"Everyone, everyone, please calm down! I promise I'll fire those chefs when I get back! Or—or I'll hand them over to you for punishment!" Teuton wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, his face flushed red. He knew full well this answer wouldn't satisfy them, but what else could he say?
"Oh dear, Princess, your plate has so many bugs! You didn't eat any, did you?" Sophie gasped dramatically, staring at Milta's dish.
"Ugh... *Bleh!*" Even though she *knew* the bugs had been added *after* she finished eating, the sight of a writhing, squirming pile of fresh insects was too much for Milta's just-filled stomach. "I *knew* I shouldn't have used bugs! *Bleh—!*"
Watching the little princess vomit violently, the guards panicked and swarmed around her. Sophie, meanwhile, hid a smirk. She hadn't expected the prank to backfire *this* perfectly—and on the *one* person they couldn't afford to offend!
"Princess, I swear I had no idea about this! I'll find out who did it and make sure they *suffer*!" Teuton's sweat poured like a waterfall, his hands flailing uselessly to mop it up.
Milta lifted her head and glared at him. "*Won't let me off easy*? *I* was the one who put the bugs there, so what now?!" Another glance at the half-full plate of bugs sent her retching again. The sheer *idea* was nauseating—even though she *hadn't* eaten any!
"Boss, don't panic. Let me help you out—come here, let's talk privately." Sophie played the peacemaker, leading Teuton to a secluded corner.
After some intense haggling, Sophie returned to the table like a triumphant general, while Teuton's face turned ashen—yet he still had to force a smile. The result was an expression more terrifying than a demon's.
"Milta, Auntie will give you a nice massage when we get back. Alright, let's go!" With a meaningful glance at the guards, Sophie ushered her group back to *Magic Doll*. The guards, taking the hint, immediately surrounded Teuton again.
*That damn woman! She extorted me and still left these thugs here!* Teuton cursed inwardly, but outwardly, he maintained his groveling smile. After another round of apologies, he reluctantly handed over **5,000 gold coins** as "compensation for emotional distress."
As the crowd finally dispersed, Teuton collapsed onto the floor, not caring about the remaining customers gawking at him. He slapped his thick thighs and wailed like a child.
But crying wouldn't bring back his losses. He still had to deliver his **treasured snow cone machine** to *Magic Doll*—the *real* reason for his breakdown. Money could be earned back, but that machine? *Irreplaceable.*
It had been a gift from an ice-magic master he'd once saved. The man had poured *all* his remaining mana into enchanting it. Where would he find another stranded ice mage now? And even if he did, not every one could craft a snow cone machine!
But compared to his *life*, it was just an object. A painful sacrifice, but better than losing everything. So, with a forced smile, Teuton sent his men to carry the machine to *Magic Doll*.
---
"Milta, I never knew you were such a *great* actress! You could win an Oscar!" Sophie praised the pale-faced princess loudly.
Yax and Charles also showered her with admiration, and even Bai, perched on Charles' shoulder, nodded approvingly—a rare gesture, since the fox usually couldn't be bothered.
Jones, Goodman, and Eva, mindful of their status, kept their distance but still watched with clear respect.
Flattered by the attention, Milta quickly forgot about the disgusting bugs and basked in the praise.
*Heh, kids are so easy to distract.* Sophie sighed in relief. If Milta had *actually* insisted on punishing Teuton, her plans would've gone up in smoke.
Though Milta had emptied her stomach, she still had no appetite. Sophie handed her some pastries, but the princess just grimaced.
After sending Charles, Yax, and Milta off to play with blocks, Sophie got to work. She cleared a room for the snow cone machine and adjusted the pricing—**10 silver coins** instead of Teuton's **50**. That way, more kids could afford it.
It was *pure profit*—just add water and syrup, no electricity needed. And with the fresh fruits from her Phoenix Bag, the flavors would be unbeatable.
Meanwhile, Teuton watched his restaurant's customers dwindle to nothing. Overnight, *all* of Lamibor had heard: *"Teuton's food made Princess Milta vomit!"* He'd become the city's public enemy.
The man who'd tried to sabotage Sophie now packed his bags and left the capital—the "golden nest" he'd lived in for **30 years**. Though his exit was humiliating, he still had **millions of gold** saved.
*Greed truly was his downfall.* If he could turn back time, he'd *never* have crossed Sophie—the woman he loathed but couldn't lay a finger on.
And that very woman?
Right now, she was licking a snow cone while gleefully counting her money. *"Five, ten, fifteen, twenty..."*
For the first time, Sophie understood the phrase *"counting money until your hands cramp."* It wasn't just *satisfying*—it was *euphoric*.
With a steady income, she became generous, handing out free snow cones to neighborhood kids. Charles, too, carried a few in his bag for Yax and Milta at school.
Since moving into *Magic Doll*, Yax and Milta had become regulars. Besides playing with Charles, they had a *glorious* mission: **testing new toys before anyone else.**
Even a princess couldn't resist that privilege.
---
As usual, Charles walked to the Royal Magic Academy with Bai on his shoulder and a snow cone in hand, humming cheerfully. Most kids couldn't multitask like this.
*Wonder what Milta will bring today? And Yax's weekly gift should arrive too. Having a dad is great—getting presents every week!*
Distracted, Charles nearly shoved the snow cone up his nose.
Suddenly, he sensed someone behind him. He spun around—and froze.
A beautiful little girl, no older than four, stood there clutching a bouquet of flowers, her big eyes fixed on him.
*Does she... like me? Is she going to confess?* Charles' mind short-circuited.
Bai, perched on his shoulder, tilted his head. *Why is this kid spacing out?*
**Will Charles handle his first admirer—or make a fool of himself?**