Chapter 28
The Rabbit’s Word of Mouth
“What?”
Both Lady Chiara and Fenel looked even more startled by my reaction. I checked the message again to be sure.
“White Veil, you said?”
That was the name of the brand Lady Lilis had launched.
A veil? It sounds like something only the most modest bride should wear.
I already didn’t like the name.
Since it was created by the daughter of one of the Empire’s founding families, it had stirred up massive attention from the very first day. Rumor had it that the pop-up store looked almost identical to Black Diamond—as if they’d just swapped the sign and wallpaper.
“I expected something like this, my lady.”
“What do you mean, Cornelia?”
I told her honestly what I’d heard from Senior Yul, and instead of calming her, it only fanned her fury.
“What? That thieving wench stole our design files? And my brand?!”
Lady Chiara was livid, and Fenel wasn’t any calmer.
“There should be at least a shred of decency among nobles… such disgrace! Truly pitiful behavior for one descended from the Empire’s founders!”
Honestly, I had to bite back a laugh. Normally, a ducal household would’ve planted spies far more discreetly.
At the very least, they’d have copied the proposal, returned the original, and pretended it was coincidence. But I suppose that’s not easy to pull off. Ha!
No one could easily replicate my handcrafted presentation. I’d drawn every illustration myself. Even trying to rewrite it without understanding the concept would just create more problems.
The thought of some spy sweating over my work, desperately trying to mimic it, was so funny I almost snorted.
They must’ve stolen the whole thing outright. Still, without solid proof, it’ll be hard to accuse the ducal family directly.
Well, at least it gave me a useful advantage—and I fully intended to make use of it.
If they copied it, it meant they’d already run out of ideas.
“Please calm down, my lady, Fenel,” I said, worried they’d both explode. “The Duchess has practically rolled out a red carpet for us. We should be pleased.”
I leaned in and whispered my plan.
Slowly, the rage faded from Chiara’s eyes, replaced by astonished delight.
“What? Tell me too!”
“Keep your mouth shut.”
Eidan’s protest came from behind us, but Lady Chiara brushed it off with the grace of someone swatting away a fly.
That day, my “Quit Prevention Counseling Café” was as quiet as ever.
The guild had advertised it well, but since Miss Rabbit’s visit, not a single new customer had appeared. I overheard one of the guild workers muttering, “Who’d pay just to talk about their problems?”
You’d be surprised how many office workers would, I thought bitterly—but then again, this world’s work culture lagged centuries behind mine. Maybe it wasn’t such a strange reaction.
Still, not everyone here was hopelessly old-fashioned. The mix of people made the place hard to define.
“Maybe I should change business fields…” I sighed aloud.
Ding-dong.
The bell rang. I straightened up immediately, ready to greet a customer.
“Master Quokka!”
It was easy to recognize her—the first and only customer I’d ever had. I opened the counseling partition with practiced speed.
“Miss Rabbit? Oh—!”
She wasn’t even wearing her mask. Seeing someone’s bare face so suddenly made me stammer.
“Y-you need to wear your mask!”
But she didn’t care in the slightest. Her silvery hair glowed white under the light, and her bright red eyes sparkled.
“I can’t give my thanks while hiding my face!”
“…Pardon?”
“The advice you gave me really helped! My senior doesn’t hate me anymore!”
She was so excited she actually hopped in place like her nickname suggested. I blinked, trying to catch up.
“Calm down and start from the beginning.”
At my words, she finally sat properly.
“I did just what you said! I braced myself to get scolded twice a day—once before work, once before leaving. I wrote down my questions and asked them all at once.”
Exactly what I’d told her. When your boss is swamped, the worst thing you can do is pester them mid-task. Handle your timing well, and they’ll actually want to help you.
“I did that for a week! At first, my senior looked annoyed, but then he started explaining things kindly. And writing my questions down helped me realize what I didn’t understand!”
“You must’ve started asking fewer repeat questions, right?”
Her eyes widened. “How did you know?”
“Because when you organize your thoughts, you don’t keep asking the same things. It’s not bad to ask right away, but writing them down and asking once keeps things clean. Seniors remember everything—it’s ironic how they forget their own newbie days. That’s probably why he’s calmer now.”
“I see! Thanks to you, I get along with him now—and I’m learning so much faster!”
Then she placed a small box on the table.
“It’s strawberry cream cake from Lesera! It’s super famous—I queued since morning to buy it! You have to try it!”
When I opened the box, the sight of the perfectly frosted cake made my mouth water. The thought that she’d taken time out of her morning for this touched me.
“Thank you. I’ll enjoy it.”
“No, thank you! Master Quokka! I’ll tell everyone about you!”
As she left, I quietly wished her good luck with her treacherous workplace.
Justice accomplished—one less case of resignation temptation.
I congratulated myself and took a bite of the cake. The sweetness was pure happiness.
True to her word, Miss Rabbit spread the word.
Soon, customers started trickling in—so many that I had to start scheduling reservations. Most were first-time visitors using free consultation coupons, but still, it was progress.
Thankfully, their problems are still within my ability to advise on.
I didn’t pretend I could solve everything. My job was to listen. Some regulars even started booking follow-ups. Surprisingly, I enjoyed it—listening to people’s troubles felt oddly soothing.
Ding-dong.
The bell chimed again. My last appointment for the day.
When the signal came, I opened the partition smoothly.
The customer wore a bull mask.
“Please, tell me about the problem that’s making you want to quit.”
The Bull said nothing—just sighed. Over and over. I waited patiently. After all, every minute counted toward my pay.
“That damn… ugh.”
He swallowed his words. I could sense his hesitation.
“This room is completely soundproof,” I said gently. “No one knows your face. I don’t care who you are. Say what you need to. You’re safe here.”
“Really?”
I nodded firmly, giving him confidence. That seemed to do it.
He inhaled deeply—then bellowed,
“THAT CRAZY BASTARD OF A BOSS!!!”
At last, the expensive soundproof artifact earned its keep.
Every time the Bull screamed a curse, I nodded approvingly.
Yes, let it out. That’s it.
At first, he sounded awkward, but soon, he was swearing like a man possessed.
“Sorry, but… can I come here often?” he finally asked.
“Of course,” I said.
He left some money on the table, muttered a few more insults, and disappeared.
“…Well. That’s profitable.”
It was strange but satisfying. Stressed workers often acted unpredictably anyway.
And sure enough, he came again. Always with the same bull mask, always yelling about his boss, always paying in full.
By the fifth session, he finally spoke in full sentences.
“I must say, this place truly guarantees confidentiality. I’m still alive, after all.”
He spoke so calmly that it was almost funny.
“Of course. That’s the whole point of anonymity.”
“I work in the Imperial Palace,” he said suddenly.
He must have spent days deciding whether he could trust me.
“I see.”
“My boss is… of noble blood. A genius, so handsome he looks unreal, annoyingly perfect. Brilliant swordsman, flawless work ethic, sharp mind. Never makes a single mistake.”
“Sounds like the ideal superior.”
Lucky man. Hard to find a boss that competent—
“Except,” the Bull suddenly roared, “he’s so damn good at his job that he can’t stand when I make mistakes! Every time he looks at me, it’s like he’s asking, ‘How can a toddler fail at this?’! He refuses to admit he’s a freak of nature! I graduated top of my academy class, but every time I stand before him my heart shrivels! He won’t even let me go home! And you know what he says? ‘Incompetent.’ ‘Where did you leave your brain?’ He’s the youngest Chief Justice in history, and he thinks that means he’s God! He’s my age, for crying out loud—what an arrogant bastard!”
The Bull slammed the table and roared like a man possessed.
And in that instant, something clicked in my mind—an image from the Gossip Lady magazine Pinea had shown me.
“Wait. Your boss is…”
The Bull shouted, voice breaking.
“Yes! Duke Vespera Ariadne! That’s my boss!”
…Oh no.
Maybe I should buy another soundproof artifact—just in case.
