Chapter 14
The news of Aunt Agne’s imprisonment brought a sense of relief, though mixed with complex feelings.
“We’ve been ordered to receive compensation, but you know, right? That woman was divorced. She probably doesn’t even have enough money to survive herself, let alone money to give us, Antonion.”
After the affair with Director Arnold was exposed, Aunt Agne was immediately divorced.
Since the cause of the divorce was entirely Agne’s fault, she didn’t receive any alimony and was thrown out.
“So then…”
“Yeah, we’re not getting any money.”
Forget about the settlement; even the compensation ordered by the court was out of reach.
Since she couldn’t fulfill the court’s orders, her sentence would likely increase.
“The real problem is still money.”
Ceres’s gaze fell on the debt notice.
Seeing this, Antonion’s voice turned somber.
“So, we’ll have to sell the shop, right?”
Though they had managed to cover Yulia’s treatment expenses for the time being, they hadn’t actually solved anything.
Antonion was well aware that the debt remained as overwhelming as ever.
But…
“Even selling the shop won’t solve all of this debt, will it?”
Ceres nodded silently.
Wasn’t the shop located in the city center?
If they sold it, they’d get a significant amount, but it still wouldn’t be enough to clear all their debts.
“Well then…”
Ceres stood up from her seat.
“Where did you say the shop was?”
***
“Two stews over here.”
“I’ll have a large one.”
“Me too!”
On Delsi Street No. 1, the heart of the capital.
Lined with bright, luxurious shops, it was a feast for the eyes. There was even a saying: if you want to know the empire’s latest trends, go to Delsi Street No. 1.
Among the glamorous shops, there was one that stood out.
A small, shabby building, squeezed between spotless, high-end buildings.
A stew shop that drew disapproving looks from the neighboring shop owners.
“Where Your Feets Rest”
The shop sign’s name was quite poetic.
But…
“Damn, my stomach’s churning…”
“Didn’t I tell you to drink less, you idiot?”
“Hey, that’s mine! Get lost, dammit!”
“Oh yeah? A brat like you thinks he can cut in line? Try it, and we’ll see who’s left standing.”
All you could hear inside were rough voices.
Swearing was constant, and scuffles broke out frequently.
That’s right. Most of the customers here were mercenaries.
“Aaah, this taste hits the spot!”
“I drank so much yesterday just to come here and eat this.”
The shop only sold one item.
Meat and vegetable stew.
From early morning, customers flocked to the shop just to eat this.
Some came to cure their hangovers, others to fill their empty stomachs.
A hot bowl of stew. Most of the patrons who came for this were regulars.
For many, it had been at least five years, and some had been coming for over 20 years without missing a single day.
The stew shop, “Where Your Steps Rest,” was always lively with mercenaries looking to enjoy their soul food.
“Is anyone serving stew here?”
“Yes, yes!”
A man in his late twenties was moving nervously amidst the rough atmosphere filled with shouting and aggressive language.
This man was Mark, the head chef and the only staff member of this shop.
Crash!
“You little shit! What did you just say?”
“What, you scared? Did I say something wrong?”
Mark, who was just stepping out of the kitchen with food, turned pale at the sight of yet another fight breaking out among the customers.
‘It’s starting again!’
Fights between customers happened so frequently that instead of getting used to it, his fear only kept growing.
“Hey! Damn it! Who spilled blood into my stew? Was it you?!”
“Did you get hit in the head? Why the hell are you accusing people randomly, you bastard!”
The fight that started with two people soon involved other patrons, and the entire restaurant turned into a chaotic mess.
Trembling, Mark crouched in a corner as always, waiting for the fight to end, unable to intervene or escape.
The one bit of relief was that these regulars would at least pay for the damage they caused before leaving.
‘Sigh.’
Because of this constant fighting, it was impossible to hire other staff. Running the place alone was exhausting and clearly too much work for one person…
‘I’m sorry! I can’t do this anymore!’
‘I’m quitting! Those people are terrifying!’
‘Ahhh! I can’t work here any longer!’
Most people didn’t last even half a day before they quit.
In the end, Mark had been holding down the fort alone for years.
‘Lord Galen…’
Mark wiped away a tear, thinking of the late Baron Drow.
The kind man who had offered him a warm bowl of stew for free when he had collapsed outside, starving and with nowhere to go.
It was Baron Galen Drow who had taught him everything about running a restaurant.
Knowing Mark’s desperate situation, he even provided him a room to stay in and a salary much higher than the average rate.
Out of gratitude, Mark had stayed to keep the shop running after the baron and his wife passed away in an accident.
‘And now Miss Yulia is sick too.’
The worsening state of the baron’s family since Lord Galen’s death was also one reason why Mark couldn’t leave.
He wanted to help support the young ladies and the young master however he could.
But…
Crash!
“You bastard!”
“Hey! Grab that guy!”
…with fights breaking out every single day like this, even Mark didn’t know how much longer he could endure.
As swords clashed and objects flew across the shop, Mark crouched down even further.
Was it just his imagination, or was this fight lasting unusually long today?
“What a complete mess.”
“…?”
Just then, amidst his trembling and waiting for the fight to end, a young woman’s voice reached Mark’s ears.
It was a voice he had never heard before in this rough place, usually filled with mercenaries.
“Who…?”
Raising his head slightly, Mark saw a woman standing nearby, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold.
“Huh?”
As he squinted to get a better look, his eyes widened.
“M-Miss Ceres?”
He’d only seen her once before, but how could he forget that face?
The same striking platinum blonde hair, and those captivating violet eyes.
Yet, he hadn’t recognized her right away because her aura had changed completely.
‘Something…’
Years ago, when she had first come to the shop holding her parents’ hands, Ceres had been a timid child, constantly looking around nervously.
Her gaze always seemed so fragile, as if she might burst into tears at any moment, and even the rowdy mercenaries had adjusted their behavior around her.
But now?
“Hey.”
“Y-Yes?”
At Ceres’s call, Mark jumped up without realizing it.
“Hand me that.”
“Pardon?”
He was momentarily confused but then realized that Ceres was pointing at the tray he was holding.
Why would she need a tray all of a sudden?
Was she planning to serve food in the middle of this chaos?
“Uh, Miss Ceres, I think you should step back for now…!”
Before Mark could finish, Ceres snatched the tray from his hands. After testing its weight and balance for a moment, she threw it with all her might.
“Huh, huh?!”
To Mark’s surprise, instead of falling midway, the tray maintained its speed and hit one of the brawling mercenaries squarely on the back of the head.
Thunk!
“Gah!”
The mercenary who got hit slumped to the ground, foaming at the mouth, as if she’d struck a critical point.
“…!”
The mercenary’s opponent paused, and silence filled the shop.
In the stunned moment, everyone turned toward where the tray had come from.
There, standing with her arms crossed, was Ceres, completely unfazed. The mercenaries’ expressions grew even more bewildered.
Who was this woman?
Ignoring their stares, Ceres extended her hand toward Mark.
—
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