Chapter 33
“The Empress definitely said it when she was talking to that man. ‘Pay me a lot of money. When Ferdinand becomes Emperor, I will never forget it.’ That’s what she said.”
Caylen stood up. When the chair scraped loudly behind him, Adam shouted that he was telling nothing but the truth and begged for his life.
“It’s absolutely not a lie! If I get kicked out of here, I’ll really die out there! I want to live. Please let me live.”
The end of a concubine who had once been loved for his handsome face was truly miserable. Caylen looked down at Adam, who was drowning in fear of death, and spoke.
“Don’t do anything foolish here. Otherwise, you’ll regret it when you end up dying by the Empress’s hand.”
“Th-thank you! Thank you!”
Leaving Adam’s desperate gratitude behind, Caylen quickly walked up the stairs of the underground prison. Caspian followed right after him.
“Do you think we can trust him?”
“Probably. Even if he lies, it’ll be exposed quickly. He doesn’t seem like the kind of complete fool who would cut his last lifeline with his own hands.”
Caspian nodded.
Just as Caylen stepped up into the warmer area, Dillon rushed into the knights’ lounge.
“What’s going on?”
Because he had come in from the cold, Dillon’s glasses fogged white. He quickly removed them and wiped them with his clothes.
“You have the list of mines the Empress owns, right?”
“Sorry? Ah, yes. I have it.”
“The distribution routes of the topaz from those mines?”
“Yes, I have that too.”
“Good.”
Passing the tense Dillon, Caylen opened the door to the knights’ lounge.
Cutting through the cold air of Winterford, he walked straight into the fortress and toward his office.
The Empress needs money. And not just a little — a lot.
Caylen’s eyes shone sharply.
Winterford Castle — beautiful on the outside, rotten on the inside. While thinking about how to use the north side of the castle, which had been abandoned due to lack of funds, the idea came to me: what if we produced Winterford’s traditional liquor, Kissity?
To get advice on how to make it — and to thank the chef who always cooked delicious food despite the tight budget — I headed to the kitchen.
Loud giggles leaked through the thick wooden door.
When I opened it, someone I never expected was there.
What is he doing here at this hour?
“Haha! So that’s what happened!”
The kitchen was filled with Isaiah’s laughter, warm like spring.
“Oh—Grand Duchess.”
One of the servants noticed me first. The group sitting around Isaiah immediately stood up and bowed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, Isaiah-nim was telling us a funny story.”
Isaiah?
I turned toward Isaiah, who was trying to quietly shuffle away.
“It’s nothing.”
His face stiffened as he shook his head.
When I first met him, he used to smile slyly and talk easily. But ever since he signed the lodging contract, every time he saw me, our precious guest looked like this — awkward and trying to run.
I was about to say something to him when a sweet, buttery smell suddenly hit my nose.
“What’s that smell?”
At my words, the chef jumped in surprise and hurried to the oven. She quickly pulled something out and sighed in relief.
“I baked some since it’s been a while since we had a guest in the kitchen… Would you like to try some, Grand Duchess?”
On her tray were warm, freshly baked brown loaves. I nodded.
Knowing how delicious the Winterford chef’s fresh bread was, I swallowed my saliva and took a seat.
Isaiah also sat down farther away from me, as if keeping safe distance.
The chef of Winterford was a strong woman in her 40s. People called her Dudu. No one knew her real name.
Dudu was very popular among the staff — cheerful, optimistic, and above all, an excellent cook.
When I first came to Winterford and checked the castle’s financial state, after Benjamin, the person with the most unpaid wages was Dudu.
I once asked her why she didn’t leave Winterford.
“The weather is cold, but nowhere are the people as warm as here.”
Her bread today was delicious as always — crispy outside, soft inside, buttery and fragrant.
“Huh? There’s something inside!”
After a few bites, I tasted a sweet and tangy flavor.
“It’s a bread you can only find in Winterford. We dry Winterberries — the berry that grows here in summer — or make them into jam and stuff them inside bread.”
Dudu smiled, her bright white teeth gleaming.
I had seen Winterberries at the banquet before — purple fruits shaped like raspberries, growing wild in Winterford. In seemingly endless winter, once warm wind arrived, sprouts grew, flowers bloomed, and fruits formed.
Winterberries only grew during Winterford’s short three-month summer.
Winterford was a charming place. The people, though cold and poor in environment, knew how to enjoy life with limited resources.
As the jam’s sweetness spread through my mouth, I could understand a little why Dudu chose to stay.
Even Isaiah, who had pitied Caylen for eating such simple meals before, nodded as he sucked the jam from his fingers.
“Is it good?”
“Cough—! Khh…!”
He stuffed another piece of bread into his mouth too fast and started choking.
“Oh dear. The bread must’ve gone down wrong.”
Dudu handed him a cup of Kissity with ice floating in it.
“Drink this. Whenever I get indigestion, this clears everything right up.”
Isaiah gulped down the cool Kissity. Then Dudu clapped her hands as if remembering something.
“Oh right! Grand Duchess — I heard you’re planning to brew Kissity?”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
“Oh! I—I said it! Grand Duchess!”
Mia, who came with me, put down her bread and shot her hand up.
She said she had asked Dudu because she remembered I was studying how to brew Kissity lately — and because Dudu seemed to know everything about food and drink. Mia giggled.
Perfect timing. I nodded and asked Dudu:
“Are all the Kissity jars in the castle made by you?”
“Some are mine, and some aren’t.”
Dudu wiped her hands on a white cloth, then went into a storage room. She came out with two bottles.
“One is from before I started working here, and one is the one I made.”
Would you like to taste them? Her offer was irresistible.
I nodded eagerly. Isaiah, who had been sitting far, scooted closer to me.
Two empty cups were placed in front of each of us. One was filled with the old Kissity, the other with Dudu’s.
“The color is different.”
“Yes. The aging period plays a part… but please try the taste first.”
I slowly swirled the cup and smelled the aroma, then tasted it.
“Hm?”
My eyes widened. Dudu grinned and nodded.
“The taste is completely different. It doesn’t even feel like the same drink.”
Isaiah sniffed his cup.
“Yes. Even though the ingredients were exactly the same, I wondered for a long time what caused the difference. And I finally found the answer.”
Dudu looked between us with bright eyes, then shrugged.
“It’s the oak barrel. Depending on what kind of oak tree the barrel is made from — from which region — the taste changes completely.”
Both were good, but the old Winterford Kissity had an aroma I preferred.
“If you ever plan to brew it, I thought it might help.”
She planted her fists on her hips and laughed heartily. From hiring someone to brew it, to ingredients, to barrels — I would need Dudu’s help with everything.
My mind started to race with ideas. I thanked Dudu, drank the rest of my Kissity, and left the kitchen.
“May I ask you something?”
Isaiah, who had quietly followed me out at some point, spoke while keeping a safe distance.
