Chapter 23

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: The Princess Only Deals in the Real Thing 30

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“Right? A festival right here in our street!”

The agenda for the general meeting was none other than the festival.

‘Of course, our shop won’t rake in a fortune during the festival.’

As a pawnshop, we couldn’t run discounts or giveaways.

I’d even considered a free appraisal event, but that was obviously impossible.

I only had one body, and I couldn’t handle the flood of appraisal requests that would pour in.

That’s when Hanna’s words popped into my head.

“Wow, I had no idea a place like this existed in the capital. I would’ve come ages ago if I’d known!”

Hanna had dropped a whopping two million gold in one go.

There had to be more big spenders like her—people who could afford it but either didn’t know about the pawnshop or found the entry barrier too high to bother visiting.

So why not...?

‘Turn the festival into a publicity opportunity. That’s worth way more than immediate cash.’

I already had a plan in mind.

This was the first festival ever in Ashen Street.

‘Everyone’s gonna be buzzing about how some gloomy dump like this is throwing a festival. But hey, bad press is still press.’

Free noise marketing. The attention would be massive.

If I pulled it off right, it’d draw in more customers than word-of-mouth ever could.

“I’m so excited! When the festival hits, we’ll get tons of visitors, right? I hope people swarm in and buy heaps of our shoes.”

“Me too, I can’t wait. See you at the guild hall later!”

The customer who’d bought the stamps was the shoe shop owner.

I saw her off with a smile and was organizing the safe when—ding!—I bolted upright at the sound.

“A telegram!”

The paper spitting out from the telegraph machine had the Intelligence Guild’s mark stamped at the end.

‘William’s already on the job. Fast as ever.’

I pulled out the spray he’d sent along with the telegraph machine.

It was a special solution. The writing only showed up while the paper was soaked in it; once it evaporated, the page went blank again. Pretty solid security.

What did the telegram say?

I spritzed it eagerly, then frowned at the revealed text.

Hello, young boss. Just in case you were hoping, this isn’t about rumors among the nobles.

But as a member of this street’s guild, you need to know this ASAP, so I’m sending it in a rush.

What kind of news could it be?

I read on, curiosity piqued, and had to agree with William.

The Imperial Palace is issuing new permit forms to merchants.

Meaning, if you don’t comply with the new forms, you’ll be shut down.

The grace period’s ridiculously short, and worst of all, they’re prioritizing Ashen Street?

‘No permit, and you’re closed for good?’

This had happened just before dawn today, so I hadn’t gotten the updated details yet, but my gut was screaming bad news.

I knew the higher-ups hated this street, but this was way too aggressive, don’t you think?

Anyway, brace yourself. That’s all for now.

I folded the telegram with a heavy sigh, running a hand through my hair.

Something about it rang a bell. My mind flashed to an incident just a few days ago.

‘Feels just like that banned book fiasco. Shady business dressed up as legit procedure. And it takes pull from the top to pull off... No way, is this...’

What if Rozanne Viscountess was targeting my pawnshop?

I bit my lip and fired off two telegrams right away.

One went to William: Let me know who pushed for the permit form law change.

And the other...

‘Hanna. She’s the Imperial Palace document officer. Permits would’ve crossed her desk!’

To Hanna: Could you share the new permit form in advance?

While waiting for replies, I mulled over what I knew about Rozanne.

‘Hugo’s terrified of Grandfather like he’s the boogeyman, but Rozanne’s different.’

In my past life, when I refused to sign till the end, Hugo had dragged in other relatives.

Rozanne stood out the most. Not because of her icy looks.

She didn’t even glance at me—just strode straight to Grandfather.

I’d never forget what she said, staring down at him as he lay comatose.

“Ha! Uncle, so this is how it ends for you!”

Her voice dripped with madness, her eyes gleaming with raw triumph.

‘Rozanne harbored an inferiority complex toward Grandfather. Even after he was excommunicated and left, his presence lingered.’

The family’s fall from grace without him. The wrecked finances.

Instead of fighting to fix it, Rozanne must’ve burned with jealousy and resentment toward him.

‘He was an unbreakable wall her whole life. Seeing him laid low by illness? Probably felt like she’d finally won.’

Three years with her, in that fractured state of mind—must’ve been hell for Grandfather.

I clenched my fist tight.

The paper crumpled pitifully in my grip.

“Are you open for business?”

A voice called out.

I looked up to see a man standing at the door.

I was a bit thrown. Not because he’d appeared out of nowhere, but...

‘Oof, he’s blinding.’

My eyes literally hurt to look at him.

Was it the vivid blond hair reflecting the sunlight? Or the pristine white clothes?

A halo-like glow seemed to envelop him.

Anyway, I shook my head and flashed my best customer-service smile.

No letting my mood sour my attitude.

“Yes, we’re open. Hello! Sorry for the wait.”

“No need. Mind if I look around the shop?”

‘Whoa, such a polite customer. First time for everything.’

Unlike some people, I wasn’t about to make this mannerly gentleman stand around!

I gestured warmly, channeling maximum hospitality.

“Of course! Take your time.”

“Thank you, then.”

As he stepped inside, the glow orbiting him vanished like a lie.

Guess it was just the sunlight.

I watched him browse the shop slowly.

‘He looks like a prince straight out of a fairy tale.’

Golden blond hair, sea-blue eyes—deep enough to shade into turquoise.

Tall, dressed head to toe in white. Like he’d leaped from a storybook.

Subjective, sure, given my Cerberus upbringing, but still.

‘Hmm, speaking of, isn’t that a knight’s uniform?’

The high-ranking knights in the papers always wore ornate dress uniforms dripping with accessories.

This guy had just one chunky gold brooch. Made me wonder.

But up close, I got it. The strap for a ceremonial sword—definitely a uniform.

Which meant...?

‘Don’t tell me he’s here for an investigation...!’

Grandfather had mentioned knights occasionally dropping by for cooperation on cases.

Few accessories? Probably a low-rank knight.

‘If it’s official business, I’d better play nice.’

I rummaged for my business cards and looked up—somehow, he was right in front of me.

No footsteps I could hear. When’d he sneak up?

I plastered on the sales smile, but he was staring at his own brooch, not me.

‘Weird. The brooch is flickering.’

He watched the light pulsing on it, then let out a short sigh.

For a split second, his picture-perfect, emotionless face flickered with complexity.

Like he was enduring something.

‘Tough gig being a low-rank knight, huh?’

He schooled his features back to neutral and spoke.

“Are you the owner here?”

“Yes. Can I help you?”

Fair enough. Physical work’s gotta be rough.

Maybe hunting for training weapons or magic tools?

“I see.”

But his next words made me rethink everything.

Prince? Yeah, right. Total misread.

“Who gave you permission to operate here?”

‘......This jerk’s no knight.’

Just a thug, then...