Chapter 34
Still, Cecil spoke in a clear, unwavering voice.
“I’m looking for a commercial building to rent. I plan to open a general store. It doesn’t have to be big, but I want it to be clean. Somewhere with a lot of foot traffic.”
“Oh my, how cute. Little miss, this isn’t a playground for kids—it’s a place where adults work. Do you know what a real estate agency is? Re-al-est-ate.”
‘It’s been a while since someone treated me like this. Guess I’ve been walking around as an adult for too long.’
Despite the rude response, Cecil didn’t even flinch.
“I’m not here to play. My name is Cecilia Winona Lyn Obedian, the 17th Princess of the Empire.”
Once she revealed her identity, the owner finally seemed to realize she wasn’t an ordinary eight-year-old.
But that didn’t mean his attitude suddenly became polite.
“Oh! So that’s who you are, little miss. You’re the famous 17th Princess. But what a pity. The properties we handle here might be a bit pricey for someone like you. Isn’t that right, guys?”
“Oh, absolutely. Maybe if you were one of the Emperor’s more… prominent children, but the 17th Princess?”
The other employees, who had been doing chores, chuckled and chimed in mockingly.
Nibelung fumed at their rudeness.
[What insufferable humans! Wouldn’t a little magic punishment be justified for this lot?]
‘What for? This will all be over soon anyway.’
Cecil raised the corners of her lips calmly, showing no sign of offense.
Just as the skeptical owner was about to speak again—
Bang!
The door to the agency swung open. A massive, shadowy figure stood in the doorway.
His shoulders were as broad as a mountain, and the bulging veins on his forearms looked capable of felling an ox.
Against the harsh summer backlight, only his eyes shone fiercely from the dark.
Tension filled the agency.
The owner, sensing the shift, got up to greet the visitor.
“Is something the matter, Miss Cecil?”
Every time Hans spoke, the large scar across his lips twitched slightly.
“Did these men dare behave rudely toward you?”
Moments later—
“H-hahaha… I sincerely apologize for the offense, Your Highness.”
The real estate owner’s laughter had lost all life.
His face had gone pale, and he respectfully folded both hands over his belly.
“I’ve heard much about Your Highness. Your reputation for intelligence far exceeds your age. I must’ve forgotten myself for a moment…”
‘What reputation? More like the infamous “Lost Cause Cecil.”’
Cecil thought wryly as she picked up a biscuit the employees had offered.
Crunch. The crisp sound of it breaking was oddly satisfying.
In stark contrast to the earlier disrespect, they were now receiving the utmost hospitality.
Cecil and Hans sat on the agency’s best sofa, each attended by an employee—one fanning Cecil, another massaging Hans’ shoulders.
On the table before them were cool teas and sweet treats, and beside it, a towering pile of documents.
“These are all the properties we have that meet your conditions. I hope one of them suits you. Truly…”
The owner bowed deeply while watching Cecil sift through the papers and Hans glowering beside her.
In truth, Hans wasn’t trying to be intimidating—he just wasn’t used to such attention, and so sat stiffly.
But the more respectfully the staff treated him, the scarier his expression became.
And the scarier his expression, the more terrified the staff became, which led them to treat him even more respectfully.
It was an endless vicious cycle.
‘Well, it works in my favor.’
Cecil’s eyes landed on one particular listing.
“This one looks good.”
“13 Roselia Street! An excellent choice, indeed. Your eye for quality is extraordinary!”
“I’ll decide after seeing it in person, of course. But if I go with this place, how much would your agency fee be?”
“Well, that’s… uh…”
The owner glanced at Hans, whose face looked even more fearsome than before.
“We’re running a special! We’ll offer it at 50% of the usual fee!”
At that moment, Hans felt an itch in his nose.
But sneezing in front of so many people was embarrassing, so he decided to hold it in.
In doing so, his face contorted, and his nostrils flared ominously.
To the staff and owner, who didn’t know why, it looked like a life-threatening glare.
“…33%! We’ll reduce the fee to 33%!”
The owner shouted in panic. Cecil nodded, satisfied.
“And could you also speak to the landlord and see if we could adjust the monthly rent to match this?”
She handed the owner a note with a few scribbled numbers. His eyes widened as he read it.
“You want this place at these terms? Are you serious?!”
“Yes.”
“B-but how…?”
Cecil smiled sweetly—an angelic face, but to the owner, more like a devil’s.
“I’m just a little girl. I wouldn’t know the details of things like that… That’s what real estate agents are for, right?”
The owner groaned in agony.
“I… I’ll do my best.”
Cecil gave him a bright smile of encouragement and went back to enjoying her snacks.
* * *
On the way back to the Duke’s estate, Hans asked,
“Do you really think the agent will succeed in what you asked him to do?”
Cecil looked out the window cheerfully and replied,
“I know it’s a bit much to expect him to match those conditions. But that was more of a threat to make sure he doesn’t underestimate me. Honestly, I’m already satisfied just getting the fee reduced.”
“I see.”
Though she didn’t look at him directly, Cecil could feel Hans gazing at her with admiration and respect.
‘Hans doesn’t ask too many questions. Like where a minor princess like me even got the money to rent a building in the first place.’
He was a loyal and discreet servant. Cecil found that quite comforting.
‘But if it were the Duke… he’d never let something like that slide.’
The overly cautious and sharp-eyed Duke would surely pry into every detail about where she got the funds.
Selling mayonnaise could be explained. But the compensation from Count O’Neill or the money from selling tulips? Those were suspicious sources without a clear explanation.
Cecil didn’t want to be forced to explain those to the Duke.
‘No matter what, I have to keep the business secret from him.’
She firmly resolved herself.
* * *
“I hear you’ve been visiting the kitchen quite often these days.”
At the Duke Bartholomew’s unexpected comment, Cecil turned to him.
“Have you become close with the head chef?”
Cecil knew it might look strange—an eight-year-old princess befriending a burly chef who looked like a bandit boss.
So she gave the answer she had prepared in advance.
“As you know, I really enjoy cooking. So I’ve been learning from Hans as a hobby. He looks scary, but he’s actually very kind and a great cook.”
The Duke was already aware of Cecil’s love for cooking. After all, she’d prepared snacks for him during work several times.
‘That should do it. Just a normal, innocent kid who loves cooking.’
Cecil felt confident in her answer, but still gauged his reaction.
The Duke didn’t reply right away. He seemed deep in thought, his eyebrows knit slightly closer together.
His facial expressions were so minimal that even Cecil, a master of reading people, found him hard to read.
“I see.”
He finally gave a short reply.
The two of them stopped in front of a certain room in the estate.
“This is it.”
The Duke personally opened the door for her.
“This is the room where you’ll be taking your lessons from now on.”
And beyond the door he opened—
a man was waiting for her.
