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Chapter 12. Be a Little Unhappy in My Place
“…You’re not coming to our house today?”
Inside the Morgans family carriage.
Manon, sitting astride Derpel with a ruby necklace around her neck, asked in a coy tone.
Derpel, his face slack and melted with languor, answered lazily.
“Yeah… as always, Father wants the whole family to have dinner together.”
Honestly, such a daddy’s boy.
He acts tough outside, but in front of his strict father he can’t say a word.
Still, Manon carefully hid her cold thoughts and smiled seductively at Derpel.
“All right. Then come see me tonight if you get lonely.”
She slipped back into the dress she had taken off and stepped down from the carriage.
As a commoner, she couldn’t own a carriage.
Walking back toward her house in the city, she lifted the necklace at her throat and studied the ruby carefully.
“…So it really is from the Roderick family jeweler. A fine piece, indeed.”
Unlike the coquettish expression she wore around Derpel, her face now settled into a cold calm.
“I’ll be satisfied with a ruby today. You can buy me an emerald next time.”
In the end, she had failed to wring another jewel out of Derpel.
Even deliberately acting cute and petulant hadn’t worked.
But if she had pushed any harder, he would have grown sick of her.
What she had learned while working as a courtesan was this: men were simple, yet complicated creatures.
If you whined too much, they got tired of you; but if you acted too indifferent, they found you boring.
Finding the perfect middle ground is what matters.
Still, she had gotten a ruby, so today was good enough.
She took off the ruby necklace and carefully tucked it into her pocket.
Then she straightened her shoulders and started walking toward her home.
Her name was Manon.
Born a commoner and never married, she had no surname—just Manon.
If she had to sum up her creed in one sentence, it would be: “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.”
A man’s heart changes.
A woman’s beauty fades with age.
So in the end, the only things that remain in your hands are money, money, money—and money.
In front of Derpel, she pretended to be a foolish woman dazzled by sparkles, but in truth she had little interest in adornment itself.
She only acted that way because nothing was as easily converted into cash as fine jewelry.
Dresses, hats, and bags were expensive, but their value plummeted when resold.
These small, lovely things are my retirement insurance.
It was just as she neared her home, clutching the pocket with the ruby inside, that she noticed something.
Middle-aged women passing by cast her sidelong, reproachful glances and whispered among themselves.
“That woman—apparently she’s from a courtesan background…”
Manon knew well enough what the neighbors said about her.
A shameless bitch who seduced a rich married man.
“What are you looking at?”
Manon snapped, glaring at the woman.
“Does it bother you that a former whore and adulteress lives next door?”
The middle-aged woman flushed, flustered, and muttered in disbelief.
“Oh my goodness… as if meeting a married man is something to be proud of…”
But Manon didn’t shrink back. She glared viciously at the woman.
And why should I be ashamed?
She truly believed that.
Born into the lowest depths, she now lived on the top floor of the finest housing a commoner could afford in the city.
Her two younger brothers were able to attend school thanks to her support.
Compared to the days she starved in the slums, this was nothing short of heaven.
Had they ever been sold by their own mother to a red-light district for three silver coins?
Ever gone half a month without food?
Ever smiled obsequiously while enduring every kind of humiliation from tavern customers?
People who’ve never lived through that have no right to judge me.
Drowned in deep self-pity born of her miserable past, she had no room left to notice the suffering of others.
She believed that having a conscience was a luxury reserved for nobles and the rich.
The fact that she had been hurt did not justify hurting others—but Manon couldn’t understand that.
She shouted at the woman, eyes blazing with malice.
“What, are you scared I’ll seduce your husband too? Don’t worry, lady! A balding old man with no money like him—XX, I wouldn’t take him even if you paid me!”
As she hurled vulgar insults, the woman turned red and pointed at her, spewing curses in return.
Whatever. Manon ignored her lightly and went inside her home.
A small but ornate room on the top floor of the building.
Though illiterate and uneducated, there was one thing she understood better than anyone else.
Her own place in the world.
This was the highest she could ever climb.
A commoner with no surname, a former courtesan, a mistress who could never be properly married—this was as far as she could go.
But unlike me, that woman…
Manon recalled Derpel’s wife, whom she had seen earlier that day.
Silver hair like rippling waves, and blue eyes.
Her delicate face was so pure it looked as though it had never known a single worry in the world.
“…How unlucky.”
She must have never suffered once in her life. It was obvious.
So, Lady Morgans.
“…You should be a little unhappy in my place.”
After all, you were born a noble and never had to starve your entire life, didn’t you?
So I won’t feel sorry.
Staring blankly at the gorgeous yet empty interior of her home, she murmured softly.
“My child… I’ll never let them live a life like mine…”
And so, once again vowing to divorce anew, I was heading toward the place where my carriage was waiting.
No matter what, seeing my husband cheating with my own eyes wasn’t something anyone could feel good about.
I have to see that face again when I get home?
Having to sit across from that disgusting face and eat together even when I didn’t want to—was this the true horror of marriage?
Grumbling to myself as I walked, that was when it happened.
…Wait.
I stopped abruptly in front of a small building.
This smell…
Having once been a barista, my sense of smell was particularly keen.
As if enchanted, I followed the rich aroma and turned into a building tucked away in an alley.
From inside, I heard two men talking.
“Ugh. This tastes awful!”
“Who would ever drink something so bitter—just black water?”
I peeked inside.
Two men wearing aprons were holding teacups filled with a black liquid, grumbling.
It looked as though they had brewed whole coffee beans; in the teapot beside them, beans floated on the surface of the water.
That’s coffee?! I knew my nose wasn’t wrong. What a waste of good beans…
“How on earth did they even get coffee beans?”
At this point in time, there were only two people in the Croiten Empire who might possess coffee beans.
Taeyon Roderick, who was preparing a coffee business.
And Empress Consort Carlotta.
In the original story, the woman behind the scenes often drank coffee instead of black tea.
That was because she came from the Duchy of Venetia, famous for its coffee.
If that’s the case, this place is practically a tiger’s den for me…
The Morgans family would later be executed for treason after supporting that very empress and the Second Prince.
At least until I divorced Derpel, I needed to stay as far away from the empress as possible.
But… but coffee…
After catching the scent of coffee for the first time in ages, I stood there, torn and fidgeting.
But the two men in aprons were fidgeting just as much.
“Being told to research how to brew these black beans properly… Even if it’s the Grand Duke Roderick’s order, how are we supposed to do that?”
“We’re tea masters—people who brew tea, not beans.”
…What are they talking about?
I was too far away to hear clearly.
But one thing was obvious: they were in serious trouble.
Ah, coffee… coffee, right in front of me…
After days without even a sip, the aroma made me desperately crave a cup.
Since becoming a barista, this was the longest I’d ever gone without coffee.
At this moment, I would have paid a fortune just for a single sip.
Then—
“Ugh, all it did was ruin my palate. As expected, any drink other than black tea is garbage.”
“Yeah. We should just throw it in the trash—”
Muttering like that, they carried a bag full of fresh beans toward the trash bin.
“No!”
The desperate shout that burst from my mouth was almost instinctive.
“Huh? Just now—”
“Who’s there?!”
The men who were about to throw away the coffee cried out warily.
