The second customer gaped. “They should’ve sent their maids. Why would someone from the imperial family buy cake in person? They always send their servants.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” said the first. “That woman’s intention must’ve been to recruit Shea—not that she had any chance of succeeding.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not as though Shea Grande needs the money. And can you even imagine her showing up to work on time?”

“Oh.”

Judging by the way she ran her café, it was obvious. It made sense that she hated the imperial family.

The emperor felt an odd sense of comradery with Shea.

Shea’s expression turned into a grimace as the man’s retelling brought back the memory of that incident. She turned to Lucy with annoyance. “Kick them out.”

My mood is ruined, so I’m closing the café is what she meant.

Those who had already taken a seat didn’t make a sound, but the customers still standing in line screamed.

“No!”

“I haven’t bought anything yet!”

“Who knows when the menu will be so extensive again!?”

“Nooo!”

The customers who had already made their purchases and were happily digging in now faced the prospect of their happiness being interrupted. They quickly made a decision. Here, where Shea was sovereign, all other authority and rank were meaningless, so they had nothing to fear.

“What are you waiting for?” they cried. “Kick them out. They dared to ruin the great Shea Grande’s mood, so they’re guilty. No mercy!”

“Hear, hear!”

“Kick him out!”

And that was how the tyrant Eid Roux Vencroft first experienced being kicked out of an establishment—and Edward van Griffith along with him. They’d experienced being begged to attend events and to stay longer, but being made to leave was a first. They stared at the door in disbelief, but it was slammed shut in their faces without a moment’s hesitation.

What was even more ridiculous was that the emperor’s bodyguard and secretary had betrayed him for a slice of cake. What kind of world were they living in? It was a historic day. The most powerful man in the empire—the emperor himself—had been kicked out for the first time, along with the son of Marquess Griffith.

As they let out exasperated huffs, Shea’s voice rose from within the café. “Go and salt the entrance.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“We have to ward off evil spirits.”

Evil spirits? Wow. Eid and Edward could do nothing but laugh in exasperation as they made their way back to the palace. Neither wanted to be covered in salt.

They glanced back at the café. The name of the place was burned into their memories. They would probably never be able to forget it. Neither would they forget Shea, who clearly outranked the emperor inside her café.

“Well, we’re pathetic,” the emperor said.

“…”

They could almost hear Shea’s voice saying, “You are not welcome at Sangria.” It was as if they were both hearing things.

And they both started thinking.

Maybe we should go back?

***

“Welc—oh, aren’t you…”

“Excuse us.” Eid pushed past relentlessly along with Edward.

There was a reason these were two of the most powerful men in the empire. From Shea’s perspective, they were unnecessarily driven, persistent, and unrelenting. With an obvious air of superior class, they stood out like sore thumbs among the other customers. Everyone’s eyes fixed on them. The two men, used to people staring at their good looks and noble aura, ignored them.

Lucy, however, seemed unfazed, perhaps because the owner of Sangria was so unusual herself. She led the two men to an empty table. “Would you like to order?”

Eid casually scanned the menu. “What does ‘Today’s Special’ mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. It changes every day. It’s whatever is left over from what the owner cooks, to be specific. Today’s special is beef stew.”

“You’re selling leftovers?” Eid’s eyebrows furrowed at the thought. This was unacceptable for any normal restaurant—any restaurant, really.

She waved her hands in denial. “Oh, no, it’s not like that. We don’t actually sell leftovers. The owner would hate that. She tends to cook a lot of food at once, so whenever she does, we set aside enough for us to eat and sell the rest. She never intended to add home-cooked meals to the menu, but the customers kept asking, so she did.”

Even Lucy thought it was a bit absurd.

Shea had been so exasperated by the regulars who begged to try anything they smelled coming from the kitchen that she had relented. “Pay for it, then.”

They’d been all too glad to do so. She was generous with her food, and from then on, every customer asked to taste her cooking. In the end, the home-cooked meals were added to the menu as Today’s Special. Things like this happened a lot at Sangria. Shea had opened the place at least partially for fun.

“It costs three silver,” Lucy said.

Three pieces of silver were a little less than what a commoner spent on a day’s worth of food. You could afford a satisfying meal at most restaurants with one silver coin, so the price wasn’t entirely ridiculous. High-end restaurants frequented by nobles charged more. The price at Sangria was somewhere in between, a small luxury for commoners and reasonable for officials and the average noble.

“There must be a lot of demand,” Eid observed.

“There’s never enough to go around.”

“Then I’ll take the special.”

“Me too,” Edward added.

Lucy jotted down their orders. “You’re in luck today. We have exactly two portions left.”

“What?” Eid gasped.

It was only ten o’clock in the morning. The café had only been open about an hour. Does that mean the owner doesn’t make much, or was demand that high?

Without saying anything to satisfy their curiosity, Lucy headed back toward the kitchen.

The other customers who’d been waiting for their friends grimaced, and the emperor felt a headache coming on at the thought of how many people were cursing them. At Sangria, you couldn’t order more than you could eat yourself. Otherwise, there would be complaints, and although Sangria wouldn’t lose any money, Shea had decided to create this rule in the interest of fairness. It prevented any one customer from buying up the day’s stock, ensuring that everyone got a chance at what they so desperately wanted. It was thanks to such wise decisions by the owner that the café was able to run normally, even with its unusual rules.

The food was served quickly—it was only natural—since it had been prepared ahead of time. The food was nicely presented: a bowl of beef stew with a fresh salad and a piece of rye bread that appeared to have been homemade as well.

It was a simple meal, nothing extravagant.

“Please enjoy.”

The two men each took a spoonful of stew, not expecting much.

“…!”

Their eyes opened wide.

Even though they were used to high-class cuisine, this ordinary beef stew was incredible.

The customers next to them who were eating the same thing let out exclamations of wonder. “Oh, this is fantastic. Nowhere else serves food that tastes this amazing. This is why I keep coming back to this place.”

“I’m so glad Shea made so much food today,” said another.

“She’s generous with her portions and makes even more when it comes to stews.”

“Lucky for us.”

“Her steaks are the best as well, but she usually makes so much sauce that she runs out of meat before she can sell the sauce. We’ve had to bring our own meat before.”

Another customer laughed at that comment. “Haha, that’s right. But I’d be happy to bring my own meat if I got some of her amazing sauce.”

“Her steaks are amazing as well.”

One of the customers told about eating a steak at Sangria, licking his lips as if remembering the taste. “It’s only a measly piece of steak, but it was unbelievable. It tastes so much better when she cooks her own meat instead of when we bring our own.”

“That’s because she marinates the steak to make it tender.”

“I heard the butcher gives Shea a lot more meat than she orders, so he can come have some of her steak himself.”

“Haha! Doesn’t she order a lot more than necessary to begin with? She always says it’s better to have leftovers than not enough.”

“It’s great for us, since it means she’ll cook more if we keep asking.”

“I should go and butter up the butcher.”

“Shea gets so many ingredients so she can make a lot, especially when it comes to stew. She says she doesn’t like having leftover ingredients.”

They agreed to be grateful to Shea as they enjoyed their food. Eid looked around the café. Ninety percent of the customers were eating the special. It certainly would have been a lot of food to eat on her own. It made sense that she was generous with her portions.

Eid and Edward completely emptied their bowls most uncharacteristically for high-ranking nobles.

Shea emerged from the kitchen with a tray of bread.

The customers’ eyes widened. “Yes! Blueberry bagels!”

“Shea, here! I’ll take one now, with cream cheese on it.”

“Do it yourself,” she said.

“Hand over a bagel! Quick!”

“One silver coin,” she replied.

“Here, take it!”

Everyone lined up when they heard the price. Everything here at the café, besides the special, seemed to cost one silver coin. They wondered if the owner couldn’t be bothered to do math.

Eid and Edward joined the queue among the other customers, no longer seeming to care about appearances, though that seemed to be the common denominator among Sangria’s customers.

A new customer arrived at that very moment.

“Huh? It’s the head of the magic tower!” whispered a customer near the emperor.

“What…? Nooo! He’s going to buy everything in stock.”

“He always does that when there are blueberry bagels for sale… that blueberry addict!”

“That only applies to the blueberries at Sangria.”