Chapter 107

“This is amusing.”

Princess.

Delia gazed at the ripple of her drink and calmly spoke.

“Does it please you?”

“Hmm.”

Garim knows well that this “hmm” sound is a statement steeped in pride.

The inability to readily answer even when pleased reflects the mountainous considerations tied to the weight of royalty.

Such hesitation itself is paradoxically a strong indication of approval.

“Why couldn’t someone under me develop something as simple as this?”

The gentle green glow of leaves swaying with carbonation.

Its bubbling movement offers a refreshing sensation, piercing through any discomfort.

It was an excellent beverage—especially because it was alcoholic.

If it had precisely targeted the preferences of ladies and young misses, then it could be considered a success.

Thus, it only made it more irritating.

A reprimand for the incompetence of subordinates who couldn’t develop such a simple thing.

An admiring sigh tinged with surprise about why something like this hadn’t appeared sooner.

Especially since they had already failed by not cultivating the seed beforehand.

Relying on a single individual wasn’t ideal from the royal palace’s perspective either.

“Isn’t inventing something usually like this?”

“I know. That’s why I’m evaluating it fairly.”

Acknowledgment and disdain may differ slightly but are quite similar.

Unexpected joy implies unexpected vulnerability, which isn’t entirely pleasant from the standpoint of royalty.

“We’ve received the recipe.”

“Yes. The recipe along with the ingredients.”

“That pleases me. Have them replicate it using different ingredients instead of what he provided.”

Is the uniqueness in the recipe or the ingredients?

Even while leaning toward the latter, there’s no downplaying the talent of Baron Melon for creating such a product.

The princess tapped her fingers on the table, waiting for her mojito to arrive.

Soon, an identical cocktail came.

“What different ingredients were used?”

“Mint, sugar, lime.”

“Was the alcohol and soda water unchanged?”

“Yes. No changes were made to the liquid.”

Glug—

She took a sip, savoring its refreshing quality.

It’s different.

Though unclear exactly how, the taste is quite distinct.

The noticeable difference causes her lips to press into her teeth, leaving faint marks.

“A difference indeed.”

“It seems the original suits you better.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

While it might be impossible to match the quality, it truly doesn’t matter.

Using the inferior version as a benchmark naturally leads to the superior one being recognized as high-quality.

Gap.

Providing something better creates a meaningful distinction—a good story.

Revealing the recipe gradually at banquets, offering the exclusive drink as rewards to those who impress.

Just imagining it paints a satisfying picture, causing the princess to nod slightly.

It will require more funds, but spending money to acquire what one desires is worth it if it’s inexpensive.

“Does the baron have any special requests?”

“He wants usage rights to the teleportation device.”

“Not installation, just usage rights?”

“Yes.”

“That’s intriguing. What abilities does he possess that would make him want that technology?”

Interest flickers anew in the princess’s eyes.

The tinkling sound of ice shards in her swaying glass fills the air.

“There’s a mage nearby.”

“Really? A mage in such a backwater place?”

“The Forest Mage resides there.”

“Oh. That lunatic.”

“Yes.”

Rarely does the princess remember a name so clearly.

A dangerous mage capable of plunging the world into chaos if led astray.

That’s why they quietly exiled him to the forest.

Fortunately, he accepted this life of quiet experimentation surrounded by books.

Had he resisted, it would have caused significant damage.

A madman, yet a great mage—an extraordinary being who has scaled great heights and transcended boundaries.

“You managed to secure his help, didn’t you?”

“The crops from the farm tended by fairies and spirits were enough to pique his interest.”

“Hmm. If curiosity drove the mad mage, that makes sense. Fine. Grant him the usage rights. Stamp it with my name.”

“Understood. I’ll bring more recipes next time.”

“If you can extract more, do so. It seems Baron’s capabilities aren’t limited to this alone.”

“Instead of cutting open our hands, wouldn’t it be better to let them lay eggs on their own?”

“That sounds reasonable. Proceed accordingly.”

Garim bowed silently and departed.

His next destination was where the nobles gathered.

Spreading rumors and subtly increasing the item’s value was necessary to shine a light on the product.

For the merchandise to gain recognition, people must first know about it.

Naturally, anything the princess showed interest in became prestigious.

Garim worked tirelessly to enhance its value.

“Garim! What brings you here today?”

The nobles knew full well but welcomed him anyway.

Because whatever Garim brought was guaranteed to be of exceptional quality and performance.

For example, the trendy sweet fruit medley that became indispensable at banquets—it was typically Garim’s responsibility.

Pretending ignorance while knowing fully well.

Nobles aren’t fools; if they judge something to have lost its value, they can quietly make it disappear.

“This is a new kind of alcohol.”

“Hmm?”

“A refreshing and tangy drink. Specifically, a mix of various elements—a special cocktail.”

“Cocktail…?”

“May I offer you a sample?”

“Sure.”

Soon, the noble held a mojito.

The sight of the slowly swirling green leaf was refreshingly novel.

Alcohol was usually strong stuff or beer-like beverages, so this crafted concoction felt even fresher.

Of course, the noble’s mouth quickly found its way to the glass.

Glug.

With the sound of liquid being sipped, the noble slowly nodded.

“This is quite light for a man like me.”

“It’s perfect for setting a good mood.”

“Ah, haha. So that’s what you meant. Not bad at all.”

“There are many varieties. Strong ones, beautiful ones…”

“After this tasting, we won’t settle for less, right?”

“That’s correct. We’ll take time to mature it properly and present it at the right moment.”

“Name this mojito after me. It deserves it.”

“Gladly.”

“So, who created this?”

Garim answered plainly.

“This is from a newly ennobled man. Minho, Marquis of Musk, known as Baron Melon.”

“Ah, yes. The one who delights our palates. Another fine work from him. He’s talented.”

“He has a knack for gastronomy.”

“True. Good talent.”

Casual replies followed.

Garim knew this was close to a dismissal and quietly left.

Making his presence known was enough.

Gradually spreading news would inevitably expand its value and potential.

Garim valued this drink highly.

Comparable to the previous fruits.

He secretly anticipated explosive growth akin to that.

Lifting the glass with flowing ice, he took another sip.

“Definitely mild for alcohol.”

Savoring the aroma amidst the clinking ice.

“Everything has its own charm.”

Not all alcohol needs to be strong.

Moreover, if strong drinks can be cleanly crafted, that’s even better.

Finishing the refreshing drink, he slowly thought of Baron Melon.

Curious to see how this man would be received when he eventually revealed himself.

Would the harsh elitism of the nobility prevail?

Or would they succumb to the allure of sweet products and show favor?

Finishing his drink, he walked away.

Observing the growth of nobility was part of the fun.

A core element of Garim’s pleasure in spotting talent.

* * *

“My head hurts…”

And with that, Anne lifted my hand to her forehead.

Indeed, a slight warmth coursed through her brow.

Too subtle to discern whether it was from my touch or a hangover.

Without distinguishing further, I gently stroked Anne.

“Want something cool to drink?”

“I’d like some warm broth.”

Seems universally, warm soup is the go-to hangover cure.

To prepare a clear, clean broth, I tucked Anne neatly into bed and headed to the kitchen.

Evanzelin slept peacefully.

Apparently, she’s more sensitive to alcohol.

Shabu-shabu broth.

And another clean soup made with seafood stock.

A bit heavy, but knowing these two would enjoy it, I prepared both.

As the savory scent filled the house, Anne shuffled out.

Clutching her messy hair, she set the table skillfully.

By the time the cooking finished, Evanzelin showed signs of waking up.

Her dazed face and dry lips reminded me of last night.

Back then, her minty freshness lingered.

“Come eat.”

“Sorry for sleeping in.”

“No worries. A day off is fine.”

Though unable to cook, moving things around was manageable.

Ordinarily, she served the warm soup.

Our meal began leisurely with Jack joining in.

Cheerful spirits waited politely at the door.

Only then did I open the door, realizing morning had begun.

“I feel alive again…”

At the table now devoid of Jack and the spirits, slurping sounds filled the air.

The soothing feeling of food settling the stomach.

Watching them enjoy the nourishing meal was delightful.

After finishing the meal and cleaning up, Anne emerged from her bath, radiating steam.

Her body wrapped in a towel, damp and somewhat provocative.

Evanzelin seemed to be taking her time in the shower, as water sounds still echoed.

“Minho!”

“Yes.”

“Dry my hair.”

There’s no such thing as a hairdryer in this world.

Though some magical substitute likely exists,

we don’t have one at home currently.

So the magic used was drying wind.

Since I’m the only one who can perform this magic,

Anne always asks me to dry her hair after bathing.

Without proper clothing,

her wet state accentuated her deep golden locks.

Turning her head slightly, she glanced at me coyly, quite captivating.

I channeled wind into my hands.

Warm, drying currents soon lifted her hair, evaporating the moisture.

Enjoying the warmth, Anne tilted her head back, closing her eyes.

Her exposed shoulders stood out strikingly against her pristine skin.

Without showing much reaction, I carefully dried her hair until it was fluffy and shiny.

With the final flutter of her wind-tossed hair, my task was complete.

“Thank you!”

Anne turned around and kissed my cheek.

The fleeting fragrance reminded me of fresh spring blossoms.

“You look especially pretty today.”

Blurted without thought, Anne’s cheeks turned bright red.

She enjoys making such comments but lacks immunity to receiving them, flailing awkwardly.

One day, she’ll grow accustomed and respond smoothly,

but for now, this innocent demeanor suits her best.

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