After the incident of the "heavenly fist" that nearly went down in the history of criminality, I—Liliane von Hohenberg—the potential goddess of love and makeshift hero driven by panic—could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
The carriage gently rocked, leaving the forest where the robbers' pride lay buried alongside two eggs of honor that would never be the same.
"Mary," I said, sipping the tea that, for some reason, tasted better after the chaos of life.
"Yes, Mistress?"
"If I die today, please write on my gravestone: 'She lived with style, died with a fist.'" I said, contemplating a situation where the robbers might return for revenge.
What do I expect as a villainess in this novel? Maybe after avoiding the engagement, death will come in another way, right?
But behind the death joke, Mary gave me a flat look. "Very well, Mistress. I will ensure the epitaph is written in starry, sparkling ink."
I smiled with satisfaction. "Thank you. I want my death to be aesthetic."
A few hours later, we arrived at the central city market. The atmosphere was festive—crowded, noisy, and full of aromas that… I'm sure were a mix of fresh flowers, street food, and the sweat of the common folk's hopes.
"We've finally arrived!" I exclaimed cheerfully, jumping down from the carriage. "Look! There are flower sellers, there's fruit, there's—OH MY GOD, that's the royal version of french fries!"
Mary looked at me tiredly. "Please be careful, Mistress. This market is not the place for—"
"Mary," I cut her off quickly. "Look at that! The meat and melted cheese sandwich seller! That's not food… that's a call of destiny!"
And like a newly paid rich tourist, I immediately stormed the first stall.
"Good morning, bread seller! I want this one, that one, and the one in the corner too!"
The seller was sweating. "B-but, Miss… those are all large portions…"
"It's fine. I have space in my stomach and in my heart."
A few minutes later, my hands were full: meat sandwiches, apple pie, mushroom skewers, and a strange heart-shaped rose candy.
Clara—another one of my maids—looked horrified. "Mistress, you said you were looking for inspiration."
"What's the difference?" I retorted philosophically. "Inspiration and calories go hand in hand. When the stomach is full, the brain thinks faster. Don't believe me? Let's prove it!"
We continued walking. At the fruit stand, I was given free grapes. At the perfume stall, I was offered a tester with the aroma of flowers and self-esteem. At the clothing stall, a mother said, "Miss, your face is so beautiful. This pink color suits you perfectly."
I immediately bought three. Not because I needed them, but because flattery is the most effective currency in the world.
The merchants began to whisper.
"Who is that?"
"She looks like a noble… but her clothes look like a cleaning rag."
"Maybe a noble who ran away from home?"
"Shhh! She might curse us!"
I pretended not to hear while chewing on a mushroom skewer. It was incredibly delicious. Maybe I'll buy a full basket later. And of course, I shared it with my maids and the knights escorting me.
Miraculously, as soon as I shared the food, all their protests vanished.
Before, they were like: "Mistress, please stop shopping." After the first bite: "Mistress, they say the store next door has a discount!"
Within twenty minutes, my hands were full of shopping bags, my cheeks were puffing out, and my wallet was screaming for mercy. But do you want to know the advantage of my current status?
I am a Duke's daughter, ladies and gentlemen. My father's money is vast, and this is the best moment of my life. So, it must be enjoyed, right?!
Just look, my eyes have already found the next best spot.
"La Douce Reine — The Best Dessert House in the Capital."
That was what the sign read. I froze. Then my eyes sparkled like a soldier spotting treasure.
"Mary…" my voice trembled. "Do you know what that writing means?"
"It means diabetes, Mistress," Mary replied expressionlessly.
"No. It means true happiness. Let's go in!"
As the door opened, the aroma of vanilla and caramel immediately greeted me like a warm hug from the universe. The place was elegant yet busy. The tables were full of people laughing while enjoying cake—and perhaps regretting their diets.
A waiter greeted me politely. "Welcome, Miss. Where would you like to sit?"
"The best spot with the most beautiful view!"
"Very well, we have a table on the second floor, near the window."
"PERFECT!"
We went up to the second floor. From here, the market was clearly visible. The colors of the fabrics, the golden sunlight, and the hustle and bustle of life felt like a moving painting.
But before I sat down, I looked at Mary and Clara. "You two, sit down."
They immediately panicked. "N-no way, Mistress! We are maids, we shouldn't—"
"Who says you shouldn't?"
"It's… against noble etiquette…"
"What kind of etiquette is that? We are all human. Would I really have the heart to eat in front of you while you stand there staring at me? Don't you want to sit and rest here and keep me company? Wait… if you don't sit down, I will file a protest about that noble etiquette to the palace authorities," I said randomly. I would never dare to do that; my death might become even closer.
But both of them just stared at me in horror.
Some of the knights even looked down, torn between wanting to laugh and fearing dismissal.
Finally, with faces resigned to fate, Mary and Clara sat beside me.
The knights across from us—after a sharp glare from me—also took their seats.
"Good," I said, clapping my hands. "Now we are all equal in the face of dessert."
The waiter came with the menu list. My eyes immediately lit up.
Vanilla soufflé, chocolate mousse, honey cake, rose tea, apple tart…
All calling to my soul.
I looked at the maids who were still stiff as statues.
"Come on, order. Eat with me."
Mary stammered. "I-it's impossible, Mistress. We are not worthy—"
"Mary."
I looked at her with the most serious expression I could muster.
"If God created sugar, it means all humans have the right to enjoy it."
Mary and Clara exchanged looks as if they had just heard a revelation.
Finally, they sat awkwardly, staring at the menu like orphans gazing at heaven.
"What will you eat?" I asked enthusiastically.
They were silent. Just staring at each other, as if playing a mind-reading game.
"Fine," I said with a trembling voice. "Bring ALL the items on the menu."
The waiter almost dropped his notepad.
Mary looked at me as if she had just heard a bankruptcy verdict.
But Clara—the younger, more emotionally honest maid—was already cheering softly, "Long live Mistress Liliane!"
Before long, our table was filled with various desserts.
Cakes, mousse, tarts, soufflés, parfaits, and even something whose shape was unclear but sparkled like an expensive dream.
I stared at everything with glittering eyes. "Behold, this is what it feels like to be rich. The world feels sweet… and the wallet feels light."
The maids and knights nodded unanimously in profound realization.
We all stared at the food as if witnessing a sacred sight.
I picked up a fork. "To the kingdom, to love, and to rising blood sugar levels!"
The first bite felt like heaven dancing on my tongue.
The second bite—better than first love.
And by the third bite, I started thinking about marrying the chef.
"Amazing," I whispered. "If happiness could be eaten, this is what it would taste like."
Mary looked at me with resignation. "I just hope we don't get kicked out of this place for ordering the entire menu."
"If we get kicked out, we'll open our own branch: La Douce Liliane. Our motto: sweet life, sweet debt too."
We laughed.
It was truly a perfect atmosphere—warm, cheerful, and peaceful.
For the first time, I felt truly happy with life.
But then…
Something outside the window caught my attention.
The afternoon sun fell gently on the main street. People walked by with smiles.
And in the middle of that crowd—I saw three figures I knew very well.
My body immediately tensed up.
Lady Genevieve.
Golden blonde hair, soft blue eyes like the spring sky.
Crown Prince Edric.
A diplomatic smile that could make people forget the price of bread had risen.
And—Duke Tristan von Blackwood.
Cold face, perfect posture, and an aura that could freeze lava.
I was glued to the spot.
My spoon froze mid-air.
Mary called out to me softly, but I didn't answer.
The three main characters of the story—whom I had only read about in the novel—were standing down there.
Talking to each other, laughing softly… as if unaware that someone on the second floor was staring at them like a fangirl finding her favorite OTP.
My heart pounded.
No, this was more than a pound. This was—the surge of a fangirl's universe.
I stared at them without blinking, while inside me, a small voice screamed:
"Oh no… this is the beginning of the love triangle scene…!!!"
And for the first time in my life as a villainess, I felt like a hero watching her own drama from the VIP seat.