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Chapter 02
My day begins at 6 a.m.
I wake up to the dim morning sunlight and cover my brother, who has tumbled to the floor, with a blanket.
I want to braid my long hair neatly, but today I don’t have the time.
“There’s a reserved guest this morning.”
I take a spoonful of the cold oatmeal and roughly tie my hair.
Next to the hair tie, I notice a tiny bouquet of wildflowers. It’s my brother’s habit—picking pretty flowers and weaving them into little gifts for me.
The way he combines pink wildflowers with fresh green sprouts is surprisingly delicate.
“Heh.”
I chuckle quietly.
I tuck the bouquet between my hair and the tie, then sneak a glance in the mirror.
The pink flowers don’t exactly match my ash-gray hair, but it gives me a feeling that spring has arrived, and my heart flutters for no reason.
“It’s pretty, I guess.”
If I had a pink dress like Sara, it would match better. The green dress Meribel made recently might also work.
Unfortunately, my wardrobe consists of only two yellow dresses with faded dye, a brown vest, and a cheap lace shawl—and I have to wear them sparingly.
I check for holes in my clothes, then neatly iron and put them on. I think I can wear them for another half-year.
6:30 a.m. Time to leave the house.
Creak—.
I open the door of the cottage covered in thick ivy, and white fluffy clouds hanging over the hill greet me.
Sunlight drifts gently through the oak forest, sparkling like gold.
Someone once said the scenery of our village is like a painting.
But a morning after the rain is far more beautiful than a fleeting painting.
I stop briefly in front of the door, deeply inhaling the tranquil scene.
Just breathing feels fulfilling.
“All right, let’s do our best today, too.”
As I follow the winding path down the hill, I see the cluster of red brick houses.
These are the homes of the herbalists living near the mountain. Nearby is the house of Uncle Bill and Aunt Monica, who greatly helped our siblings settle in the village.
“Child, forget the hardships. Think of this as your home now, and just grow up healthy.”
I will never forget what they told me.
Cluck-cluck. The hen recognizes me and leaves the chicken coop. The yellow chicks follow in line.
“Cluck, you can’t come along. Go on inside.”
I pat the sulky hen and chicks one by one, then turn the corner and enter the village center.
Just three steps from here—
“Wow, croissants today?”
The irresistible smell of freshly baked bread drifts through the air, as always.
I check my pocket money and sigh deeply. If I’m to pay taxes to Lord Cromwell tomorrow, I’ll have to make do with oatmeal and potatoes today.
Just as I turn to leave—
“Hazel!”
Aunt Maria opens the bakery door and stops me. Steam rises from the croissant in her hand.
“Good morning, Aunt Maria!”
I smile brightly and wave, and she responds with an even brighter smile.
“You’re always so diligent, Hazel. We baked a new bread today—would you like to try some?”
“…Is that all right?”
I accept the bread with a shy smile. Even this month, this is already the third time I’ve been given a sample.
I am always grateful for Aunt Maria’s kindness, knowing she takes pity on me.
Holding the warm bread in my arms, my steps naturally lighten.
I leave the village center, paved with wide white stones, and enter the alley beside Grandpa Albert’s bookstore—he just turned 100 this year.
The alley is dark, blocked from sunlight by a large tree.
There stands the small general store my brother and I run.
Golden General Store.
Despite its name suggesting endless gold, dust piles up inside instead.
“The sign is crooked again.”
I straighten the slanted wooden sign, then turn the doorknob, the paint half-peeled.
Ding-dong—.
The fish-shaped bell inside spins clockwise.
The narrow shop, where four people would barely fit, feels much brighter than the alley outside.
“How have you been, Ssuk-suk? Was everything fine last night?”
I greet the potted plants under the window sill while taking a bite of the warm croissant.
Crisp crumbs break apart, raspberry jam and custard cream filling my mouth. I can’t help humming happily.
“Mmm, it’s so delicious. Aunt Maria is a genius.”
Simultaneously, I feel guilty.
This bread is obviously expensive. Am I really allowed to eat it?
But my hands move faster than my thoughts, devouring it quickly. Perhaps because it’s been three days since I last tasted something so flavorful.
I give the end piece, free of jam, to a stray cat, then tie a white apron hanging on the right wall.
I sweep crumbs and dust with a broom, arranging the items on the display neatly.
Most of these goods are old and might never sell.
“If only my brother worked enough to get new stock….”
He only works enough to keep us from starving, and even then, he’s usually drunk.
“And we’re running low on holy water, too…what should I do?”
Holy water.
Water essential for purifying bodies and objects tainted by dark magic.
It’s one of Golden General Store’s main products.
We never sell 100% pure holy water, only 10% or 30% diluted solutions.
In a remote mountain village barely affected by dark magic, even this is rarely sought after.
I place the remaining emergency holy water on the shelves and check the reservation list.
Most names are familiar—except one, the 8 a.m. reservation.
Baron.
“Who’s that? I’ve never seen this name before.”
Visitors to Luden Village fall into three categories:
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Relatives of villagers, usually refugees from the civil war, who settle permanently.
-
People from Cromwell Castle, rarely visiting except once a month to collect taxes; naturally, they aren’t well-liked by villagers.
-
Imperial army of the royal empire, who maintain order without siding in the 15-year-long civil war, visiting Luden Village near monster territory to collect holy water.
Ding-ding. The fish bell announces a customer, and I reflexively smile brightly. A cheerful welcome is essential for a shop owner.
“Welcome!”
Strands of fine black hair sway through the doorway.
A man much taller than the door bows his head as he enters.
He isn’t just tall—his frame is massive, his broad shoulders and thick back muscles demanding attention.
‘A soldier?’
I haven’t heard any news about the imperial army coming.
“Is this the Golden General Store?”
His deep voice sends a shiver down my spine.
When he lifts his head, his blood-red eyes sparkle sharply.
Sunlight hits his sculpted brows and nose, making him look unrealistically handsome.
‘Wow…’
A dangerous man, out of place in this peaceful rural village.
That’s my first impression.
I can’t help staring, but when our eyes meet, I quickly turn away.
For the record, handsome and well-built men aren’t my type.
Even if they’re good-looking, big men are useless—they only eat a lot.
A man must be diligent.
Diligent men resemble freshly dug potatoes—compact, strong, not large.
Such men never starve their wives or children.
Hardworking men who eat little and labor much are the ideal husbands in a rural village.
I clear my throat, readjust my smile.
“Yes, this is the Golden General Store. Are you here to buy holy water?”
“No, I’m looking for the owner of this item.”
He approaches the counter, and the sheer presence feels like a wall pressing down. Not just his size, but his aura.
Through the gap of his loose shirt, his chest muscles peek briefly.
If Sara were here, she’d be cheering—but I just feel embarrassed.
‘Foreigners, really…’
My eyes dart around helplessly.
Then he takes a small ring from a box and places it on the counter.
