The bakery bustled with its usual mid-morning energy as Serys carefully placed a tray of freshly baked pear tarts on the counter. The scent of cloves and caramelized sugar filled the air, blending with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of teacups. The doorbell jingled, announcing the arrival of two new customers.

The pair—a man and a woman—were dressed in modest but neat clothes, their polite yet overly curious expressions marking them as out-of-place. They wandered around the bakery, inspecting the decor and lingering too long at the menu board. The man, tall and lean with a neatly trimmed beard, kept adjusting the brim of his hat. The woman, petite with a cascade of auburn curls, trailed her fingers along the edge of a display case as if searching for something unseen.

Serys watched them with a mix of curiosity and caution. She’d seen many customers in her weeks of running The Enchanted Hearth, but something about these two unsettled her. Their movements were too calculated, and their curiosity felt more like an investigation than mere interest.

As they approached the counter, Serys straightened, offering them a warm smile. "Welcome to The Enchanted Hearth!" she greeted. "What can I get for you?"

The man and woman exchanged a brief, whispered conversation, their heads bent together conspiratorially before they placed an order for pastries and tea. Serys couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, but she brushed it aside, serving them with her usual cheerful demeanor.

The two ate quietly, though Serys noticed their subtle glances at the other patrons, her staff, and even her baking setup. When they finished, the woman suddenly stood, clutching her stomach.

“I—I feel faint!” she exclaimed dramatically, holding her forehead with one hand, her voice ringing out across the room.

The man groaned and leaned against the counter. “M-me too! What kind of bakery is this? Your food poisoned us!”

“Check your food, everyone!” the woman added, fanning herself with one hand as she doubled over theatrically.

The other patrons exchanged worried glances, some inspecting their plates with hesitation, while others turned to Serys with alarmed expressions, silently seeking reassurance.

Serys stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “Everyone, please remain calm. I assure you that all our ingredients are fresh, and our kitchen is spotless. If anyone feels unwell, I will personally see to it that we find the cause.”

A hush fell over the bakery as tension filled the air. Just then, the door swung open with a forceful clang, drawing everyone's attention.

Rieze Crestfall strode in, the handle of his battle axe slung over his shoulder, flanked by a group of eager young adventurers hoping to apprentice at the bakery. 

“What’s going on here?” he asked calmly as he assessed the situation while his group of young adventurers followed him into the bakery. 

“They’re accusing me of food poisoning,” Serys said, crossing her arms.

Rieze approached the pair with quiet authority, sizing them up with a single glance.

“You don’t look poisoned to me,” he said, his voice steady. “Poisoned people don’t stand up and shout accusations in public. Where’s the vomit, the blood, the foam at the mouth, or the cold sweat?”

The man stammered, while the woman faltered under the intense scrutiny of Rieze’s of attention.

“I-I swear we felt ill after eating here! It must be something in the food!” the woman insisted, though her voice faltered.

One of the recruits, a young bard, piped up. “That’s impossible! Every ingredient Serys uses is of the highest quality—I’ve seen her work myself! I’ve eaten here every day this week, and I’ve never felt better!”

“We could do this two ways,” Rieze said, setting his axe down with a resounding thud that startled everyone in the bakery. “We can call the guards, and you can make a formal complaint, or you can apologize, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

Murmurs rippled through the patrons as they eyed the strangers suspiciously. Realizing they were cornered, the pair exchanged nervous glances before bowing their heads.

“W-we’re sorry,” the man mumbled. “We’re from Sunrise Bakes, and we… we wanted to see what made this place so popular.”

The woman added, “We thought stirring up trouble might help our business. It was wrong of us. Please forgive us.”

Serys sighed but managed a small smile despite sensing the half-heartedness of the apology. “Apology accepted. Next time, come as yourselves. I might not have as much experience running a bakery, but I’m happy to share advice if that’s what you need.”

Before she could say more, Gress entered with his usual boisterous energy. Spotting the rival bakers, he grinned.

“Well, well,” Gress said with mock surprise. “Looks like the competition came sniffing around. Too bad they forgot to bring talent with them.”

“Gress!” Serys scolded, though her tone was more amused than angry.

The rival bakers quickly excused themselves and rushed to the door, leaving Gress chuckling while the bakery patrons visibly relaxed.

Moments later, the bell above the door jingled again, announcing the arrival of a tall figure flanked by two armored guards. Everyone in the bakery bowed or curtsied in respect as Prince Sylvas of Zeltharia stepped inside. His commanding presence, with striking blue eyes and dark hair, was complemented by his silver-embroidered attire. He exuded regal confidence, instantly drawing the attention of the entire room.

“Lady Serys Larkwell,” he said with a charming smile. “I’ve heard much about your talents, both as a healer and now as a baker.”

Serys blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the royal visit. “W-welcome to The Enchanted Hearth, Your Highness. How can I help you?”

Prince Sylvas wasted no time. “I’ve come to personally request your aid. The royal court could use someone of your skills, and I believe you’d find our resources invaluable for your craft. What do you say?”

The bakery fell silent, all eyes on Serys. Failing to read the room, Gress playfully grabbed Rieze from behind, mockingly attempting to restrain him. Rieze responded with an annoyed swat, earning a round of stifled laughter.

Serys, however, remained composed. “I’m honored by your offer, Your Highness. But my place is here in Eldoria, serving adventurers and townsfolk alike.”

The prince raised an eyebrow. “Not even for the crown?”

“Not even for the crown,” she replied with a playful smile. “But please, sit. I insist you try our bread-and-butter pudding and coffee before you go. I promise they’re worth the trip.”

Prince Sylvas hesitated before breaking into a laugh. “Very well. But don’t think I’ll give up so easily, Lady Serys.”

The rest of the visit was filled with light-hearted conversation. Prince Sylvas enjoyed his time at The Enchanted Hearth, even tolerating Gress’s good-natured teasing. Rieze, however, remained watchful, wondering if the prince was a threat or merely an admirer of Serys. By the time they left, it seemed the prince had become just another friend—albeit one with a crown.

That weekend, during her day off, Serys sat in the guild house common room with a cup of tea, reflecting on the week’s events. Her enchanted pastries were drawing crowds, but she didn’t want to overshadow the other cafes and bakeries in Eldoria. The town thrived on its variety, and she valued the community they had built.

“I need to come up with something fair,” she murmured to herself. “Something that lets us all coexist while still giving adventurers what they need.”

The thought lingered as she watched the novices train in the courtyard, their laughter and the clash of steel bringing a smile to her face. As she sipped her tea, a sense of peace washed over her. Serys knew her journey as an adventurer was far from over, and her life as a baker was just beginning. With renewed determination, she rose from her seat, ready to face whatever challenges the future might bring, confident that her pastries would always bring joy and warmth to those who tasted them. For now, she would focus on what she could handle and appreciate—her bakery and the people who supported it.