My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!-Chapter 260: The Betrayal

Marron sat in Marcus’s study, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. Dawn light filtered through the tall windows, painting everything in shades of gray and pale gold. She hadn’t slept. Couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lucy’s terrified retreat, felt the Blade’s joy singing through her veins.

Felt herself smiling.

Aldric sat across from her, his ledger open but blank. He’d been staring at the empty page for an hour, pen poised, unable to write the report that would document what had happened.

"I’m going to tell them," Marron said finally. Her voice was hoarse from disuse. "The Council. Edmund. All of it."

Aldric’s pen stopped moving. "Marron—"

"I have to." She set down the tea cup, her hands steadier than she felt. "If I don’t, if I hide this and something worse happens... I can’t. I won’t be another case Edmund has to document. Another wielder who thought they could handle it until they couldn’t."

"They’ll take the tools."

"I know."

"They’ll take you. Lock you up somewhere. Or—" Aldric’s voice cracked. "Or worse."

"I know that too." Marron looked at her hands. The same hands that had raised the Blade toward Lucy. The same hands that had moved without her permission, guided by joy so pure it had erased her will like chalk in rain. "But what’s the alternative? Wait for the Slicer’s wielder to get closer? Wait for the next time the Blade takes control and hope you’re there to stop me?"

She met his eyes. "Edmund was right, Aldric. He was right about all of it. Tools are dangerous. Partnership is a risk. And I—" Her voice broke. "I’m the eighteenth case. I just proved everything he’s been warning about for forty years."

"You’re not—"

"I smiled." The words came out flat. "I was about to kill Lucy, and I smiled. That’s not partnership. That’s possession."

Aldric closed his ledger slowly. "When will you tell them?"

"Today. This morning. Before the next scheduled session with the Crock." Marron stood, her legs unsteady. "I’ll go to Edmund directly. Frame it as proactive safety monitoring. Request additional oversight, maybe suspension of the sessions until we understand what’s happening with the Slicer."

"He won’t see it that way."

"No. He’ll see it as proof." She walked to the window, looking out over Marcus’s gardens. The roses were blooming despite the early cold, red petals bright against the frost. "But at least if I confess, if I ask for help before someone gets hurt—maybe that counts for something. Maybe that’s the difference between being possessed and being responsible."

Behind her, Aldric was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was thick. "I’ll come with you. Testify that you recognized the danger, that you’re trying to manage it—"

"No. You need to stay here. Document everything for the record. Show that we followed protocol, that we didn’t hide anything." She turned back to him. "And if Edmund decides to... if he decides I’m too dangerous to keep around... I need you to take care of the tools. Find someone who can partner with them properly. Someone who won’t—"

A knock at the door interrupted her.

Marcus entered without waiting for a response. His face was pale, his hands shaking on his cane. He looked like he’d aged a decade overnight.

"Marcus?" Aldric stood quickly. "What’s wrong?"

The old merchant closed the door behind him and leaned against it. For a long moment, he just stood there, breathing hard, unable to meet their eyes.

"I’m sorry," he said finally. "I’m so, so sorry."

Marron’s stomach dropped. "What did you do?"

"Edmund has records." Marcus’s voice was barely above a whisper. "Of my brother’s dealings. Artifacts acquired through... questionable means. Things that could bring charges against the whole family. Ruin us. Destroy everything we’ve built."

"Marcus—" Aldric started, but the old man raised a hand.

"Three months ago, Edmund came to me. Said he’d make those records disappear if I provided ’unfiltered reports’ on Marron’s activities." Marcus finally looked up, his eyes wet. "I thought I could manage both. Give him enough to satisfy him while protecting you. I thought I was being clever."

The study went very quiet.

"What did you tell him?" Marron’s voice was cold.

"Everything." Marcus’s cane clattered to the floor. "The evaluation. The scarlet glints getting stronger. Your comments about the tools being afraid. Every session with the Crock. I sent detailed letters twice a week."

"And yesterday?" Aldric’s voice was sharp. "What did you tell him about yesterday?"

Marcus closed his eyes. "I sent the letter last night. Express courier. Edmund will have received it this morning."

Marron felt the blood drain from her face. "You told him about Lucy."

"I had to. He has other sources now—servants who talk, merchants who owe him favors. If I didn’t report it exactly as it happened, he’d know I was holding back. He’d—" Marcus’s voice broke. "He’d destroy my family."

"So you destroyed mine instead." The words came out flat, emotionless. Marron was surprised by her own calm. Shouldn’t she be angry? Shouldn’t she be screaming?

But all she felt was tired.

"I thought I could protect you both," Marcus whispered. "I thought if I gave him small things, harmless things, he wouldn’t look too closely. But the Blade incident—that’s not small. That’s exactly what he’s been warning about. And if I’d held it back..."

"He’s known everything." Aldric was staring at Marcus like he’d never seen him before. "This whole time. Every report I’ve been writing, every careful word I’ve chosen to present Marron’s progress in the best light—Edmund already knew the truth. From you."

"How long?" Marron asked quietly. "How long until he gets here?"

Marcus flinched. "The express courier left at midnight. Edmund will have the letter by dawn. If he acts immediately..." He checked his pocket watch with shaking hands. "He could be here by mid-morning. With the Council. With—"

"With orders to confiscate the tools and arrest me." Marron finished for him.

"I don’t know. Maybe. He’s been looking for a reason, Marron. Something concrete that proves his theory about corruption. And what happened with Lucy—" Marcus’s voice cracked. "I’m so sorry. I thought I could keep you safe. I thought—"

"You thought your family was more important than mine." Marron picked up the wrapped Blade from where Aldric had placed it on Marcus’s desk that morning. Even through the leather and cloth, she could feel it humming. Excited. The Slicer was getting closer. "I understand. I might have made the same choice."

"Marron—"

"But it doesn’t change what happens next." She looked at Aldric. "How long do we have?"

Aldric was already calculating. "If Edmund received the letter at dawn, if he convened an emergency Council session immediately... three hours. Maybe four if we’re lucky."

"Not enough time to get back to Lumeria and confess before he arrives here." Marron’s mind was racing. "He’ll see my confession as an admission of guilt. Proof that I knew I was dangerous and tried to run before he could stop me."

"Or he’ll see it as you trying to do the right thing—"

"No." Marron’s voice was firm. "Marcus is right. Edmund has been looking for proof. And I just gave it to him. The Blade took control. I lost my will. I smiled while trying to kill my companion." She met Aldric’s eyes. "That’s everything he warned about. Everything he documented in seventeen other cases. I’m not a partner anymore—I’m possessed."

"You’re not—"

"To Edmund, I am. And he won’t risk me hurting someone else while he investigates." She shouldered her pack, began gathering supplies from around the study. "We need to leave. Now."

"And go where?" Aldric demanded. "Marron, running makes you look guilty. It confirms everything Edmund thinks—"

"Staying gets me arrested or killed." She was moving faster now, checking the food cart, securing the wrapped Blade in its reinforced box. "And it doesn’t solve the real problem. The Slicer is still out there. Still getting closer. Whether I’m locked in Edmund’s vault or standing here waiting for the Council, that thing is going to reach Lumeria eventually. And when it does—"

She thought of the joy. The overwhelming, incandescent joy that had erased her will like it was nothing.

"When it does, everyone in this city is in danger. Not just from the Slicer’s wielder, but from me. From what the Blade will make me do when its sibling gets close enough."

Aldric stared at her. "So your plan is to what—hunt down the Slicer’s wielder? Stop them before they reach Lumeria?"

"Yes."

"That’s insane. You can barely control the Blade when the Slicer is distant. If you go toward it, if you get closer—"

"Then I’ll lose control somewhere away from populated areas. Away from innocent people." Marron’s hands were shaking as she secured the last strap on the food cart. "I’d rather die in the Thornwood than let the Blade use me to hurt someone in Marcus’s household. Or in Lumeria. Or anywhere else."

She turned to Marcus, who was still standing by the door looking broken and old.

"I don’t forgive you," she said quietly. "But I understand. You were trying to protect your family. So am I." She gestured to the food cart, to the tools that had gone silent and cold. "This is my family. And I won’t let Edmund lock them away because I failed to be strong enough."

"Marron—" Marcus’s voice was thick with tears.

"Give us an hour head start. Then tell Edmund whatever you want. Tell him I ran. Tell him I refused to surrender. Tell him—" She swallowed hard. "Tell him he was right about me. That I’m the eighteenth case, and I’m going to stop myself before I can hurt anyone else."

She looked at Aldric. "Are you coming?"

He was already shouldering his own pack, his face set. "Someone has to document this. For the record. For—" His voice softened. "For Edmund. So he knows you tried."

"Thank you."

They moved through Marcus’s manor like ghosts, gathering supplies, checking maps, planning a route through the Thornwood that would keep them away from villages and towns. Lucy rode in her new jar, pressed against the far side, her glow dim with fear and betrayal. The other tools stayed silent, their usual hum replaced by cold absence.

They left through the kitchen garden as the sun crested the eastern hills. Behind them, Marcus stood in the doorway watching them go, his hands shaking on his cane.

"I’m sorry," he called one last time. "I’m so sorry."

Marron didn’t look back.

The Thornwood waited ahead—dark and dense and far from anyone the Blade could hurt. And somewhere beyond it, a butcher ran through the dawn with a mandoline that sang with joy.

Four hours. Maybe less.

They had to move fast.

Edmund Erwell received Marcus’s letter with his morning tea. He read it once, quickly. Then again, slowly. Then a third time, his hands beginning to shake.

Subject displayed complete loss of motor control. Blade override was absolute. Subject’s companion nearly killed. Subject was smiling during the incident.

He set down the letter carefully, as if it might explode.

"Theo," he whispered to the empty study. "Oh, Theo. I’m so sorry. I tried to stop this. I tried—"

He stood abruptly, spilling tea across the desk. He didn’t notice.

There was no time for an emergency Council session. No time for debate or vote or careful documentation. If Marron was losing control, if the Blade was possessing her the way the records described—

People would die.

He grabbed his coat, his walking stick, the leather folder containing forty years of research on corrupted wielders. Seventeen cases. Seventeen tragedies that had ended in death or madness or both.

Eighteen. Marron would be eighteen.

Unless he stopped her first.

"Call the guard," he told his assistant. "Full escort. We’re going to Marcus Vell’s estate. Immediately."

"Sir, the Council—"

"There’s no time!" Edmund’s shout echoed off the stone walls. "There’s a wielder losing control, and I will not let another young person destroy themselves because I was too slow to act."

He thought of Aldric. His student. The boy who’d watched his best friend break from obsessive perfectionism. Who’d switched sides after witnessing one healing, convinced that Marron was different.

She’s not different, Edmund thought grimly as he climbed into the carriage. No one ever is. The tools always win in the end.

"Move," he ordered the driver. "As fast as the horses can run."

Behind him, Lumeria’s streets were just beginning to wake. Merchants opening shops, children running to morning lessons, people starting their ordinary days.

None of them knew that a Legendary Tool had just possessed its wielder. None of them knew that somewhere in the Thornwood, a young cook was running from herself.

None of them knew that the Perfection Slicer—sealed for centuries, the tool that had killed everyone who’d tried to wield it—was awake and coming closer.

Edmund gripped his walking stick and stared out the carriage window at the rising sun.

I won’t let you be the eighteenth case, Marron. Even if I have to kill you to stop it.

The carriage raced east toward Marcus Vell’s estate, toward a kitchen that would be empty, toward a confession that would never be made.

Behind them, the city woke to another ordinary morning. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Ahead, in the Thornwood, two young people fled toward something that might destroy them both.

And somewhere between, running through the dawn with a mandoline that glowed red and sang with desperate joy, a butcher smiled his terrible smile and quickened his pace.

The distance was closing.