The Minister of Palace Internal Affairs hadn’t gone far. Hazel caught him just beyond the path leading from the temporary wall around her farm, exasperatedly brushing the dust off his clothes.

“What a tiring day!” he grumbled to himself, before straightening up and setting off again. A few palace attendants chit-chatting in the distance noticed him coming and immediately dumped the coffee in their hands into the ground in a fluster.

Hazel’s eyes widened in shock. What! They just wasted all that expensive coffee!

As the deeply aromatic fragrance of the coffee spread throughout the night air, the attendants agitatedly fanned their hands, trying to direct the scent away. The minister seemed visibly annoyed at their reaction.

“I said you don’t have to do that!” he snapped.

No, it wasn’t because he was afraid of the coffee.

Hazel finally came to a realization. The minister’s complexion, his attitude... It was like a light went off in her head. She sprinted forward, completely forgetting that she was supposed to be secretly tailing him.

“Mister Minister!” she yelled at the top of her voice.

The minister jumped and froze in his tracks. It was undoubtedly her voice—that shameless landowner lady. Why was she following him?

“You’re forbidden from drinking coffee, aren’t you?” Hazel said breathlessly. “You want it so badly, but you can’t have any, right?”

The minister was startled once more, and his shoulders flinched. Hazel clearly saw the way he reacted. That’s it. That’s the answer.

“All right! You keep your word and come over tomorrow, okay? You didn’t touch any of the tea and snacks I gave you, remember? As the homeowner, I was terribly offended! This time, you won’t be able to refuse!”

And with that declaration, she marched away.

Unable to help himself, the minister spun around and watched the young lady speed down the walking path of the Grand Garden and disappear out of sight.

He quietly frowned.

“What was that about?”

Back at home, Hazel hurried to her backyard. She found what she wanted and dug up an entire basket. Then she picked out the very best ones and thought hard to herself as she washed and dried them.

I need to pair it with a snack. The biscuits in Hazel’s treasure box were considered a luxury to her, but upon second thought she regretted having served them. I should put more effort into it.

She already had flour and sugar, and although it wasn’t farm-fresh, she had some decent-quality butter too. She was just missing the key ingredient. Hazel stepped back outside. Perhaps it was because of this so-called prohibition order, but none of the imperial guards dared to say a word to the young woman in the straw hat strolling around the Grand Garden with a basket in her hand. She occasionally ran into a few aristocrats, but their gazes swept right past her too.

This was all very convenient. Hazel could now explore the Grand Garden to her heart’s desire, not having to worry about anything or anyone. After wandering for a bit, she finally discovered something good: wild bushberries growing in a dark corner of the maze garden.

She’d been told that fruits could be picked as long as they weren’t fenced off, in a greenhouse, or growing in a private residential garden because picking them was far cleaner than letting them fall and be trampled all over. Years ago, when she’d visited the palace with her grandfather, the old chamberlain had explained this to the tourists.

Excellent! Hazel excitedly made her way over to the bushberries. Just then...

“Oh, I don’t know... I doubt it would ever head that way.”

A group of ladies in glamorous dresses appeared in the darkness. And of all places, they chose to sit down on the bench in front of the bushberries as they chattered among themselves.

“I heard he’s attending the ball with Lady L’Arpege again. I’m so jealous.”

“What’s there to be jealous about? The only reason she can stay next to His Majesty is because he has no idea how his cousin feels. If he ever learns that she loves him with all her heart, I’m sure he won’t hesitate to push her away.”

“But at this rate, Lady L’Arpege will be able to win him over, don’t you think? She’s smart enough not to let her feelings show... And she’s just so pretty. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as her. I wish I could just live for one day with her face.”

“Me too. If I could live as Lady Athena L’Arpege for just one day, and hold hands with His Majesty...”

“That’s not what I want. I wish His Majesty wasn’t the emperor, but just a regular knight. No, I’d rather he was someone poor.”

“Oh, poor Miss Langford! You’ve fallen hard for him, haven’t you? Don’t let anyone know. That is, if you want to keep seeing His Majesty from a distance.”

The ladies continued to chat, their conversation sprinkled with sighs and giggles here and there. Hazel remained still in the darkness. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to get caught, nor was it because of a newfound interest in palace gossip.

She was quiet for one reason only: If she scared the ladies and made them jump to their feet, the bushberries would all fall off and be stepped on.

Indeed, Hazel’s head was only filled with thoughts about the fruit. She patiently waited for the ladies to finish talking and leave, then hurried out and picked the bushberries. Nobody tended to these bushes, so they were full of plump and juicy berries. After filling her basket to the brim, Hazel looked proudly down at her harvest.

This would be enough.

Hazel crossed the dewy night grass back home and got to work. She trimmed, she toasted, she ground, she kneaded, she baked... As she busily went back and forth in her kitchen, completely absorbed in her task at hand, the skies lightened into a misty blue outside.

* * *

In that same dawn light, the Minister of Palace Internal Affairs was tossing and turning in his bed.

“This time, you won’t be able to refuse!”

He couldn’t stop thinking about what that woman had said, that shameless, ruined aristocratic lady who dared to occupy the land in the garden next to His Majesty’s residence.

What could she have meant by that?

He tossed and turned and turned and tossed before, eventually, sitting up. He needed to wake early anyway. His goal was to drive out that impudent speculator before starting his work for the day. Then he would report to His Majesty and tell him it was all taken care of.

The minister quickly got ready and left his bedchamber. The guards were just changing shifts in front of the main palace. As he passed by, he casually said, “Stop by the Grand Garden construction site before taking your break. There’s a site to demolish.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then he hurried on his way. He sped down the walking path now glistening with dew drops, then stepped into the tiny patch of land surrounded by a temporary wall.

The old house was quiet.

Oh, good. He didn’t need to wake up the intruder—just one look around, and he’d be able to find several dozen violations and finally kick her out. The minister tentatively pushed open the door, then stiffened at what he saw.

“Good morning,” Hazel said from the dining table, leaping to her feet. She seemed to have been up all night, for there were dark shadows underneath her eyes, but her expression was as bright as ever. “I told you last night, remember? You won’t be able to refuse!” she said, presenting the drink she’d prepared for him this time.

It was coffee.

Rich, hot coffee, sending up wafts of steam from a white teacup. The entire house was full of its fragrance.

Before he could stop himself, the minister angrily burst out, “You wicked girl! You know I can’t drink coffee!”

But Hazel only crinkled her eyes in a smile. “Just have a sip,” she insisted. “This one’s different.”

Truth be told, his sharp sense of smell was already telling him that this coffee was not like the others. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly... but it didn’t seem harmful.

The minister cautiously picked up the warm cup. When was the last time he’d had coffee?

The deep aroma of the coffee was so lovely he thought he might cry. Count Albert soothed and filled his heart with the fragrance first, then took a small sip.

His eyes shot open in surprise.

“What is this?” he asked.

Hazel replied, “It’s peasants’ coffee.”

“Peasants’ coffee?”

“Coffee made of chicory.”

The minister gaped at Hazel’s twinkling eyes, utterly flabbergasted.

“Chicory,” he repeated. “Chicory...”

He’d heard of the name before. Count Albert flipped through the encyclopedia of miscellaneous, hardly-used information in his head and barely managed to find it.

Chicory: a weed that grows just about anywhere.

Had she actually made coffee out of it? Unable to believe it, he took another sip. It was rich yet smooth, and delicate. Both his nose and tongue confirmed that this was, without a doubt, coffee. It felt like a lie.

“How is this possible?”

“If you toast chicory roots and grind them into powder, it can be used as a coffee alternative. It tastes quite similar, you see. There are differences, of course, but I know how to toast it just right to make it taste nearly the same.”

“I see...” the minister said in awe. Then he froze in place. What am I doing right now?

He’d been too distracted by the coffee and had ended up going against His Majesty’s imperial order. He had made conversation with the lady whom he was prohibited from acknowledging. The minister’s face blanched as he fell into a panic.

Then he noticed the lady calmly pointing at her table, where she’d placed her straw hat. She’d tactfully and discreetly placed it there in advance. Was she being considerate, making it so that he’d make conversation with the hat instead?

Why, would you look at this young lady… The minister felt like he was possessed by something as he took his seat. Clutching the coffee cup tightly with both hands, he continued to savor the delicious coffee, sip by sip.

“Oh, I feel so much better!” he found himself exclaiming. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this scent and flavor! Well, I might as well say it. I’m actually a coffee addict. No matter how brutal work was at the palace, just one cup of coffee and I’d magically find the energy somehow. That’s why I drank seven, eight cups a day.”

“Wow! No wonder you fell sick from it.”

“Indeed. At some point, I started feeling dizzy and nauseated. My heart would pound, and I couldn’t sleep at night. The doctor warned me that unless I quit coffee right away, I might just collapse and die one day. That’s when all the misery began. It was plain torture, quitting the coffee I’d been drinking every single day. But do you know what the hardest part was? It was seeing my subordinates make such a big fuss and throw away their own coffee whenever they ran into me. That hurt my feelings a lot!” The minister complained and complained to the straw hat. “To be honest, I’ve actually snuck a sip or two a few times because I couldn’t take it. But my body rejects it now. My stomach churns and my heart starts racing. But this is different. This coffee... makes me feel comforted inside!”

“That’s right,” Hazel said, nodding with a smile. “Chicory is a healthy plant. The roots help with digestion and make your stomach stronger. And as I said before, chicory coffee is a peasant drink. The poor peasants discovered it because they couldn’t afford expensive coffee, but it turned out to be healthy as well! Wouldn’t you call it a gift from nature? Even the most useless of weeds can serve some sort of purpose.”

At her words, the minister came to a moment of realization. “I see!” he exclaimed. “That’s what it was! Now I know.”

“Know what?”

“I’m sure it was quite the laborious process, toasting the roots and grinding it to make the coffee. You didn’t even sleep at night just so you could tell me about this. I bet you wanted to teach me a lesson because I offended you by saying farming is useless!”

“Huh?” This time, Hazel was puzzled. “No, it’s not like that at all.”

“It’s not?”

The minister stared bemusedly at Hazel.

“Then why did you do it?”