly, and it will correct you. Act with intention, and it will refine you."

Marron didn’t know whether to be grateful or terrified.

She exhaled and crossed to the low table where her ledger pages were scattered in a messy fan—rent calculations, ingredient tallies, monthly operating costs, field notes from the cart, and the half-done diagrams Jenny had sketched for the business franchise idea.

Jenny would arrive at 8 bells, leaving Marron with twenty minutes of nothing.

"Mokko, Lucy!" She called for her friends, and Mokko was in the kitchen with Lucy in her jar.

+

"Beautifully made," Mokko said quietly as he looked at the Precision Blade. "but a little...intense, isn’t it?"

Marron nodded. "That’s what I’m afraid of," she said softly, as if it could hear her. "It wanted me to try cutting something up. Just to test its strength."

"What’s wrong with that?" Lucy asked, bobbing up and down in her water jar.

"Well...nothing...if it sticks to ingredients. I...I don’t think it’s going to encourage me to do anything bad, but..."

Mokko gently put a heavy paw on her head. "I know. It’s different because it’s like a weapon, right?"

Marron nodded.

"Not just that," she said softly. "Ever since it arrived with me, it’s like the tools feel different. Like they have their own expectations of me."

Before, it was only other people’s expectations--she understood that came with more attention and visibility. With each artifact she recovered, it felt like Edmund Erwell’s shadow loomed ever longer.

Maybe he’s right, maybe some tools are better ke--wait.

Marron blinked. Why am I thinking this way? I was the one who said Legendary Tools should be used.

Each one improved a different aspect of her skills.

Marron’s eyes flicked to her wall rack where the three older tools rested.

Destiny or curse, she wasn’t sure anymore.

Her business ledger, on the other hand, was brutally clear.

"Do you mind if I ask you to stay while I use it?" Marron asked Mokko. "Just in case?"

The big bear chuckled and gave her a thumbs-up. "Okay. Anything to keep your head clear."

+

Marron let out a shaky laugh. "Good. Because the last thing I need is for a knife to teach me a lesson by taking one of my fingers."

"It won’t," Mokko assured, though his ears twitched in a way that implied he wasn’t entirely certain. "But if it tries, I’ll growl at it."

Lucy rattled her jar. "I’ll splash it!"

"Please don’t splash a Legendary Tool," Marron said gently. "I don’t know what that would do."

Lucy floated back down. "Oh. Right. Might dissolve me."

Marron felt warmth at the back of her throat. Even tired and overwhelmed, she wasn’t alone. These two had been with her long enough to sense her moods before she voiced them.

She moved her business ledger aside--she could deal with that later. Instead, she set a cutting board down. Her hands trembled—barely noticeable, but enough that Mokko stayed close behind her, arms casually crossed, pretending not to monitor her every breath.

She pulled a single rootknot from her pantry and set it on the board.

A simple test.Nothing dramatic.Nothing dangerous.

Just cutting a vegetable.

She picked up the Precision Blade.

The metal was cool, unnervingly smooth—like it had been carved from a single piece of moonlight rather than forged. It fit her hand perfectly, as if choosing her grip before she’d even adjusted it. Her pulse matched its rhythm. Or maybe it was the other way around.

"Deep breath," Mokko murmured.

She took one.

The moment the blade descended—barely any pressure, barely any intention—the rootknot parted like silk. Two perfect halves. No resistance, no crunch, not even enough force to hear the cut.

"...Huh," Lucy whispered.

Marron stared at the pieces. "I didn’t even push."

+

She tried a second slice, and it felt like the Blade was teaching her without words. Like it was a persistent and gentle thought at the back of her skull.

No, Marron. Fix your wrist’s angle. Hold the ingredient tight, but give enough space between the blade and your fingers.

See? It’s cleaner and easier.

The rootknot was neatly sliced without her even realizing. It was like magic, and both thrilled an terrified her.

The Legendary Tool didn’t care about her thoughts, because it wasn’t really sentient. Not like her System, which updated itself (and her) whenever it felt like it.

"It’s like the knife is just echoing memories," Marron said aloud. "The original chef must have been especially thorough."

Admittedly, it made her feel more at ease--because the knife wasn’t going to tell her to stab or hurt anybody.

If the knife is just calling my name and concerned about my movements, maybe...there’s nothing to fear.

Mokko leaned closer. "I can see why Petra gave you that little speech."

"Yeah," Marron whispered. "This thing doesn’t want me to be careful. It wants me to be right."

"And I suppose," Mokko said, "that’s its nature."

Marron lowered the Blade, staring at the reflection on its surface. "I get that tools teach lessons. ’Care,’ ’Patience,’ ’Generosity’—those made sense. They guided how I cooked. But this..."

"Precision?" Mokko asked.

Marron nodded. "It feels like it’s guiding... me. Not my cooking."

Lucy bumped the glass wall of her jar anxiously. "That’s not so bad, is it?"

Marron swallowed. "Only if I start mistaking its instincts for mine."

Silence settled.

Then Mokko nudged her shoulder. "You won’t. You ask before acting. You check yourself. You worry. People who rush headfirst don’t worry this much."

Marron would’ve smiled if she weren’t so tense. "Thanks."

"But," Mokko added, "you did say it felt like the other tools have expectations now too?"

She nodded slowly. "Like... before I only felt supported by them. But with this blade added, it’s as if the set became aware of itself. Like they’re all paying attention."

"That’s normal," Lucy said brightly. "Legendary stuff always wakes up when there’s more of it."

Marron’s stomach dropped. "How do you know that?"

"I read it," Lucy said. "Okay, I skimmed it. Actually, I overheard two librarians arguing. But still!"

Marron covered her face with her hands. "Great. Perfect. The tools are forming some kind of... group consciousness."

"Probably not that literal," Mokko said, though his expression suggested he wasn’t ruling it out.

Marron put the Blade down gently—gently enough that it felt like a bow, like she was acknowledging a living thing.

She didn’t need more fear tonight.

She needed to remember why she was doing all this: to keep New Brookvale safe, to honor the Keeper’s wishes, to make a life here. A better one.

And—practically speaking—to talk to Jenny about franchising, so she could afford to keep doing all this without falling behind on rent or food or Guild classes every time a Legendary Tool whispered her name.

A clock bell chimed outside—one soft, distant note.Five minutes until eight bells.

Marron wiped her hands on a towel, turning to Mokko and Lucy.

"...Promise me something," she said quietly. "If I start acting strange, or if you think the Blade is pushing me too hard—"

"We’ll tell you immediately," Mokko said.

"I’ll scream it!" Lucy added.

Marron felt her chest loosen for the first time since she left Petra’s shop. "Thank you."

She cleaned the board, straightened her ledger papers, lit the small lamp beside the table. The apartment warmed in its dim glow.

Jenny would be here any moment.

Tools whispering. Future looming. Rent waiting. Danger circling.And Marron, caught somewhere between wanting to learn this Blade’s secret and wanting to hide it in a drawer forever.

But for tonight, there was only one task she could face:

Talk to Jenny, and build the franchise properly. The goal was to make a foundation strong enough so she could leave Lumeria without feeling like she had to still fend for herself when she returned.

Another bell rang.

Marron took a steady breath.

"Okay," she whispered. "Let’s meet this head-on."

A knock sounded at the door—exactly at eight bells.

Jenny had arrived.