A fortune-telling princess Chapter 143

Chapter : the bill

“They’re still operating, even after all this?”

“Indeed. For over ten days now, they’ve been relentlessly cleaning up the filth thrown at their store, seemingly unfazed.”

“Ha!”

“In fact, their cleaning skills seem to have improved—they’re getting faster at it.”

“Idiots!”

Doralde, the owner of the Doralde Dessert Shop, clicked his tongue in frustration.

“What kind of work are you doing out there?”

“Oh, we handled things perfectly. Perhaps they just hire exceptional employees. They’re too diligent for their own good.”

“Shut up!”

When he first heard that a new café was opening nearby, he’d laughed it off.

Plenty of competitors had tried to challenge his dominance in the district, but none had lasted more than a few months. His desserts were unrivaled.

At first, he thought this new café would be no different. Despite its unique interior design, he’d scoffed when he noticed that it had barely any customers.

“But then…”

Things had changed.

Over time, the café started attracting more and more customers.

They introduced bizarre items like shaved ice and never-before-seen desserts that captivated the public’s attention. Before long, they were outperforming his store in sales.

“They dare call that mess a dessert?!”

At first, Doralde dismissed it as a passing fad. But as the café’s popularity grew, he couldn’t sit idly by any longer.

“What’s so great about that garbage?”

“Honestly, it tastes pretty goo—”

“Whose side are you on?!”

Even Doralde had secretly sent his employees to buy their desserts to see for himself. To his dismay, the desserts weren’t bad.

Their shaved ice and macarons were not only well-executed, but the craftsmanship was remarkable.

He’d even tried to recruit the café’s manager, the person rumored to make the desserts. But his offers were immediately turned down, no matter how much he sweetened the deal.

“Damn it!”

After failing to poach the talent, he tried replicating their creations, particularly the macarons. He figured if an amateur could make them, so could he.

But…

Failure. Failure. More failure.

After numerous attempts, he managed to mimic the appearance, but the taste was another story.

So, he shifted tactics: he decided to drive them out of the district.

“But look at this mess!”

Even that plan wasn’t going as expected. He’d initially hired thugs to cause trouble at the café, assuming they’d easily shut down.

He’d heard whispers that the café’s owner was the daughter of the Sorpel family, but he hadn’t been too concerned. The Sorpel Duke didn’t seem interested in the café’s affairs, and the owner herself was supposedly out of the empire for business.

It seemed like the perfect opportunity.

“But who the hell is that guy?!”

The situation spiraled out of control.

One day, a man appeared and wiped the floor with the thugs Doralde had hired. After that, no one was willing to take on the job, not even for a higher fee.

He’d switched to less direct methods, but those efforts weren’t working either.

“There’s got to be a better way…”

He needed to get rid of that café as soon as possible…

Thunk!

“Ugh!”

“Ahhh!”

A sudden crash shattered the glass, and an object flew in, embedding itself in the wall—an arrow from a crossbow.

Doralde and his staff instinctively dropped to the floor, trembling in terror.

“W-what is that?!”

Convinced that someone had come to kill them, they didn’t even think to call for help.

“I-is it over?”

When no further attacks came, Doralde hesitantly rose, his body trembling.

“…A note?”

The arrow had a piece of paper tied to it. Pulling it free, he unfolded the note, which read: 

<Bill>

“What the hell is this?”

The paper was filled with an itemized list of expenses—every single cleaning supply used to clean the café.

Doralde’s body shook, though this time from anger rather than fear.

“Those bastards!”

He ripped the paper into shreds, enraged by the audacity of someone sending him an invoice.

“Cleaning fees? Compensation?!”

It was laughable.

“They’re insane if they think I’ll—”

Crash! Thunk!

“Ahhh!”

Another arrow shattered through the window, embedding itself in the wall with another note attached.

Shaking, Doralde unfolded the new note.

“…15?”

The single number left him baffled. 15 what? 15 days? Was it a countdown?

Unsure of its meaning, Doralde shredded the note as well.

But he soon discovered the meaning.

Crash! Thunk!

“Ahhh!”

Every day, two bolts flew into the shop—one with an updated invoice and another with the next number in the countdown.

As the numbers dwindled, the bolts grew more precise, gradually closing in on Doralde’s location.

Thunk!

“Aaaah!”

Three days before the final number, an arrow flew so close it grazed his chest.

No matter where he tried to hide or how far he ran, the bolts found him. Even the city guards offered no help, claiming they couldn’t identify the culprit.

In utter despair, Doralde sprinted to the bank.

Meanwhile…

“Really? You’ve already made friends?”

─ “Well, sort of. They kept following me around, insisting on being friends.”

“That’s great!”

─ “It’s annoying. They even want to visit my house.”

Camilla suppressed a laugh, barely holding it in.

“That’s wonderful!”

─ “It’s not wonderful. They kept begging, so I just gave in.”

Though Dive’s words sounded grumpy, his tone was bright and full of excitement.

He had recently transferred to the academy, and it was clear from his voice that he was thrilled about his new friends.

“Next time, introduce them to me.”

─ “Um…”

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want me to meet them?”

Dive hesitated, his response unclear. Camilla’s smile faltered slightly.

Was he embarrassed by her?

─ “No, it’s not that… I just don’t want them meeting you.”

“What?”

─ “You’re my sister… I don’t want them seeing you.”

His muttered response made her smile return.

“Are you doing okay? Not sick or anything?”

─ “I’m fine! How about you? You’re not sick again, are you?”

“Nope, I’m doing great.”

─ “Good… don’t get sick, okay?”

Suddenly, Dive’s voice shifted.

─ “Father? When did you get here?”

Hearing “Father,” Camilla stilled.

─ “I just arrived. Feeling hungry? Want me to bring you snacks?”

What?! Escra Duke, offering snacks? Since when?

As Dive chatted with his father, Camilla ended the call, shaking her head with a grin.

“Good to know he’s doing well.”

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her window.

“Jaynor?”

The man from the underworld entered with a dazzling smile.

“I’ve come to collect the remaining payment.”