Copper & Thyme was as warm inside as it had looked from the street.

The dining room was small—maybe ten tables, each with a simple white cloth and a single candle. The walls were painted a soft cream color, and copper pots hung from hooks along one wall, catching the candlelight like small suns. It smelled incredible: roasted herbs, butter, something sweet baking in the back.

It felt like the street market and the upper district had somehow found a middle ground—beautiful but not pretentious, elevated but not cold.

"Sit," Simone said, gesturing to a table near the window. "I'll get us some tea."

Marron sat, her eyes drawn back to the window display. The pot was even more striking from this side, backlit by the fading sunlight. She could see the inscription more clearly now—strange symbols that seemed to shimmer slightly, as if they were moving.

Simone returned with a teapot and two cups, settling across from Marron with a quiet sigh. "Long day," she said, pouring. "Always is when you run a place by yourself."

"You don't have staff?"

"A few. But I do most of the cooking myself. That's why I opened this place—I wanted to cook food I actually cared about, not just what would impress critics or attract investors." She slid a cup across to Marron. "The upper district doesn't always understand that philosophy."

Marron took a sip. The tea was perfect—floral and slightly sweet, with a hint of something citrus. "How do you stay in business here, then?"

"Carefully." Simone smiled. "I have enough regulars who appreciate what I do. And my Guild certification helps—gives me legitimacy in their eyes, even if my restaurant isn't flashy." She gestured around. "This is what I wanted. Small, honest, mine."

Marron understood that feeling completely.

"So," Simone said, setting down her cup. "Tell me about this dream."

Marron hesitated, then pulled out her mother's notebook. She opened it to the sketch she'd made—the copper pot, rendered in quick pencil strokes but unmistakably the same as the one in the window.

"I had it a week and a half ago," she began. "After I survived a mimic dungeon. I dreamed about... tools. Legendary Tools, I guess. Things made with such skill or magic that they become something more than just cookware."

"And the pot was one of them?"

"Yes. A copper pot that never boils over. Perfect heat distribution, perfect control. It would mean you could cook anything—stocks, stews, delicate sauces—without constantly watching and adjusting. You could trust it."

Simone was quiet for a long moment, studying the sketch. Then she looked at the pot in the window, and something complicated crossed her face—amusement mixed with something sadder.

"My grandmother told me stories," she said slowly. "She was from the eastern provinces originally, came to Lumeria when she was young. She brought that pot with her—said it was the only thing worth carrying across half a continent." Simone's fingers traced the rim of her teacup. "She used it every day. Made soups that could cure illness, stocks that tasted like sunshine, stews that made you feel like you were home no matter where you were."

"She sounds amazing."

"She was. She taught me everything I know about cooking. Not technique—I learned that at the Guild—but heart. She taught me that food is love made visible." Simone smiled sadly. "When she died, she left me the pot. But I could never bring myself to use it. It felt... I don't know. Too precious. Like I wasn't worthy of it."

Marron understood that feeling too. She thought about how she'd chosen "food cart girl" on her rebirth form instead of "chef" because she hadn't felt worthy of her mother's title.

"What if—" Marron started, then stopped.

"What if what?"

"What if the pot's been waiting for someone who is worthy? Not because they're perfect, but because they're ready?"

Simone's expression shifted—still kind, but knowing now. Almost pitying. "You're not the first person to say something like that."

"What do you mean?"

"The pot." Simone stood and walked to the window display. "I've given it away eleven times in the last fifteen years."

Marron blinked. "What?"

"Eleven times," Simone repeated, lifting the pot carefully. "To chefs who walked by and saw it, who insisted they felt a connection, who dreamed about it or claimed it was calling to them." She brought it back to the table and set it down between them. "Every single one brought it back within a week. Sometimes less."

Marron stared at the pot, then at Simone. "Why?"

"Because it's just a pot," Simone said gently. "A beautiful, well-made copper pot that my grandmother loved. But it's not magic. It doesn't control heat perfectly. It boils over just like any other pot if you're not paying attention. The inscription—" She traced the symbols with her finger. "—is decorative. Old eastern script that nobody can read anymore, not even me."

"But the stories—"

"Were stories. My grandmother was a romantic. She loved turning ordinary things into legends." Simone's voice was warm, not dismissive. "The pot was special to her because she cooked with love and patience. The food was magical because she was skilled. Not because the cookware was enchanted."

Marron felt something cold settle in her stomach. "But I dreamed about it. After the mimic dungeon, I saw it—"

"You saw a copper pot. A symbol of mastery, maybe. Of what you want to achieve." Simone pushed it across the table. "Take it anyway. Please. Use it, test it, see for yourself. If it's what you're looking for, wonderful. If not—" She shrugged. "Bring it back, like the others. No judgment."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Honestly, at this point, I'm curious what makes people think it's special. Maybe you'll figure it out." Simone smiled. "And if it helps you cook better food—even just because you believe it will—then that's magic enough, isn't it?"

Marron reached out slowly and touched the pot. It felt... like a pot. Copper, cool to the touch, well-balanced but not impossibly so. No warmth, no welcoming feeling, no sense of rightness.

Just a very nice pot.

"Take it," Simone said again. "Really. I want you to."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.