Chapter 120
The Dessert Shop (4)
“Opening a shop all of a sudden? Don’t tell me Ruan isn’t giving you any money.”
Olivia asked as she brought out the tea, along with the egg tarts Marican had bought.
Marican smiled softly.
“Of course not, Aunt. In fact, he gives me more than enough. It’s not about the money—I just enjoy seeing people happy when they eat what I make. Running a shop wasn’t always easy, but it brought me a lot of joy too. Still, I plan to donate all the shop’s profits. Ruan agreed without hesitation, but I thought I should still get your permission.”
Olivia chuckled, glancing down at the tart in her hand.
“So this egg tart was a bribe, wasn’t it? I was wondering why you brought so many today.”
Marican laughed. “Aunt, that’s not it.”
“Well, it’s good to have something you want to do. If it makes you happy, go ahead. Just promise me you won’t push yourself too hard.”
Marican’s chest warmed at Olivia’s gentle tone.
“Thank you for worrying, Aunt. I won’t overdo it. I only plan to make sandwiches in the morning before returning to the mansion. The sales will be handled by the staff.”
“That’s a good idea. Have you already found a place? I heard one of our trading houses has a shop available—were you thinking of using that one?”
“No, that tenant decided to extend their lease. But I was lucky enough to find a really good location.”
“That’s wonderful. If you ever need help or run into trouble, you just let me know.”
Marican’s smile deepened. “Your words alone mean a lot, Aunt.”
Olivia grinned mischievously. “Well then, since you’ve bribed me so successfully, I suppose I can eat this tart guilt-free.”
She popped the tart into her mouth, smiling contentedly.
***
“Is everything going well with the shop preparations?”
Ruan asked later that evening as they sat together in the garden after dinner, sipping tea.
“It’s going smoothly. The place was already a dessert shop before, so there wasn’t much to fix. I just rearranged the tables, bought a few more utensils for the kitchen, and had the servants clean it thoroughly.”
“That’s good. If you need my help with anything, just tell me. I’ll help anytime.”
Marican couldn’t help but laugh at that.
“What’s so funny?” Ruan asked, puzzled.
“Sorry,” she said between chuckles. “It’s just that everyone keeps telling me that lately. My aunt, the Crown Princess, even Zelda. Now you too—if I asked for help, I’d have to line you all up.”
Ruan frowned.
“So I’d have to stand in line just to help my own wife?”
“Haha, I guess you’d be fourth,” she teased.
“That’s unacceptable.”
“What?”
“I’m your husband by law. That automatically makes me first in line.”
Marican smiled at his dead-serious expression.
“Of course. You’ll always be first for me.”
Ruan’s expression softened, a satisfied smile curving his lips.
He’s… kind of adorable when he’s like this, Marican thought with a faint blush.
“By the way,” she continued, “while fixing up the shop, I found out we were right.”
“About the illegal taxes?”
“Yes. The other merchants kept quiet about it, but by chance, I met the shop’s former owner.”
“The former owner?”
She nodded. “Just as you suspected, he shut down his business and left for the countryside because of the taxes Paulo was collecting.”
“Taxes…” Ruan murmured.
“The amount was shocking. Normally, shopkeepers in the capital pay ten percent of their profits to the Empire. But under the pretext of controlling shop numbers and stabilizing income, Paulo was taking an additional twenty percent.”
“Twenty percent?”
Ruan’s face hardened.
Ever since Kymon’s death, he had received reports that Dominic was investigating economic disruptions in the capital—but this was worse than he’d thought.
“And all of that money,” Marican added, “goes straight to the Marquis of Rephide’s household.”
“I knew it.”
They’re collecting more than the Empire itself? What on earth is that marquis thinking?
Marican tugged the bell cord, and Charles entered the garden.
“Yes, Madam?”
“Charles, please bring the documents from my study desk.”
“Yes, right away.”
When Charles returned, Marican handed the papers to Ruan.
“These were given to me by the previous shop owner. It’s a record of all the money he paid Paulo over the past year. The list on the back includes merchants who also left because of his extortion. I thought it might help with your investigation.”
Ruan nodded, then rang for Edward to take the documents to his study.
“Thank you, my lady. This will be very useful. Now,” he said with a teasing smile, “shall we continue our conversation?”
“Our conversation?”
“Yes, a marital conversation—the kind that doesn’t require words.”
“What?”
Before Marican could react, Ruan scooped her into his arms and carried her inside.
***
At the same time, in Paulo’s shop.
“So you’re really planning to destroy the shop across the street, brother?” James asked in a low, uneasy voice.
He wasn’t easily rattled—he’d threatened and bribed merchants before to control competition—but this time was different. The other party was the House of Canoloup.
The Rephide Marquisate might be connected to the Imperial family, but the Canoloup Duchy was firmly aligned with the Crown Prince. They were not people to trifle with.
“Think about it, James,” Paulo said, his tone sharp. “If the Duchess opens a dessert shop, do you think we’ll be able to keep collecting taxes from the others? And if anyone dares mention those taxes to her, we’re all as good as dead.”
James hesitated. “You’re right… but if this goes wrong, what then? We’re talking about the Duke and Duchess of Canoloup.”
“Relax. I’ve already prepared everything. The building’s still under renovation—lots of dust, plenty of debris. You know how it is—sometimes vagrants sneak into empty shops to light a fire for warmth, and accidents happen. Who could we possibly blame if such a ‘fire’ broke out there?”
James’s eyes widened. “Brother, that’s brilliant! And come to think of it, there was a fire in an empty shop nearby last week. But… won’t security be tighter because of that?”
“Don’t worry,” Paulo said coldly. “That night, the patrol won’t be anywhere near this area.”
“What?”
“Just find out when their renovations are finished. That’s all I need from you.”
“Understood, brother.”
After James left, Paulo stood by the window, staring across at the dark, unlit shop.
He had been born into a branch family of the Rephide Marquisate, but his life had been poorer than a commoner’s.
An incompetent father who clung to his useless noble title had left them starving.
It was Dominic who had pulled him out of that hell.
Since then, Paulo had learned the intoxicating taste of money and power through collecting those “taxes.”
There’s no way I’m letting that duchess ruin everything I built.
He clenched his fists.
***
The renovations that were supposed to take two weeks finished three days early, thanks to the Canoloup servants who worked tirelessly, proud to be handling their lady’s shop.
“Wow, my lady, it’s beautiful!” Charles exclaimed, his eyes wide as he looked around.
The once plain white walls had been painted a soft pink, and the kitchen walls were torn down so customers could see everything inside.
“With the kitchen in plain view, it feels trustworthy—and the shop looks so much more spacious,” he said.
“Exactly,” Marican replied with satisfaction. “People can watch the cookies bake in that big central oven—it’s more engaging that way.”
“When will we open?”
“The construction finished yesterday, but I still need to buy ingredients and prepare. I plan to open on the original date I set.”
“Oh, what’s the shop’s name?”
Before she could answer, Cat and Elena entered the shop.
“Oh! Cat, Elena—welcome!”
Cat set down the bundles she carried and glanced around.
“Wow, just changing the wall color makes it feel completely different. It’s so elegant and pretty!”
“Right? What do you think, Elena?”
Elena, who had been inspecting the kitchen, looked astonished.
“You’re really going to leave the kitchen open like this?”
“Mm-hm. It has two advantages. First, transparency—people will trust the food more if they can see everything. And second, the open space connects the whole shop, making it look much larger.”
“That’s true,” Elena admitted, nodding as she checked the utensils.
Marican handed Charles a short list.
“Charles, these are the only supplies we still need.”
“Yes, my lady.”
After he left, Marican turned to the two women.
“Our business hours will be from ten in the morning until three in the afternoon.”
“That short?” Cat blinked.
“Yes. It gets quite warm here in the afternoons, and sandwiches could spoil easily. So I’ll make exactly fifty each day—no more.”
“Only fifty?”
“Yes. That’s enough to sell out by noon. Elena, you’ll bake cookies four times a day, no extras. The limited quantity will make people want them even more. After three, the shop closes, and you can both use the rest of the day for yourselves. Once things settle, we’ll add cakes and other desserts. How does that sound?”
“That’s a wonderful plan, my lady,” Elena said, clearly impressed.
“Good. Then, Elena—start by baking a test batch of cookies. Cat, help me with the sandwiches.”
“Yes, ma’am—oh wait, boss.”
“Boss?” Marican laughed.
“Well, since we’ve opened a shop, I should call you that. You did hire me as a sales clerk.”
Marican smiled. “All right then—call me whatever you like, Cat.”
While Elena and Cat organized their supplies and started baking, Marican prepared the sandwiches with the ingredients Charles brought back.
Two days later, the capital’s newspaper featured a story about the new shop owned by the Duchess of Canoloup.
The public buzzed with curiosity about a noblewoman opening a shop—and about how she personally made the sandwiches herself.
But on the eve of the grand opening, as a cold wind swept through the quiet streets, three shadowy figures approached the front of Marican’s store.
“This is the place, right?” one of the ragged men whispered.
Another pulled out a small notebook and squinted at a crude map.
“Yeah… this is it. Let’s get started.”
He gathered dry branches from the street, stacked them by the shop door—
—and struck a flame.
