The Villainous Princess Wants to Live in a Gingerbread House - Chapter 72

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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 72

Even when the second act began after a brief intermission following the first act’s conclusion.
“Still, those two seem to get along better than expected, don’t they?”
“They certainly do. Do you think the Imperial Heir doesn’t view her as a rival?”
“I heard Prince Valery tried to approach Princess Anastasia and got thoroughly scolded by the Imperial Heir.”
“That’s right, that’s right. It happened at the victory ball, they say. You can see how much the Imperial Heir cherishes his cousin.”
“Be that as it may, it seems Prince Valery still hasn’t given up. Tsk, tsk.”
The nobles’ wistful murmurs dispersed quickly.
“Speaking of Princess Anastasia—isn’t she only turning ten this year?”
“Yes, she’ll be ten when her birthday comes this year.”
“And yet, at barely ten years old, she’s so well-behaved.”
“My child won’t sit still for a moment—like a rabbit that’s stolen coffee, running about constantly.”
“Yours is like that too?”
“Of course it is.”
When the performance ended and the curtain call rose with the leads taking their bow, the young princess they had been stealing glances at suddenly stood up. Though her small frame didn’t draw much attention in the commotion.
“Oh my, how adorable. She watched the performance so intently, and now she’s giving a standing ovation.”
“It seems she only had eyes for the princess, not the performance.”
“Well, they came to see what sort of relationship those two have anyway. Despite having seen the show more than five times over.”
“Ha ha, shall we stand and applaud as well?”

* * *

But Asha hadn’t leapt from her seat and rushed toward the theater’s back exit because of the stage performance.
‘That woman!’
The brown-haired maid—who had stood out for singing so remarkably well—was the same woman who had spat out cake in front of the Patisserie.
‘No wonder her voice was so peculiar.’
Back then, Asha had thought the woman’s voice oddly clear and carrying, and now it turned out she was an opera singer.
Truth be told, discovering the woman’s identity didn’t mean Asha had immediately decided what to do about it. Perhaps the woman had simply found the cake disagreeable and was merely someone with a sharp, disagreeable personality.
But still… something gnawed at her.
When Asha began searching for the brown-haired singer, Alexei, who had sent people to look, draped his coat over her shoulders.
“Asha, even if winter has passed, the nights are still chilly. Why not wait in the carriage?”
“It’s fine! I’m not that cold. I just want to see that person’s face right now…….”
“Butler, what will we do if he comes all the way out here looking like this?”
Before Asha could finish speaking, a thin, sharp voice—hushed yet piercing—rang out from beyond the alley, and the woman, now wearing a plain hood so different from her stage presence, emerged suddenly and began speaking rapidly in a flood of sharp words.
“And I already told you I won’t do that again. Don’t come back unless you’re offering more money! No, even if you offered more money…… don’t…… come…….”
“Whose butler are you looking for?”
The woman, who had been hurriedly rambling in a voice mixed with annoyance and fear, only then noticed the small girl’s shoes in front of her.
After seeing Asha, the luxurious carriage standing behind her, and the guards and attendants surrounding them, the woman’s face went deathly pale. Asha approached her with quick steps.
“You! You’re the one who caused a scene in front of our Patisserie, aren’t you?”
“Who…… who are you? I mean, someone just called me to go somewhere…….”
“I called you. It’s definitely you. Who hired you? Who made you do such a thing?”
“What…… what are you talking about…….”
Seeing Asha’s luxurious attire and the people surrounding her, the woman seemed to have guessed her station and began trembling with fear.
“I just need to go pick up my child right now, so…….”
That was when it happened.
Small, hurried footsteps echoed from the alley where the woman had emerged, and soon a young voice called out “Mom!” A boy smaller even than Asha came running and suddenly threw his arms around the woman.
“Mom! Your song today was so amazing…….”
“Nicky, Nicky. Come here. Hurry!”

The woman’s face turned ashen, and she quickly turned the child to her back as if doing so might somehow hide him.
Even so, Asha could see the boy’s face and clothes—a gaunt face, neat but worn and oversized garments and shoes, chapped hands.
As tears began to well up in the woman’s eyes while she stood helpless before the child and the people surrounding them, Asha found herself utterly taken aback.

* * *

Zoya Asmus had no idea what to do with herself after the child appeared before them.
A noblewoman’s daughter, nursing a grudge, had investigated and tracked them down to the theater. The carriage she arrived in was so ornate it dazzled the eye, and the swordsmen surrounding them were clearly no common street riffraff.
Zoya, gripping the child’s hand tightly, found herself without options. She prostrated herself before the Young Princess, weeping and begging that if only the child would be spared, she would tell them anything. The flustered Young Princess quickly helped her to her feet.
“I—I really don’t know who he is. I don’t even know which noble house his butler served.”
“How did you know the one who hired you was a butler?”
“Because only a noble’s butler can pose as a noble without anyone challenging him, even if he isn’t one.”
Zoya spoke rapidly, her voice trembling with anxiety and unease, but the moment her eyes met those of her young son Nicky playing by the Bicheugda River, releasing lanterns into the sky, her face broke into the widest smile.
When the Bicheugda River froze in the depths of winter, people often came to its banks to release lanterns into the sky. Since it was a pastime only the wealthy could afford, Nicky, who had never done such a thing before, was beside himself with joy. At first he’d refused to leave his mother’s side, but when Zoya coaxed him and pressed a lantern into his hands, his curiosity finally won out.
While Alexei’s attendants looked after Nicky, Asha stood at a distance, pressing Zoya for answers. When the child turned his head to follow the lantern’s flight, Zoya’s gaze fell to the ground.
“He just… said he’d give me 1.5 million karusses.”
“1.5 million?”
“That tattered coat Nicky’s wearing—it was an old opera prop, and I was lucky to get it at all. Rent is two months overdue, and… and performing even minor roles in opera actually costs money… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you all this.”
Zoya waved her hands frantically in distress.
“What I mean is… I was desperate for money, and then someone made me an offer. Just stand outside the shop and say a few words—that the dessert tastes bad, that it doesn’t make sense for a one-handed deserter to be making it—and I’d get 1.5 million karusses.”
Zoya apologized repeatedly, saying she deeply regretted it, that she should never have taken such work no matter how desperately she needed the money. Asha, her spirit deflated, shook her head.
‘What’s the point? Getting angry at someone who knows nothing won’t change anything.’
Asha decided she would simply tell her not to do such things again and part ways, but a sudden thought made her lips twitch slightly.
‘But where did her husband go?’
Perhaps sensing Asha’s unspoken question, Zoya lowered her eyes with a somewhat bitter expression.
“Once I told him about Nicky… he stopped contacting me and disappeared.”
“Ah…”
Asha’s lips pouted out in frustration.
“Did you at least keep the 1.5 million karusses?”
“Y-yes?”
“You went through all that trouble to get the money. So did you actually keep it?”
The way Zoya floundered made it clear she had indeed secured the payment carefully. Asha, a petulant look crossing her face, gazed out toward Nicky releasing lanterns in the distance, then removed the delicate gloves from her hands.
“Your voice is remarkably good. That’s how I recognized you.”
“…What?”
“One of the chorus members sang better than the female lead, so I kept watching, curious who this singer was, and that’s when I realized.”
“Ah…”
Zoya seemed not to understand what she was hearing. Asha hemmed and hawed about how summer was nearly over so it wouldn’t be cold even at night, or how she was tired of gloves—before suddenly pressing them into Zoya’s hands and turning back toward her carriage.

Zoya held the pristine white gloves, adorned with pearls and white satin ribbons, bewildered, when she noticed a young man—or was it a boy?—approaching. She quickly thrust the gloves forward.
“The—the lady left these behind. Let me return them…”
“Keep them.”
Zoya felt an overwhelming pressure emanate from the stranger’s cool blue eyes—something she had never experienced before. Her hands trembled, and the gloves slipped from her grasp.
Alexei bent down and picked up his cousin’s gloves from where they had fallen at Zoya’s feet. He spoke to her in a soft voice.
“I have a question. Answer it honestly, without deception.”
“Y-yes?”
“Did that butler who came looking for you have a scar beneath one of his eyes?”
“A scar…? Ah, yes, beneath his left eye—a thin, jagged line like a wrinkle…”
Zoya quickly touched the area beneath her own left eye as she answered. Alexei smiled faintly and pressed Asha’s gloves back into her hands.
“They’re made from valuable pearls, so you can sell them for a good sum.”
“I—I couldn’t possibly accept such a thing…”
“Had you meant to deceive that child, I would not have forgiven you.”
At Alexei’s words, Zoya felt a chill run down her spine and sensed a menacing heat emanating from him, though she could not move.

* * *

That singer carried the scent of Prasty.
‘What?’
Asha, deftly flipping a pancake, turned to look at a small yellow chick perched on the kitchen counter with a serious expression.
‘Prasty… you mean the fragment of the Sword of Sin?’
Yes.
‘So Zoya has Prasty inside her?’
No. It seems she made contact with someone carrying Prasty. The scent is so faint that at first I didn’t notice it…
That was Pibi’s explanation—that her strength had been slowly returning, which is how she’d picked up on it. When Asha looked startled, Pibi brushed her small yellow wing against her own beak.
You’ve done well. Kalno seems to be corresponding smoothly with his Spirit. Though it doesn’t seem they’re conversing yet.
‘With the Spirit of Time? If Kalno does that… does your strength return?’

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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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