Chapter 40
The clerk was sweating nervously as he tried to placate the jewel-laden man.
“Ah, if only I’d known Sir Leo was coming today, I would’ve set some aside. You should’ve let us know in advance… Another customer bought them all earlier.”
“Not even a single box? Not one box at all…?”
“The very last stock just sold out. I’m so sorry.”
“How… how could this happen…….”
The jewel-laden man collapsed weakly onto the floor.
“I ran all the way from the harbor just to buy cookies… Even the heavens are cruel. Why would they put me through such a trial…….”
Raphaella found it amusing that a man would act as though he’d lost the world over mere cookies, but the other customers reacted differently.
When a slender, beautiful man put on such a tragic expression, the atmosphere of the shop—filled mostly with young women—shifted instantly. The beauty mark beneath his left eye even created the illusion of a falling teardrop.
“Oh my, how awful. He must’ve come from far away.”
“He looks like he was really looking forward to it.”
“Just look at those delicate eyelashes… how pitiful.”
“I want to comfort him.”
“M-me too…….”
The murmuring customers’ gazes gradually turned toward the table where Raphaella was sitting.
That was because twelve boxes of cookies, just brought over by another clerk, were neatly stacked beside the table.
With that many, they could at least share one, the looks clearly said. Rosalie, who had been focused on eating her yellow cake, sensed the strange atmosphere and shrank back, glancing around.
Raphaella hooked one leg up on her chair and glared at the crowd.
It was a posture and tone more befitting a ruffian than a noble.
“What are you staring at? Never seen someone with money before?”
At Raphaella’s sharp words, the customers flinched and averted their eyes, but the whispering continued.
“Tch. So greedy.”
“No wonder she looks like that, stuffing herself.”
Laughing loudly enough to be heard, their remarks made Rosalie’s face burn even redder. Raphaella, on the other hand, merely smiled faintly, as if amused—almost bored.
Looking closely, Rosalie wasn’t blushing from embarrassment but trembling with anger. She bit her lower lip, her hand clutching her skirt so tightly it shook.
Meanwhile, the not-so-subtle gossip continued.
“If it were me, I’d be too ashamed to leave the house.”
“That dress looks like it’s about to burst.”
“I wonder if she can even breathe.”
“She must really worship food.”
Finally, Rosalie couldn’t take it anymore and jumped to her feet.
Stomping loudly, she marched over to the table where the loudest speakers sat.
“E-excuse me! Th-that was very rude, so p-please a-apologize!”
“Oh? Are you talking to us right now?”
“I-I heard everything you said. S-so please apologize!”
“What’s with this stutterer? Looks like inferiors flock together quite well.”
The girls who had been speaking the loudest burst into laughter and began openly insulting Rosalie instead.
They chattered back and forth among themselves.
“Judging by her clothes, she’s probably the daughter of some backwater noble. Does she even know who she’s talking to, speaking so rudely?”
“Do you know who this lady is? She’s the young lady of Baron Calle’s merchant family. Someone like you doesn’t get to speak to her.”
A girl who had been lavishly praising the Calle young lady stood up and poked Rosalie’s shoulder with her fan.
“Do you know what happens if you offend her? Lady Calle and I are invited to the imperial ball every year. Want your social life to be over?”
“Oh, stop it. Do you think she’d even understand? We’re just wasting our breath.”
“True. You’re right, my lady. Hoho.”
“P-please apologize! Th-this person is the impe—”
Rosalie stopped herself mid-sentence and bit her lip. Seeing that, the girls sneered.
“Impe—what? You’re not going to say ‘imperial princess,’ are you? You must be insane.”
Rosalie’s tightly clenched lips trembled, but she didn’t lower her glaring eyes.
In her own way, Rosalie was unleashing the fiercest intimidation she could muster—but to others, she looked no more threatening than an angry rabbit.
She had almost introduced Raphaella as a princess, but barely held herself back.
When they first met in the cave, Raphaella could easily have revealed her status and persuaded everyone, yet she hadn’t. Rosalie assumed Raphaella was deliberately hiding her identity. Otherwise, the rude customers before them would already have been thrown in prison for insulting royalty.
And Baron Calle—she had heard of that family often through her father, the local lord. A greedy house, infamous for its scheming.
Thanks to that, the Calle merchant guild had grown quite large. Judging by how arrogantly the daughter strutted around, they must’ve had confidence in both wealth and connections.
“O-one more time. P-please apologize to my sister.”
Still, Rosalie was the daughter of the very lord who governed the land where that merchant lived. Childish as it was, by their own logic, Rosalie ranked higher in noble status.
“This is y-your last chance. Apologize.”
“What nonsense. Not only do you stutter, but you’re stupid too. Can’t you read the situation?”
A small vein throbbed on Raphaella’s forehead as she watched from her seat.
No matter where she went, there were always people like that. She often let it slide. If she destroyed everyone who annoyed her, half the human world would already be gone. Such petty provocations were a boring, all-too-familiar event.
But today, she thought it might be a good opportunity—to see Rosalie’s growth and change. She’d been quietly looking forward to it. Still, the girls’ words were particularly childish and vile, and that pettiness was cutting into young Rosalie.
Raphaella barely restrained herself as her hips twitched, eyes blazing like a ticking time bomb ready to explode.
The girl who had been pushing Rosalie’s shoulder with her fan now tapped her cheek mockingly.
“A greedy money-bragger like your companion, and a stuttering mess like you—what a perfect pair. Some kind of ugly club? Heehee. What do you think, Lady Calle?”
“That’s enough. Talking to people like that only lowers us.”
“Heh, right. What if we catch her stuttering disease?”
Scoffing, the girl brushed off her hands and turned away.
“This is filthy—I can’t use it anymore.” She threw her fan on the floor. “Let’s go, Lady Calle. Let’s buy a new one.”
“I have better fans at home. I’ll give you one.”
“Oh my, thank you!”
Just then, as they were about to leave laughing, someone grabbed the sleeve of the sneering girl.
Rosalie’s hand was still trembling, but her eyes were sharper than before, fixed fiercely on the girl.
“I-I didn’t want to say this because it’s childish, but… d-do you even know who I am?”
Rosalie tried her hardest to sound harsh, but out of habit, polite speech slipped out anyway.
The girl sneered in response.
“Why would I know someone like you? I don’t need to. If your family were worth anything, someone like me—who attends every ball—would know you.”
“E-every year, there are two banquets at Sester Lord’s Castle. D-did you attend the spring banquet?”
This time, Rosalie felt a small thrill at successfully using casual speech, but she had no time to celebrate.
“Of course! A few times when I was younger. If the imperial spring banquet ran late, I’d be busy attending tea parties instead.”
“And y-yet you don’t know me?”
“Hah! Is that what you’re bragging about? Being invited to a lord’s castle? That’s hilarious.”
The girl laughed loudly enough to make everyone uncomfortable, tapping the corner of her eye as she continued boasting.
“You think an invitation to a lord’s castle is impressive? I told you already—my uncle is a capital noble, so I attend the imperial banquet every year. Have you even seen it? The imperial palace, I mean!”
“I-I have.”
“Hmph, liar. You probably just peeked at the gate. There’s no way they’d let someone as insignificant as you inside. I was even invited to Her Highness Crown Princess Setrin’s tea party!”
“…W-what’s your name? I-if you’re from such a great family, s-say it proudly first.”
When Rosalie asked calmly, the girl finally looked slightly flustered.
She had expected Rosalie to be cowed by now—but instead, Rosalie was demanding her lineage.
The girl was used to receiving the best treatment wherever she went in the territory, thanks to sticking close to Lady Calle, the daughter of a powerful merchant family dominating the harbor trade. She endured Lady Calle’s prickly temperament because she enjoyed the privilege.
But today, out of nowhere, some strawberry-haired brat and a fat woman with too much money showed up and stole all the clerks’ attention. Worse, the last fortune cookies went to their table. Lady Calle was already in a foul mood, and just as the girl was trying to appease her, an opportunity arose.
A handsome man’s despair over missing out on cookies shifted the shop’s atmosphere toward that ugly table. The girl seized the moment and fanned the flames. She was just riding the flow—something she’d done countless times before.
She planned to scold them a little and enjoy watching them run off crying. That would at least make Lady Calle ease up on her.
She hadn’t intended for things to escalate this far, but she remained confident. Even without Lady Calle’s wealth, she had never been intimidated in this town.
So she lifted her chin proudly and declared,
“Hmph. My father is the high priest of the one and only Taratius Temple here! I’m his only daughter, Chelsea. Now you tell me who you are—though there’s no way I’d recognize such a pitiful family name.”
“Pfft!!”
Suddenly, a sound like air bursting from someone’s mouth echoed.
Chelsea had been staring straight at Rosalie, so she knew the laugh hadn’t come from her.
Scowling, Chelsea spun around and shouted,
“Who was that?! Who just laughed?!”
