Seeing Sophie's confusion, Milta elaborated. "I'll provide the people, money, and materials to make these dolls. You just need to teach my maids how to make them. After costs, we split the profits—70% for me, 30% for you!"
"*You* get 70%?" Sophie stared at the six-year-old. *What's in this kid's head? First 'love rivals,' now business deals—is she a transmigrator too?*
"Of course! I'm supplying everything. You're just contributing labor—30% is generous!" Milta said seriously.
Sophie smirked. "I can make *other* things too, worth far more than 30%. Make it 40%, and I'll consider it."
"Deal!" Milta thrust out a tiny fist.
Baffled, Sophie hesitated until Yakth whispered, "You have to seal agreements with a fist bump here!"
Sophie tapped Milta's fist—her first interworld contract was official.
Curious, Sophie asked, "Who taught you all this? You're a business prodigy!"
Milta beamed. "My third brother! He says I'm the smartest merchant he knows and promised me half his business someday!"
*Third brother?* Sophie mused. *First a terrifying second brother, now a shrewd third—royals really are a mixed bag.*
"But… I don't actually know *how* to run a shop," Milta admitted, shrinking a little.
Sophie grinned. *All theory, no practice!* "I can handle the shop, but I've no funds. If I'm managing it, we split profits *50-50*."
"Fine! Tell the steward what you need—he'll arrange everything." Milta cared less about money than impressing her father, just like her brother did.
With materials and staff settled, only the location remained. The next day, Sophie—with Charles, Little White, and Yakth (her walking wallet)—scouted the streets.
A quaint café caught her eye. Though she'd eaten breakfast, the aromas lured her in. *Might as well study the décor while eating!* She ordered a feast.
"Mom, we want that too!" A familiar voice made Sophie turn. At the next table sat Eva and her twins—minus their father. A single empty plate sat before them.
The children stared longingly at a boy licking a frosty treat—something resembling ice cream.
"Jones, Goodman, those make you sick!" Eva lied smoothly.
The shopkeeper snorted. "Can't afford it, so you scare the kids? Pathetic."
Eva flushed. She slapped a coin on the counter—half their fortnight's budget—and bought two treats. The twins' joy was worth it.
Spotting Sophie's lavish spread, Eva hesitated when invited over.
"I'm renting a shop," Sophie explained. "Know any good locations?"
Eva brightened. "Our house is at a crossroads—spacious, inherited. We could rent it to you."
"Where would you live?"
"We'd manage." Eva's quick reply hinted at desperation. She confessed their plight: Once minor nobles, the Adelards had dwindled to just her husband Claude, who drowned his failures in drink. Renting their home would fund the twins' schooling.
Touched, Sophie offered jobs—Eva as manager, Claude as salesman—letting them stay upstairs.
Overjoyed, Eva agreed. Workers renovated the house: downstairs for sales, upstairs for production. Sophie even hung two red lanterns by the door—Lamipore's first—lit by candles at night.
As Milta's maids mastered doll-making, Sophie arranged the shop. The children "helped," mostly launching doll battles.
By dawn, everything was ready—colorful dolls, Earth-inspired trinkets, and eager staff. Lamipore's newest surprise awaited its grand reveal.
*But will the city embrace it?*