The Villainess Builds a Department Store - Chapter 8

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Villainess Establishes a Department Store

Chapter 8

“Wow. There are really so many people…!”

Come to think of it, this was Antoine’s first time coming to the market.

Antoine was completely glued to the carriage window, continuously letting out exclamations of “wow” and “whoa.”

“Fish! Fresh fish! We have fresh shellfish too!”

“Buy flowers! Monsieur, please buy just one flower!”

“Is this old man crazy? Telling me to pay this much for such wilted carrots?”

“Ah, if you’re not buying, get lost!”

Oh my, the rough language and profanity from people haggling didn’t seem like it would be a good influence on Antoine.

I hurriedly pulled Antoine away from the window.

Compared to here, Riere had proper stores and a set clientele, making it a much cleaner and more comfortable place.

‘When I realized our family had fallen and we could no longer shop at Riere, it felt like the world was collapsing…’

Thinking about it now, it was the tantrum of an immature hothouse flower. Riere doesn’t even have bonus deals or clearance sales!

After passing through Riforme Street’s market, the carriage stopped at the entrance to Riere Street and the door opened.

As Antoine and I got out with Uncle Guillaume’s escort, we were first greeted by an enchanting smell.

“The smell of bread!”

“Bread is also made by the guilds.”

“Why?”

“If someone without permission makes it and people get stomach aches or get cheated on prices, it would be a big problem, right?”

“Hehe… I want to eat bread.”

Half-listening to my explanation, Antoine tugged on my hand.

Then, not even taking three steps, he stopped and let out an exclamation from deep within his belly.

“Wowwww…!”

We’ve finally arrived.

The place we came to was a shop selling toys made by guild artisans.

Not wooden swords roughly carved by rural farmers as a side job, but smooth wooden swords that could actually be used for training.

Dolls with porcelain bodies and arms and legs plumply stuffed with cotton instead of straw.

And for those dolls, tiny silk dresses and shoes, gloves, bags, even cosmetics.

A set of tin soldiers caught Antoine’s attention. Behind Antoine, who rushed out eagerly, a rocking horse swayed.

“Now, choose to your heart’s content.”

Uncle Guillaume rubbed his hands together with a face full of anticipation.

Then he instantly disappeared into the shop following Antoine.

Somehow the adult seems more excited than the child…?

But what I was looking for wasn’t in this shop.

I should pretend to browse around casually and then sneak out.

That’s when it happened.

“That damn brat! Hey! Stop right there! Thief! Thief! Catch that thief!”

A crashing sound came from the bakery, followed by an extremely angry shout.

“Get out of the way! Move aside!”

And someone came running, pushing aside the neatly dressed pedestrians left and right.

Old and shabby clothes, shoes with soles so worn that toes poked through, a face stained with grime and soot, and hair whose original color was hard to discern.

And bright red eyes that shone like blood.

The moment I saw those eyes, I recognized the boy’s identity.

“Bastian…?”

“Hey! Move!”

Why are you appearing here and now?

I stood there dazed from shock, and a beat too late, I realized what he had shouted and let out a scream.

“Ahhh!”

But it was already too late.

Bang!

Stars twinkled before my eyes. My back and the back of my head throbbed from falling to the ground, bringing tears to my eyes.

Among the fuss of people worrying about me, a clear voice that hadn’t even reached puberty yet spat out crude curses.

“I told you to move!”

Bastian, who had also fallen after colliding with me, seemed to have taken a big impact from his momentum and groaned, unable to get up easily.

“Got you! You little bastard, can’t you get up right now?”

“Ugh!”

The baker who had followed grabbed Bastian by the collar and pulled him up, swinging a rolling pin like a club.

Then he mercilessly slapped the boy’s cheek.

Smack!

For a moment I wondered what I had just witnessed. What are you doing to a child!

However, Bastian never let go of the bread in his arms.

Th-this should be stopped, right? Why is everyone just watching?

“Filthy vagrant!”

“Tsk, this is why lowly things are hopeless.”

But none of them pitied or sympathized with Sebastian.

Rather, they looked at him with contempt as if he were filthy refuse.

Suddenly something hot surged up from my stomach.

“Stop!”

My body moved on its own. While the baker hesitated, I hid Bastian behind me.

The baker, who had almost struck a baron’s daughter with his rolling pin, kept snorting and glaring at me—or more precisely, at Bastian whom I had hidden behind me.

“Are you okay?”

I only turned my head to check on Bastian.

His handsome face was a complete mess due to the clear handprint on his cheek and blood at the corner of his mouth.

However, only his eyes, which shone fiercely to the point of being desperate, were alive and gleaming.

Those blood-red eyes glared at me, and finally he opened his mouth.

“What are you butting in for? You white mold-like thing.”

“…”

Should I have just let him get hit one more time?

I have to introduce him to Dad or Uncle? Persuade them that now is the opportunity to buy low? Wouldn’t it work better to just take him to the royal palace right now and claim ‘Look at these red eyes! These eyes are proof of royal bloodline!’?

Sebastian Bellueur in the original story was what you’d commonly call a bad boy type.

As brilliant as his talent was, he was cruel and cold-hearted, unable to acknowledge his own feelings and treating Colette roughly, ultimately losing to Antoine.

Apart from thinking it was his own doing, I thought his terrible temperament was due to his miserable childhood.

There’s a reason for the saying that kindness comes from abundance.

But seeing him now, Bastian was just rotten from the very beginning.

“Move aside, miss! A guy like him should have his wrists cut off right away!”

Isn’t that too harsh a punishment for stealing a piece of bread!

…Though to argue that point, the bread Bastian stole was a campagne loaf as big as Antoine’s torso. He sure managed to steal something that big.

No, this isn’t the time to be impressed!

“Wait a minute. Even so, isn’t that too harsh for a child? I’ll buy that bread for him. So please let this boy go.”

“Huh?”

The baker’s eyes widened. Not missing that opportunity, I took out my handkerchief.

“Hold still.”

I tried to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth, but Bastian flinched and stepped back.

That sight was just like a stray cat with its fur standing on end in wariness, making me sigh with pity.

“You’re bleeding. I’ll wipe it for you.”

When I carefully extended my arm, he flinched but didn’t refuse.

I gathered courage and approached one step closer.

Bastian remained frozen in place, only blinking his eyes. However, his eyes were still full of wariness, as if he would shake me off and run away at any moment.

His condition was even more serious up close.

His pale face, drained of all color, had dark circles under his eyes and sunken cheeks.

Speaking from experience, you don’t reach this state from just starving for a day or two.

His shabby clothes with stretched collar and sleeves didn’t fit properly either, as if he had just picked them up somewhere, and his shoes, which were already falling apart, had flown off somewhere during the earlier commotion, leaving him barefoot.

The Bastian I knew was someone who never lost his arrogance and dignity even before the king, shining alone.

But what stood before me now was a young beast driven so pitifully to the edge of a cliff that only malice remained.

At that sight, a hot lump formed in my throat once again.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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