🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 37
Seven Breads. Things Escalate Quickly (6)
On Damian’s porcelain-doll-like face, a flush of warmth appeared, unlike before. Now he finally looked somewhat human.
“What is this?”
“It’s cream made by simmering and mashing chestnuts with sugar and honey. It’s also in the cake batter.”
His beautiful face immediately crumpled. Ellie couldn’t help but grin. She had unintentionally delivered the hidden twist that Ban had mentioned.
“Have you ever eaten chestnuts?”
“…I never had the chance.”
Maurice had said chestnuts were just snacks that children pick up while playing. Damian, though, didn’t look like the kind who had run through fields or forests, innocently playing house.
“Judging that something tastes bad without even trying it is prejudice. There are so many delicious things in the world; isn’t it a shame to miss out on them just because of prejudice?”
Worried she might have sounded like she was lecturing, Ellie subtly glanced at Damian. He squinted his eyes at the mini cupcake before him, but fortunately, he didn’t seem angry.
Damian touched his chin with his finger and said,
“You have a point. You’re quite articulate, huh?”
“Hehe, thank you.”
Feeling slightly cheeky, Ellie clasped her hands and smiled like a humble subordinate. Maurice looked at her, flustered, and Damian let out a short laugh.
“So what you said about it being fun… was true, Maurice.”
“I don’t know how to lie.”
“That’s a lie in itself. I’m using you because you lie so well.”
“That’s sad. You don’t believe me.”
“Well, this time I can’t deny that you’re telling the truth. It’s been a while since I had this much fun.”
Ellie wondered how a man who didn’t seem to have even reached thirty could have lived such a boring life to become such a dopamine hunter.
‘Earlier, it seemed Maurice called him “Your Highness”…?’
She glanced at Maurice, but he gave no signal, even though their eyes met. What is this guy…?
Then Damian called Ellie.
“Ellie, was it? What is this made of?”
“Oh, yes! This is a pastry called a ‘butter cookie.’ It’s made with flour, sugar, butter, and eggs…”
Before she could finish speaking, Damian popped the cookie into his mouth. The crisp sound rang out, and Ellie anxiously watched only his lips.
Of course, the butter cookie was delicious, but tastes vary, so she couldn’t predict his reaction. Damian’s expression was unreadable.
“This is just okay. Next.”
“This is a meringue cookie. We whisk egg whites and sugar into meringue, add coloring, and bake them so they’re colorful and pretty.”
“Looks like candy, in a way.”
“Please try it.”
“My niece would like this.”
Damian gave Ellie a sidelong glance while she enthusiastically promoted the treats.
Even though she knew it was a meaningless look, her stomach tightened.
It was strange.
Damian was breathtakingly beautiful, almost inhuman, yet not threatening in the slightest—but every move of his made her hyperaware.
Like a sparrow before a tiger, a natural sense of danger kept her tense.
Damian rolled the meringue cookie between his fingers, observing Ellie’s nervousness.
“No need to be so tense. I’m not going to do anything to you immediately.”
“Ah, yes. Yes. I’ll calm down.”
Maurice’s betrayed gaze made her cheeks burn. Hey, you subordinate…! Ah, you wanted me to impress you. A silent exchange of emotions passed.
Damian watched Ellie, maintaining her subordinate smile, then popped the meringue cookie into his mouth. His eyes widened in surprise.
“It’s gone…!”
“Wow, isn’t it fun? Do you like it?”
Instead of answering, Damian grabbed another meringue cookie and smiled with satisfaction. This time, it was a bright, joyful smile, full of happiness.
Ellie was certain.
Damian’s tongue now belonged to her.
‘It’s a little anticlimactic that his favorite isn’t the other desserts we struggled with, but just the meringue cookie that only takes time to bake and dry…’
Well, good is good.
“Alright, Maurice. Do as you said.”
“Thank you.”
Ellie looked around, bewildered. She didn’t yet know his true identity to celebrate properly.
Wait, who are you… what are you…?
Ellie rolled her large blue eyes. Damian asked Maurice after seeing this.
“Haven’t I told you who I am?”
“You haven’t allowed it yet. Should I tell her?”
“Well… don’t. It seems more fun that way.”
“Yes, understood.”
Maurice answered promptly, and this time Ellie glared at him with eyes full of betrayal. Hey, we were supposed to be partners, you traitor. Maurice silently replied. No words for a subordinate.
Damian began eating the blueberry cream cake in earnest. Despite his graceful gestures, the cake disappeared in chunks.
“Tastes good.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Reflexively, she thanked him.
Maurice, seeing Ellie timidly puffing out her cheeks without daring to be angry, patted her shoulder.
“Well done, Ellie. I knew you could do it. I didn’t know you were so good at flattery, but still, well done.”
“…???”
“Excellent. Very commendable.”
“…???????”
What the heck…?
Ellie wouldn’t learn Damian’s true identity until two months later.
<Cookie Walking> was a roaring success.
Nobles closely tied to the exclusive trading guild <Mammoth> received the dessert sets first and served them at parties.
The response was immediate.
The social circles of Rayard, the capital of the Kingdom of Rosso, quickly became enamored with this beautiful new dessert.
Butter cookies and meringue cookies that fit in one bite, and a visually stunning cream cake.
Maurice sold these three together on pretty plates. Even the plates were graded with absurdly high prices: Black Label, Gold Label, etc.
For people accustomed only to fruits or flowers preserved in honey, this three-piece dessert set was revolutionary.
<Cookie Walking> limited sales to 30 sets per day.
Limited, exclusive, trendy.
Three keywords that captured everyone’s attention—success was inevitable.
“Why only 30 sets!”
“We really need it! We’ll pay more; sell at least 50 a day!”
<Mammoth Guild>, controlling sales and distribution, struggled to handle the increasingly frenzied buyers.
But for Ellie, selling only 30 sets a day was already the limit.
Even if she delegated much to Malina, her main job was baking.
Fresh cream cakes, like bread, had to be made and sold the same day. Cookies and meringues lasted longer, but the workload didn’t decrease.
“I… I can’t do this alone…”
At first, Ellie had been thrilled at her success, but now she was gripped by the fear of dying from overwork.
Am I living too hard right now? This isn’t right…
‘It feels like just yesterday I was running a quaint little shop… how did things get so big?’
Just as a mountain stream swells suddenly, trends can explode work almost overnight.
Ellie worked every single day for a month. No time to sleep, no time for part-time help. Without Edmond nagging and giving her guidance, she would have collapsed long ago.
“Are you planning to work yourself to death? Why can’t you rest?”
“I… made a contract to do this…”
When Ellie complained with a tearful face, Ban cheerfully said,
“Then we just need to kill Maurice, right? Wait a moment, Ellie. It’ll be done soon. Eddy, let’s go to the guild.”
“You crazy man, jokes should stay jokes.”
“I’m serious. Better than letting Ellie die.”
He was saying something terrifying with a cheerful tone, sincerely.
At that moment, Malina cautiously suggested while watching tearful Ellie and the two boys—no, two leeches, no, two men.
“Then how about training a disciple?”
The next day, a cooking class was held.
While Ellie was on the verge of death from overwork…
“Irene, how long are you going to go without eating? What if you collapse?”
“….”
“I’ve done everything wrong, Irene. I knew you were frustrated, and I worried too much and tried to overprotect you. I understand. I won’t ask anything.”
The Duke of MacClure knelt, pleading desperately.
Since running away, Irene had seemed like a mere shell of herself.
“Please, just eat something. You’ve finally become my true daughter. I can finally prepare the best future and husband for you…”
Irene glanced weakly at her father, then lowered her gaze again.
“Look at this. It’s a dessert that’s all the rage these days. You need to eat something to regain strength. Anything…”
“…Ah.”
Irene reached out almost unconsciously. Her father was holding a cookie.
‘Ellie made this.’
Seeing him hold it seemed grotesque.
Irene couldn’t bring herself to eat it.
She felt disgusted that her father’s love for her was real. Disgusted with herself for being unable to reject him.
No, most of all, she hated herself for causing Franz’s death.
Only after he died did she realize he was her first love—his kindness in helping strangers, the mature, knowing smile, the hands that patted her head while praising her.
All swept away in my own chaos. Probably even to my father.
“Why are you doing this? If you keep acting like this, I’ll have no choice but to ask that fool Hastings what happened to you. I know you conspired with him to deceive me. I didn’t even want to ask.”
Irene’s shoulders trembled. Her father’s tearful face was red with desperate longing.
‘Father truly knows nothing.’
Then the one who killed Franz wasn’t her father—it was Seth Hastings.
