The Villainous Princess Wants to Live in a Gingerbread House - Chapter 60

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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 Villainess Princess Wants to Live in a Pastry Shop
60

The Emperor let out a hollow laugh, as though exasperated, then narrowed his eyes as if he’d come to understand something.
“I told you not to create spare buttons for the Crown Prince. If I’d known you possessed such power, would I have made you my heir instead?”
“That’s just… I was afraid it might wound Alexei.”
In the end, the Emperor released a quiet sigh.
“Cousins, and such affection between you. My brothers and I were never so warm.”
One couldn’t fault closeness, after all.
“I didn’t summon you here to interrogate whether you can speak with spirits.”
The Emperor gestured, and the Chief Attendant, who had been standing at a distance, drew near once more.
“You’ve done no small service in this Peace Treaty.”
Asha blinked, tilting her head. If he meant the matter with the Nocti Elves, then yes—she had managed to avert what might have become a crisis.
“That is your reward.”
“Your Majesty?”
<I’ve taken care to provide something to your liking.>
<You wind spirit! Don’t speak so carelessly to my contractor!>
A gentle breeze swept past her ear, whispering, and Pibi chirped indignantly from within her pocket.
At that same moment, the Chief Attendant, reading the Emperor’s gaze, slowly opened an enormous door. From within burst such brilliant light that it seemed to blind her. Asha blinked, thinking her mind had quite left her.
‘Good heavens.’
“……I’m not certain it will please you.”
Asha saw the vista before her and at first clamped her mouth shut in shock, then finally gathered herself and took a deep breath. The Emperor watched her with his murky blue eyes, as though appraising her worth.
Asha cleared her throat softly to collect herself, then stepped toward the interior as the Emperor seemed to expect. She found herself forced to draw another breath to suppress a gasp of wonder.
The kitchen’s counter gleamed with oil-rich dark wood. The lower cabinets were painted a calm mint, adorned with gold-leafed wainscoting that lent an air of distinguished elegance, and each drawer bore a round handle that caught the light like gold.
A faucet crafted from the same material as the handles rose above a white enamel sink basin. When she reached out and turned the tap, water poured forth with a rushing sound.
White herringbone tiles covered the wall, from which hung both cooking implements she recognized and others wholly foreign; above, shell-shaped crystal lanterns sparkled from the ceiling.
On the upper shelves, rarely glimpsed dishes and serving trays that seemed precious; and on the counter below sat a white vase brimming with soft pink roses.
Thin silhouette curtains filtered the warm sunlight streaming through the front-facing windows, as though a single kitchen chamber had been plucked whole from a doll’s house.
“Hmm. You seem to like it.”
Hearing the Emperor’s murmur, Asha finally snapped back to awareness.
‘What did he say again? A gift, wasn’t it?’
Surely this entire kitchen couldn’t be the gift—so then which of these things was meant for her, and what? The Emperor still regarded her with an enigmatic expression, brimming with some unspoken expectation.
“Ah, um…….”
If she didn’t answer at once, this would become terribly awkward. Asha hastily tried to discern what might be intended for her from among all this, when she spotted the one object that lay outside the kitchen’s proper domain. In that instant, her face brightened.
“Oh! I absolutely love it!”
“Do you?”
Caught up in marveling at the kitchen’s grandeur, she had overlooked the details, but upon closer inspection, a delicate pale pink ribbon was tied around the neck of the intricately carved white ceramic vase.
‘You don’t ordinarily tie a ribbon on a vase, do you? It must be because this is the gift.’
The soft pink roses bloomed abundantly, each petal vivid and fresh; as she drew closer, the cool, vibrant fragrance of dew-laden petals rose sweetly to meet her.
Asha swept the vase up into her arms. As the flowers drew near her face, their scent grew even more refreshing.
“They’re absolutely lovely. The fragrance is wonderful too. How should I change the water? Should I ask the gardener?”
Besides, Kalno had sent those white lisianthus by the bundle; the two flowers would look beautiful displayed together. Caught up in her enthusiasm, asking questions left and right, Asha finally lowered her gaze from the blossoms and looked up—only then realizing she’d gravely misunderstood something.
<Oh, oh my.>
As Shamal exhaled a sigh tinged with amusement, the Emperor regarded her with an expression heavy and difficult to describe, then turned abruptly and swept out of the kitchen.
“Why, why such a……?”
<Your grandfather is quite temperamental. Go soothe him.>
As the wind brushed past her, Pibi poked her yellow head from Asha’s pocket.
<He’s offended because your reaction didn’t please him!>
‘What more can I do here?’
Her words of delight had been sincere, and she’d expressed herself with genuine effort.
‘Should I have danced?’
Should she have bounced about? Had her words been too restrained a display of joy for an elder’s taste? Just as Asha tentatively began to tap the floor, the door burst open again, and the Emperor returned with a rush of wind.
“It seems my explanation was a touch insufficient.”
“Your Majesty?”

Wind swirled, sending Asha’s hair streaming, as the Emperor reached into her arms, snatched the vase, and set it back upon the counter. He stood in silence for a moment, then drew a deep breath and spoke.
“What I’m giving you is this kitchen.”
“I’m sorry?”
Asha blinked, turning to look behind her. A small kitchen brimming with everything, filled with warm and refined tones.
“The kitchen? Who… for me?”
“……Yes.”
The Emperor nodded as though confirming something. Asha’s lips parted, and she asked again.
“This kitchen… for me?”
“That’s right. ……Doesn’t it please you?”
“No! Really, it’s wonderful!”
Asha let out a half-startled cry, then quickly covered her mouth and looked around again.
A beautiful new kitchen, not a speck of dust to be found.
“……Really…… truly?”
As Asha asked with her hand still covering her mouth, the Emperor simply nodded in silence.
Watching his granddaughter bury her cheek in the vase of flowers and laugh softly, the Emperor initially wondered if she was seeking some sort of revenge.
Upon reflection, her displeasure would have been understandable. After treating her so poorly since birth, to summon her to the Imperial Palace only to thrust a kitchen at her seemed as though he were treating her like nothing more than a servant—worse than a servant, even. Regardless of how much care and expense had gone into building that kitchen.

— This will do, isn’t that what you said, Shamal?

It was around the time he’d finished selecting all the gifts to reward the Nocti Elves for concluding their talk smoothly, when his granddaughter fell ill.
Though he visited each night, he could only watch her suffer. He learned she’d woken while in the middle of a state council. He couldn’t abandon the meeting, so he ordered everything he’d prepared to give her sent immediately.
The Chief Attendant reported that his granddaughter had been pleased, but the Emperor knew through Shamal that even before all those precious things, she’d shown little real delight.
That’s when Shamal mentioned the kitchen. For a granddaughter who loved baking pastries, it would surely be a far more delightful gift than such trifles—the Emperor had agreed without much thought, and straightaway ordered the kitchen built to suit the child’s movements and habits. He’d even personally selected several pieces of furniture, thinking his youngest son’s tastes might have been passed down to her. But when he brought her in, the reckless granddaughter merely glanced around the kitchen and then picked up the vase he’d set there as decoration!
The Emperor hastily stepped outside, leaving the child alone in the kitchen, and vented his frustration at Shamal, who had suggested this. And as if wrapping that anger in softness, the wind spoke gently.

He had reigned as the Empire’s Emperor his whole life, seeing through the hearts of those who knelt before him, yet reading sincerity from his young granddaughter’s expression was proving difficult in the extreme.
She wouldn’t simply pick up a floral arrangement placed there as mere decoration and claim it made her happy, would she? That’s what the Emperor had truly believed.
Yet when he caught sight of his granddaughter’s expression, she seemed genuinely delighted. Her face glowing as she spoke of the lovely flowers.
So the Emperor found his courage and decided to speak. That the gift he was giving her wasn’t merely that small vase, but this entire space.

Her face flushed red, she caught her breath, then suddenly rushed to peer into the drawers, ran her hands over the countertops, turned the tap on and off, and when she tried to reach for the oven, the startled Chief Attendant set aside propriety and lifted her away.
Though he scolded her—saying she claimed to love baking pastries yet didn’t even know how to use an oven—the girl remained radiant.
That’s when he began to think: ‘Is this really something to be so overjoyed about?’
He hadn’t given her a prosperous estate, nor a vast sum to use as she pleased, nor glittering gold and jewels.
Moreover, nowhere in his granddaughter’s display of joy could he detect the kind of pleasure that came from ‘receiving something bestowed by the Empire’s Emperor’—and that subtly altered his mood.
<You see? Didn’t I say the soft peach would like it?>
At the wind’s words, the Emperor set down the pen he’d been holding, ceased his reminiscence, and leaned forward.
“I… never expected this.”
At Mikhail’s murmur, the sound of the wind laughing heartily filled the Emperor’s Study.
His granddaughter had become entirely absorbed in touching and arranging the new kitchen, treating the Emperor as though he didn’t exist. In the end, the Emperor had to leave her to enjoy his gift alone.
He’d begun to feel like an intruder, and besides, if he’d stayed any longer, his thoughtless granddaughter might have gotten the wrong idea and started baking cookies with grandfather.
“……But tell me, why didn’t you mention until now that the child converses with her own spirit?”
<Your peach didn’t wish it.>
The Emperor let out a small laugh. It was transparent as day. The flustered expression on his granddaughter’s face made it equally plain. His granddaughter understood her position and abilities more clearly than anyone.
And more than that, unmistakably, she wanted no place that such power might grant her. The proof lay in how she’d hidden the fact that she could converse with a spirit the moment she’d formed a contract, all before anyone could even ask—all at merely ten years old.

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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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