Chapter 26

At a Certain Confectionery Store Things had been in a slight tizzy at the capital lately. The Hero had returned, seemingly back from the dead. Apparently, the story was that the princess had discovered that the Hero was actually still alive while she’d been compiling a record of his deeds, so she went out to find him. The records were extensively made public, revealing the Hero’s roots. They said that he wasn’t the Hero at the beginning, that he took the place of his best friend, who was the original Hero. After overcoming many trials and tribulations, he finally struck down the Demon Lord. The whole thing was published as a book, which became all the rage in the city. They said you couldn’t read it without crying. The rich folks bought the book, while the literate yet penniless folks shared their copies. As for the people with neither money nor literacy, they went to public readings of the book and heard the tale aloud. Because of all that, the Hero’s popularity soared. There were a bunch of people even coming out of the woodwork to say they wanted a guy like him to be king. None of us knew whether the Hero would marry the princess and take the throne, but I was among those who wanted it to happen. After the book took off, there was a massive parade to celebrate the Hero’s triumphant return. It was a huge deal. The Sword Saint, the Holy Maiden, and the Sage all showed up, and even people from other countries came to see what was going on. I watched it as well, but I was too far away from the action to see the Hero’s face clearly. According to the rumors, he was chiseled and handsome. I sure would have liked to see him up close. My father was a skilled confectioner. The store he ran downtown in the capital was a small one, but it was always busy. Given the location, most of his customers were commoners, but nobles occasionally sent their servants to make purchases. I was proud of how, despite being aimed at commonfolk tastes, Dad’s sweets had fans among the nobility. I’d been helping with the store ever since I was little, and over time, I learned how to make confectioneries of my own. These days, my father had even been putting one of my creations on the shelves. Making sweets was surprisingly laborious work. You had to transport heavy ingredients, knead the dough, and then mix that with the ingredients for ages. You could burn yourself, and the whole process made your hands rough and calloused. This was why it was considered a man’s job, but I wanted to be like Dad, so I worked really, really hard to make sweets every morning before the shop opened. Slowly but steadily, I was improving, except my creations didn’t sell well because they didn’t match up to my father’s in terms of presentation or taste. So whenever I looked at the customers, I was always silently praying: Won’t you buy my sweets? Around the time my sweets were added to the wares, we got a new regular at the store. Dad said he was a former Falm Academy student who used to come by over ten years ago but stopped showing up after he graduated. The moment he spotted the young man, Dad sprang out of the kitchen and squeezed him in a hug. “It’s been ages!” Dad said. This was unusual for him; he was a professional and didn’t really show much emotion. But the sight of this person was enough to make him light up in joy. The young man returned the sentiment, saying, “Yeah, it’s been a while,” with a bright smile. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, and he had slightly curly chestnut hair and brown eyes. Going by looks, he was your average male commoner. Dad talked with the guy for a good while, before pushing samples of the store’s entire selection onto him. “Take this! Give ’em all a try!” he urged. Looking a little flustered, the young man attempted to pay, but Dad refused his money. This came as another surprise to me—Dad never gave his sweets away to customers for free. In the end, the young man said, “I’ll be back again,” as he carried a mountain of sweets out the door. Dad told me he was greatly indebted to this person. When I was really young, Dad left a large confectionery store to go independent. He opened a shop aimed at commoners, but nobody came at first. Sweets were luxury items, not really something that commoners ate very often to begin with, so when they did have them, they wanted them to be as delicious as possible. The expectations were high, and they were very difficult to meet. Dad experimented with all kinds of sweets, but nothing seemed to catch on. It was during this low point that the young man appeared, back when he was still a student. He was a strange customer, constantly squinting at the wares while muttering God’s name. He always bought just one thing at a time. Being a student, he didn’t have money for more, and he made his choice after a lot of agonizing. Apparently, the sweets were for his girlfriend, not him. The young man insisted, “She’s not my girlfriend,” but Dad was convinced she was. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be trying so hard. It seemed that this girlfriend was quite a colorful character; she was awful to the young man whenever she didn’t like his presents. She’d hang him from the school roof and use him as a target for her spells, or she’d kick him down a cliff and then kick him again when he was climbing back up. The stories were insane. “How did it go last time?” Dad would ask the young man. “‘No good,’ she said.” Apparently, he and my dad conversed a lot at the time. The young man said he went to other stores as well, but Dad learned how to make sweets that appealed to the girlfriend’s tastes because he felt so bad for the guy. And since this person never ate anything for himself, Dad would give him samples. Why did he hang out with a girl who made him buy her sweets and punished him soundly whenever she didn’t like them? She sounded like an ugly, rotten person. Meanwhile, the confectionery store’s reputation climbed steadily as Dad adapted his sweets to the girl’s liking. The outward presentation improved, and among the vast array of sweets he made, there were some that became a hit with the other customers. Before long, Dad got into the habit of showing the young man his samples and getting him to pick out the best one. The next day, Dad would put the selection on the most prominent display. Thanks to this strategy, his new sweets flew off the shelves practically every week, and the store became very popular. “Our store wouldn’t be where it is today if it wasn’t for that guy and his terrible girlfriend,” Dad said. About a week after I saw him at the store, the guy came back—this time with a girl. She looked like a working woman, what with the glasses on her face and how her pretty blond hair was tied back in a low ponytail. Judging by her appearance, she seemed to be a civil official at the palace or the receptionist at a large merchant house. She was quite pretty on closer inspection. “No way, is that the girl from back then?” Dad whispered to the young man. “Oh, no,” he replied with a laugh. “Good. I’m glad you broke up with that piece of work.” Dad was weeping in relief. The young man put on a stiff smile. Something strange happened soon afterward, though. Another new female customer came in right after the young man left. It was hard to see her face because she had a scarf pulled over it, but when I approached her as a store employee, I could tell she was amazingly beautiful. She had porcelain-white skin and dark, mysterious eyes, and the black hair that was visible from under her scarf looked silky smooth. “There was a customer here a short while ago, yes? The young man with the brown hair. I’d like some of the sweets that he bought. He’s good at picking them, you know,” she said. Faced with her graceful smile, I did exactly as I was told, wrapping up the sweets without suspecting a thing. “Thank you,” she said. After paying and receiving her purchase, the woman made herself scarce, as if she was somewhat self-conscious about the people around her. I watched her vacantly as she left. What a beautiful lady. I was sure that she had a beautiful personality to go with her face. Maybe she hid her face because it was too beautiful. A little while after that, we got another new customer. He was a blond man with a sturdy physique and a neat appearance, all of which screamed knight in bold letters. He was handsome, too, with his firm jawline. He also had a small beard, but that added to the appeal. “So, hmm… This is his favorite store. Za— No, Are— No, the plain-looking guy with slightly curly brown hair. You know who I’m talking about?” That was all the information I needed. Although he was an average person, he left a strong impression in many different ways, so I knew instantly who this customer was referring to. “Yes. The man who has been frequenting this store recently?” I asked. “Yeah, him. Give me what he bought. Whatever’s left of it.” “Um… That’s quite a large quantity. Are you sure?” It was far too much for a single person’s stomach. “It’s no problem. I’m gifting it to my fiancée. I’ve kept her waiting a long time. I need to give her the good stuff,” said the blond man, breaking into a smile. It looked so handsome on him. “Ah, so you have a fiancée.” I felt a tad disappointed. “Don’t expect a glamorous love story. She’s my cousin. We know each other inside out, and she’s the daughter of a man I respected. Honestly, I’m wasted on her.” He gave a slightly bashful laugh. It was heartwarming to see. To think that this upstanding gentleman had such an adorable side, too. I was liking him more by the second. Well, after Mr. Blondie left, a new customer showed up right around closing time. This one wore the purple-hooded robe of a mage. It was rare for mages to stop by confectionery stores. Was it a first for us? When I thought of mages, I pictured them drinking some weird, goopy, green soup instead of sweet things. This particular mage had a high-strung, irritable look on his face. I had to be careful around people like him. They tended to nitpick. I summoned the nerve to speak with him. “Hey, did a plain-looking guy come by today to buy sweets? A guy with slightly curly brown hair. You know him?” he asked curtly. What? This guy, too? That made him the third person to ask about that guy. He looked so ordinary. What did he have to do with a pretty lady, a knight, and a mage? Maybe he was famous for picking out the best sweets. “He did come by, yes…” “Okay. Give me the same sweets he got.” There was no friendliness in the mage’s tone. “I’m sorry. Another customer bought them all…,” I answered very apologetically. I suspected that the mage was about to get angry. “Tch, damn that Leon. This is what I hate about nobles…” The mage frowned, but instead of getting mad at me, he just grumbled under his breath. “Um, we have other sweets at our store…,” I offered. Since my job was to shill our wares, I followed the script even to an annoying-looking customer like him. “Hmph.” The mage gave a slightly disgruntled snort. “I wanted the same thing he ate. But it would be senseless to leave without buying anything. Fine, then. I’ll take a few of what you have left.” What the heck? He was definitely a paying customer, but it was hard to be happy about a fellow who couldn’t keep his comments to himself. The mage picked out some sweets very half-heartedly indeed. My creation was included in his slapped-together selection. Oh dear. What if he doesn’t like the thing I made and blows the shop to smithereens with his magic? In my head, I pictured the mage roaring in laughter as he cast his flames on the shop. It seemed all too plausible. “Um, that sweet there is…” To protect the store from destruction, I tried to stop him from buying my creation. “What? You have a problem with me buying this? Why would you put something on a shelf if you don’t think it’s worth selling?” said the mage, looking genuinely irritated. No shop employee in the world would dare try to make the customer reconsider his purchase after hearing that. Left with no other choice, I told him the price of all his sweets. With a bored expression, the mage pulled the money out of his pocket. I took it reluctantly. “Thank you very much. Please come again soon.” I recited the usual line while hoping he never showed his face again. Another week went by, and the famed (?) sweets connoisseur visited again. He came with the bespectacled lady, just like last time. Dad sprang out of the kitchen and started chatting with the man about sweets. The fellow wasn’t very good at explaining things in words, but I found it endearing how hard he tried to get across what he liked about them. Then the lady said to me, “I enjoyed your sweets very much. My mother said they were delightful.” “I’m glad to hear that. It sounds like you and your mother get along.” “Is that how it sounds? Actually, there was a long period where we never saw each other. We did meet once a little while ago, but then she shut herself in her room, and it was hard to reconnect. That’s when he and I forced open her door.” The woman gazed fondly at the man. He went on chatting with Dad, completely oblivious. “Was that…a lot of, uh, trouble?” I asked. Her family situation sounded kind of complicated. It made me hesitant to inquire further. “Yes, it sure was. But then when he gave her some sweets to eat, she silently chewed them and blurted out, ‘This tastes nice.’ That helped break the ice between us. So I’m planning to buy more today as a gift for her.” The lady looked very happy about what she said. I had to hand it to the sweets connoisseur. Who would have thought confections could bring people happiness? Once again, the beautiful lady came by straight after the man left. Predictably, she bought the same thing he did. Later on, Mr. Blondie came in and swooped up all the remainders. Last was the mage. He showed up at closing time again. “Is it sold out again?” The mage was disappointed. He looked as disgruntled as ever. Come earlier if you feel that strongly about it, I thought. The mage must have seen into my mind because he shot me a glare. “Oh well. I’ll take some of whatever’s left again.” This fellow really didn’t need to verbalize every thought in his head. But hey, he didn’t complain about the last batch he bought, and he didn’t spontaneously chant a curse, so maybe he actually liked it? “I’ll have that, that, and that. Oh, and some of this, too.” The mage picked the sweets offhandedly, and one of my creations ended up in the pile again. Was it too much to hope that he liked it? I definitely couldn’t ask him for his thoughts, though, because I got the impression that he’d bite my head off. The same pattern repeated every week, many times over. The sweets connoisseur said that the pretty lady, the blond guy, and the mage were his close friends. When I asked him why they didn’t all come together, he said that everyone was busy with their lives, so it was hard to coordinate. But was that really the case? Maybe I could buy that about Mr. Blondie and the mage, but the pretty lady always came in straight after him—as if she was following him around. I was about to mention this when I felt a cold tingle run down my spine. I felt as if I was being watched. Nervously, I peered out the store’s window, and standing right there was the pretty lady. Smiling. I’m gonna have nightmares from this. I held my tongue. I wasn’t going to overstep my bounds with the customers. For my own sake, just as much as theirs. The last customer of the day was the mage. As usual, he asked about the sold-out goods and picked out some leftovers, which happened to include the sweets I made. His choices were random, but he always consistently picked one of my creations. Maybe he liked my sweets after all? “You always buy that item. Do you like the taste of it?” I mustered the courage to ask. “It’s awful.” I shouldn’t have asked. I knew it; this mage guy sucked. “You’re the one making these, right?” he said with a smile. What a jerk. He knew that I made those sweets, and he still said it sucked. “Well, yes…” “The sweets you make are the only ones that look different from the others. I can tell the love you put into them by sight.” He had a keen eye—not surprising for a mage. “Why are you always buying them if you think they taste bad?” I asked peevishly. “Hmph. The other sweets have a polished flavor. But there’s value in unfinished work. I can tell your improvement from the taste. I enjoy the process, I suppose you could say. I learned the value of such things from my friend.” By “friend,” was he talking about the sweets connoisseur? The mage looked at me. “Of course, that improvement comes from your hard work. That’s why I buy your sweets every week. If you didn’t put in the effort, I wouldn’t buy it. Aim high and don’t worry about failure. I’ll be there to buy your stuff.” With that, the mage paid for his purchase and left. He was so unfair. That spell he cast was completely uncalled for. I could tell my face was burning red.