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Chapter – 02
Yes, they were truly foolish.
Even after all the beatings that didn’t break a single bone, and despite the fact that Brielle had learned to speak and write on her own without anyone teaching her, they had never found it strange. Such complacency was nothing short of idiocy.
Brielle was a natural-born merchant, a true prodigy. In truth, what the Taylors had given birth to was not a demon, but a person with extraordinary talent capable of bringing honor to the family. Compared to their inability to recognize this, her existence was nothing less than a miracle.
Thanks to their foolishness, she had managed to run away successfully—a small mercy in Brielle’s eyes.
“…Being idiots isn’t unique to the Taylors either.”
Brielle murmured softly as she turned back to the documents she had taken from the safe. The papers were filled with familiar names. She remembered exactly how each of them had looked at her.
From the beginning, Viscount Taylor had never hidden his dislike for his daughter.
‘Perhaps it’s because my precious heir and dear wife nearly lost their lives… Yet I cannot bring myself to love my daughter. But what can I do? She is of the Taylor bloodline, after all; I cannot cast her out.’
The aristocrats close to the viscount had framed this discrimination as the act of a kind, devoted husband and a nobleman who valued family. Even the king himself praised it as the “grace of a noble family accepting a flawed daughter.”
Meanwhile, Brielle Taylor became burdened with an enormous trial from the viscount and his wife, gaining a reputation as a troublesome nuisance.
‘Berkshire’s future looks grim. Not only did they ignore blatant abuse, they even praised it as noble behavior.’
Though the past often gains a glossy sheen over time, that did not apply to Brielle. She reflected on the wounds of her childhood, tapping the papers on her palm.
That was enough reminiscing. Now it was time to focus on the present and future.
“…According to what’s written here, they’re all banding together to cover for each other. Hmm.”
The papers Brielle had found in the safe were resolutions signed by Viscount Taylor and several other high-ranking nobles. Under the heading that the families of Berkshire would support one another when needed, the scope of assistance was explicitly listed:
<Land disputes, property and inheritance rights, marriage issues, and other legal assistance in cases or incidents.>
To Brielle, these terms were easily decoded.
“Land disputes mean they want to grab commoners’ land outright, property rights are clearly about primogeniture, and marriage… well, that’s about men trying to cheat women out of their share.”
By the time she reached the last item, Brielle couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh.
“‘Legal assistance,’ they say.”
They had dressed up a pact to cover one another’s crimes in proper ‘noble’ language.
If left unchecked, they could commit atrocities without facing a single consequence. History would record these criminals as the esteemed nobles who led Berkshire. Just as Viscount Taylor could commit cruel abuse on Brielle and yet be regarded as a model aristocrat in society.
This simply wouldn’t do.
Brielle’s plan to take revenge on the Taylors by subtly draining some of their wealth was now entirely outdated.
“How can I leave this be? I need to step in and stop them.”
Finally making a firm decision, Brielle’s face bloomed with a radiant smile.
At that moment, Molly appeared, determined to find out what ridiculous scheme Brielle was plotting this time.
Brielle grabbed her arm tightly and announced her newly added occupation.
“I’m going to become a thief!”
“Eh?”
Catching Molly before she could stumble backward in shock, Brielle clarified, adding, almost teasingly:
“Of course, I’ll still run my business as planned. Business by day, thief by night.”
Brielle decided to name her café “The Noon Garden.” The name highlighted a spacious garden suited for tea parties, with the added meaning that business would end without fail once the sun went down.
“Nice in summer, but won’t the hours be too short in winter? Still, the garden’s a good touch. Makes drinking tea enjoyable.”
The day before the café’s opening, Brielle’s peer and friend, Octavia Wood, arrived. She nibbled on pastries Molly had baked while speaking.
“I thought you’d go bankrupt instantly, opening a café out here in such a remote spot… but you’ve got luck on your side!”
“Luck?” Brielle asked. Octavia handed over a bundle of papers, the front marked Berkshire Times in bold letters.
“This is today’s morning edition. A tram is coming right in front of your café! It’s the kingdom’s first tram, passing directly by here.”
As Octavia said, the tram installation was front-page news. Brielle skimmed the newspaper nonchalantly. Octavia’s face showed her astonishment.
“Why aren’t you reacting? Isn’t this great news?”
“It is good news, but not surprising news. I knew about it beforehand.”
“Impossible! Didn’t you see this? It was a top-secret project. Even our reporter got the scoop just by chance last night!”
Octavia, daughter of the newspaper’s owner, pressed Brielle with a tone full of conviction. She knew she was the only reliable source for inside information.
Brielle only smiled faintly, lifting the corners of her mouth. Octavia’s expression fell.
“How on earth did you know?” she asked.
“Nothing fancy. While looking for a café, I noticed workers renovating floors around the city. I suspected something.”
Octavia scratched her red curls instinctively, frustrated, and Brielle continued.
“Plus, according to the newspaper, there have been frequent false fire alarms along the coast recently. Articles reported that more ships have been arriving from Rutland since last week, which confirmed my suspicion.”
“You’re speaking a different language from me, right?”
“Haha, no. Just think about it. What’s along the coast of Berkshire?”
Octavia tilted her head in thought. After a few tense seconds, she blurted the answer.
“A… steel mill?”
“Exactly! The mill runs day and night, creating steam that people mistake for fire. Considering Rutland mainly exports iron ore and the citywide floor renovations are happening simultaneously, the tram installation was the only conclusion.”
Octavia looked a decade older than before, a mix of fear and awe, as she finished her snack.
“You know, you should’ve opened a fortune-telling shop or something. Just tell people the result, skip the process, and they’d freak out thinking you’re a prophet.”
“That wouldn’t let the world know about Molly’s pastries. You said these need to become famous.”
“Oh, right!” Octavia looked at the empty plate, disappointed the treats were gone. She reached for her cooled teacup to make up for the lost sweets. Then suddenly,
“Ugh… this tea tastes… wrong!”
She immediately spat it onto the floor. Her green eyes glared in distress, nostrils flaring with hot air.
“You’ve been scammed! Did you buy bad leaves? This is spoiled!”
“…Is it that bad?”
Seeing Octavia so worked up, Brielle sighed sympathetically. She opened her notebook on her lap and explained calmly.
“The leaves are top quality. It’s just that I’m experimenting with brewing conditions—temperature and steeping time. Haven’t found the perfect balance yet.”
“You crazy person! You used your only friend as a test subject?”
Octavia’s sharp slap landed squarely on Brielle’s back—a confession better left unsaid.
