The Villainous Princess Wants to Live in a Gingerbread House - Chapter 53

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Villainous Princess Wants to Live in a Pastry Shop
Chapter 53

Yet relief flooded through him in the next moment. Had the Crown Prince not made that subtle suggestion, he would have found any excuse to reject Pavel’s cooking outright.
But when Pavel returned, announcing he was ready and bearing the cake, Fyodor found himself unable to do anything but finish an entire plate, murmuring that a single bite would hardly give him enough to judge.
He simply could not stop.
“Well? What do you think?”
“……Hmm.”
The subtle sweetness drawn from carrot blended with brown sugar to deepen the flavor considerably, while cinnamon tickled exquisitely at the tip of his nose.
There was the nutty richness of a cream made from ground nuts, and at the finish, apricot jam added an umami that made him want to start over from the beginning.
It was the first time he’d felt such satisfaction eating a dessert. Fyodor ate the cake in silence, methodically, because the moment he opened his mouth, praise would spill out.
“So…… what do you say now?”
Pavel asked again, the empty plate between them. Fyodor clenched his fists so tightly he thought he might burst into applause.
When he’d learned that Pavel was under the Crown Prince’s patronage, he’d resolved not to speak harshly. But he hadn’t meant to give unqualified praise either—or so he’d thought.
“Quite…… magnificent. I must admit, hearing descriptions, I worried it might be too rustic. That you would have such depth in desserts, I genuinely…… truly…… simply…… had no idea…….”
The future emperor, no matter what anyone said, was the Crown Prince Alexei. Even if Ilya, the imperial heir and son of Prince Valery, had made a contract with the Spirit King, the die was cast and would not turn again.
And if Alexei had already set his sights on someone, that person had to become his. Pavel appeared flustered by his superior’s sudden shift in demeanor, but Fyodor brazened it out.
“Good, good. This cake will be the dessert for the banquet. Have you named it? If not, I could name it after you—”
“Ah, well, actually there is something I should tell you about that.”
Pavel raised his hand to stop him.
“This cake was actually…… made following a recipe conceived by the imperial heir Anastasia, not by myself.”
“Ha ha ha. What are you talking about?”
Fyodor laughed heartily.
A ten-year-old girl had originally created this cake? Fyodor found Pavel’s claim difficult to accept. The man was too skilled—seasoned enough to oversee the Imperial Palace’s entire kitchen. The finest cook in the empire, at the very least.
“No matter how much you’ve been protecting—”
“I assure you, it’s true. She wanted to help with the banquet dessert, you see. I myself had no ideas, but she created something this lovely.”
“……Is that so?”
“Yes. I’m very grateful it passed inspection.”
Pavel’s face held not a trace of falsehood. When a man who looked fierce as a brigand said “I’m grateful,” Fyodor felt his spine tingle with sudden chill.
‘What? The imperial heir Anastasia was involved in this too?’
Had he carried out his plan and behaved badly without knowing, he would have fallen out of favor with not one but two imperial heirs.
“Ah, no, if that’s the case, you should have told me from the start—that the heir had made it—”
Did Anastasia really make this cake?
Fyodor remained skeptical. The girl might have spread some apricot jam between the layers, but surely Pavel had made most of it.
Yet Pavel’s invocation of the imperial heir Anastasia was either a show of her favor toward him, or a way of cultivating that connection.
‘Wait. No, no, no. It was the Crown Prince Alexei who championed this cake in the first place.’
Fyodor suddenly went still. Now the larger picture came into focus.
Alexei clearly intended to embrace Pavel, who had managed his meals all this time. But to say such a thing openly would offend imperial dignity.
‘That’s it—that’s why he brought the imperial heir Anastasia into the picture!’
Now Pavel could claim the heir had helped, and Alexei could say he was merely honoring his cousin’s work. A neat side effect: pushing that potential rival cousin aside into the kitchen’s shadows!
Fyodor absently touched his throat. The thought that he might have lost all this over a careless mistake made it feel all the more precious.
“Ah, no matter. Either way, good, good. This cake will be the dessert for the banquet.”
Pavel’s face brightened at those words. Fyodor caught a fleeting image of Prince Valery’s face as he raged at him, but he quickly pushed it aside.
“What’s the cake’s name?”
“Ah, there was no talk of that…….”
“It needs a name! Something truly splendid.”
Pavel seemed about to suggest consulting the heir, but then shook his head.
“Hmm?”
“It would be best if you named it, Head Chef. The imperial heir seems to have little interest in naming things…….”
The rest of Pavel’s words were mumbled in a way that didn’t quite match his build, and Fyodor couldn’t make them out clearly.
‘She has little interest in naming things, perhaps?’
Fyodor, feeling awkward about pressing further on matters related to the heir, decided to let it pass.
“Then…… it would be all right if I decided on one myself?”
“Since you’re directing the banquet, Head Chef, it’s only proper that you do so.”
“That’s…… that’s true! Yes, I’ll give it careful thought.”
Somehow Pavel’s words lifted his shoulders in a way that made it feel like they’d grown closer, despite the cool distance they’d kept until now. And so the day of the Nocti Elves’ delegation drew steadily nearer.

* * *

Word arrived that the Nocti Elves had finally crossed the empire’s borders, and at that very moment, the commander of the Tingress Knights Order returned after nearly ten years away.
“I’m not going.”
“Pardon?”
Lis, who had pulled out three dresses and couldn’t hide her excitement, turned to her in confusion. Asha spoke again, firmly.
“I won’t go.”
“Where… where won’t you go?”
Lis asked, unwilling to let go of her last hope, but Asha shook her head with stubborn resolve.
“I’m not going to see the Knights Order.”
“My goodness, Your Highness. You’re not going to see the Knights Order. It’s just a leisurely walk…”
“All the way around the Western Side of the Imperial Palace?”
The Knights Order’s training grounds were on the Western Side of the Imperial Palace.
“…But Your Highness, the commander of the Tingress Knights has returned, and I’ve heard he’s a most wonderful man. Wouldn’t it be nice to meet him and pay your respects?”
“He’s my maternal grandfather.”
“…!”
Lis’s face flushed with confusion. She seemed to have thought Asha didn’t know.
“Ah… you knew?”
“Yes, I heard.”
“Then all the more—”
Asha could read Lis’s earnest eyes. She wanted there to be someone who could stand as Asha’s ally, someone as isolated as an island. If only through a meeting disguised as chance.
“Grandfather apparently didn’t want to see me for ten years, but if he suddenly wants to see me after all this time, he’ll come see me himself, won’t he?”
Asha spoke with deliberate petulance. Mentioning the succession to the throne here would only invite misunderstanding—something like “How remarkable that you’re already considering such matters! You’re quite worthy of being His Imperial Majesty’s heir!” She wanted to avoid that entirely.
“Of course the commander would have wanted to see you. It’s just that circumstances haven’t allowed it until now…”
“Right, so if he suddenly wants to see me, he’ll come see me first.”
Asha spoke with such finality that she felt she’d closed the matter entirely.

* * *

“There was an investiture ceremony for the new Tingress Knights Order commander today. I heard you didn’t attend.”
Asha, sitting on a garden bench reading a book about the Nocti Elves, answered without lifting her head at the voice from behind her.
“The way you say it, it seems you didn’t attend either, Kalno?”
“If I showed up, people might collapse on the spot.”
As he spoke, a shadow fell across the page she was reading.
Only then did Asha tilt her head back to look up. Kalno, with his characteristically wry expression, was looking down at her.
His face, caught in the glow of the sunset, bore deep shadows that made his thoughts difficult to discern at a glance.
“I didn’t go either—I was afraid people would collapse when they saw me.”
“You mean because of the pea?”
She snapped the book shut and threw a punch at him, but both her left and right hands were blocked in turn.
Kalno only released his grip when she tried to head-butt him, then spoke.
“Alexei was disappointed.”
“What?”
“That he couldn’t see you.”
“I see him tonight anyway, don’t I?”
“He said the pea needs to sleep at that hour.”
Left hand, right hand, head-butt followed in succession once more. Of course, none of them landed as actual attacks.
Kalno, releasing her hands, asked again.
“Really though—why didn’t you go to the investiture ceremony?”
Asha stopped her tantrum and opened her book again before answering.
“Because I was afraid you’d kill me if I went.”
It was said in jest, but half of it was serious. The other half really was a joke. Yet after a long silence, Kalno gave no answer. Asha found herself watching for his reaction and lifted her head.
“…Kalno?”
“Is that why you think that—because the Spirit I contracted with is the Spirit of Death?”
Asha’s lips moved soundlessly. Now that he mentioned it, there was that problem.
‘Should I tell him it’s actually the Spirit of Time?’
But revealing the truth wasn’t simple—not only would she have to explain how she knew, there were other complications.
For someone tormented by a special birth or ability, could she really tell him that everything that had caused him such suffering stemmed merely from a misunderstanding—even if she didn’t particularly care otherwise?
That peculiarity had made him solitary, yet at the same time, didn’t that very power serve as the foundation stone of his life? The power that had allowed him to become Deputy Commander of the Imperial Army at fifteen, the power that made him an undeniable future Duke—that was the power of the Spirit of Death.
She couldn’t be certain whether revealing the truth would shatter the millstone that had weighed on him, or whether it would break the foundation stone that had sustained him.

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