"All part of being human, isn't it?" Marron joked. "Just spreading yourself thin until you're overworked, exhausted, and no longer want to be here."

Mokko gently placed his paw on top of her head, and she felt the heavy weight.

"Mokko?"

He shook his head and ruffled her hair. "Don't joke like that. You already fell inside a dungeon once, chef."

She half-heartedly reached out and gently punched him in the chest, feeling her hand sink into his fur.

"Fine. I'm just tired. So many things to think about. Sometimes I just want to take my brain out and scrub it clean."

Marron shook her head and Mokko lifted his paw. "While I can't do that, maybe a change of environment will do me good."

"I was wondering where you were going to cook all this." The bear gestured to the tiny marble countertop and the fridge, both overflowing with ingredients. "Our kitchen is a bit small."

"I'm going to put in a request to move to the Lumeria Guild Apartments. They're fancier than the inn—actual apartments instead of just rooms. But certified chefs get priority placement, and the kitchens are supposedly much better equipped."

"More expensive?"

"Probably. But if I'm serious about staying in Lumeria for a while, I should invest in proper housing." She touched the Guild pin on her apron. "I earned this. I should act like it."

Mokko smiled. "There's the confidence I like to see."

"Don't get too excited. I'm still basically broke and testing a pot that's probably ordinary." But she was smiling too. "Let me go down to the front desk and ask about the apartments. Then I'll start cooking."

The Front Desk

Hestia, the owl innkeeper, looked up when Marron approached. "Miss Louvel. How can I help you?"

"I'd like to inquire about moving to the Guild Apartments," Marron said. "I'm a certified chef now, and I understand there's priority housing available?"

Hestia's amber eyes brightened. "Indeed there is. Congratulations again on your certification—I heard the results were announced at the ceremony."

"Thank you. What's the process for applying?"

"Simple enough. I can submit the request for you today. The Guild Apartments have vacancies—they always keep a few units available for newly certified chefs. You'd be looking at... let me see..." She pulled out a ledger and flipped through it. "Studio apartments start at 200 gold per month, one-bedrooms at 350. Both include a full kitchen, access to the building's practice facilities, and proximity to the Guild itself."

Marron did quick math. 200 gold per month was roughly 50 gold per week—the same as she was paying at the inn, but with better amenities.

"The studio would work," she said. "How soon could I move in?"

"If I submit the paperwork today, you could move in as early as next week. They'll want to verify your certification, check references, standard procedure. But for Guild members, it's quite streamlined."

"Please submit it, then. Thank you."

"Of course. And Miss Louvel?" Hestia leaned forward slightly. "The apartments are lovely. I think you'll be very happy there. It's where you belong now—with your peers, in the Guild community."

Marron felt a strange mix of pride and anxiety. Moving to the Guild Apartments felt official. Permanent. Like she was really committing to staying in Lumeria, to being part of this world instead of just passing through.

Good, she thought. It's time I stopped running.

Back in the Kitchen - Day 1: Stock

Marron stood in the small inn kitchen, two whole chickens waiting on her prep surface, the copper pot gleaming beside them.

"All right," she said to the pot. "Let's see what you've got."

She broke down the chickens with her Whisperwind knives—the work was quick and efficient, the blades singing through joints and bones. The chicken pieces went into the pot along with roughly chopped vegetables, herbs, and cold water.

She set it on the stove and turned the heat to medium.

And watched.

The water warmed gradually. Steam began to rise. Small bubbles formed at the bottom of the pot.

Marron adjusted the heat down, looking for that perfect bare simmer—just a few bubbles breaking the surface every few seconds.

The stock cooperated. It simmered gently, not boiling over, not getting cloudy.

But was that the pot? Or just good technique?

She watched it for two hours, skimming occasionally, adjusting the heat only once.

The stock turned out beautifully—clear, golden, richly flavored.

"Day one," Marron said, tasting it. "Excellent stock. But I can make excellent stock in any pot."

She strained it, stored it in jars, and made notes in her notebook:

Day 1 - Chicken Stock: No boil-over. Good heat control. But unclear if pot is responsible or if I'm just being more careful than usual.

Four more days to go.

Day 2: French Onion Soup

The onions went into the pot with butter. Low heat. Patience.

Marron stirred every ten minutes, watching them transform from white to gold to deep amber.

The pot handled it well—even heat, no scorching, the onions caramelizing perfectly.

But again—was this magic, or just the natural properties of good copper?

Day 2 - French Onion Soup: Perfect caramelization. No burning. But copper is known for even heat distribution. Still can't tell if this is special.

Day 3: Braised Short Ribs

The short ribs seared in the pot, developing a deep brown crust. Then she added wine, stock, aromatics, covered it, and let it braise for three hours.

The meat came out tender, falling off the bone, the sauce rich and velvety.

Perfect.

But was it the pot, or just good braising technique?

Day 3 - Braised Short Ribs: Excellent results. Even heat during braise. No hot spots. But I've made good braises before without this pot.

Marron was starting to feel frustrated.

Day 4: Risotto & Candy-Making Class

Thursday morning, she made risotto.

The dish required constant attention—adding stock gradually, stirring frequently, maintaining just the right temperature so the rice released its starch without overcooking.

The pot performed well. The risotto came out creamy and perfect.

Marron hadn't made good risotto before--just edible, when she was back on Earth and had a smaller countertop. And Kai often helped out with all the stirring, talking with her so she wouldn't wander off and forget.

Day 4 - Risotto: Good results. Required normal amount of attention and stirring. Pot didn't make it easier or harder. I miss Kai.

She packaged some of the risotto for lunch, cleaned up quickly, and headed to the Guild for Maestra Vivienne's candy-making class.

She carried her sweet ingredients in a basket, along with the copper pot.

If it was going to prove itself magical, surely sugar work—temperamental and temperature-sensitive—would be the test.

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