"My bread is too hard!"
In a small bakery called 'Wheat Tail' in the royal capital, former Sixth Princess Pavoria Reine is walking a new path in life. But her peaceful bakery is suddenly overrun by a cast of eccentrics. There's a wizard from the next town trying to save on food expenses, a former hero who can't read the menu despite legendary swordsmanship, and the castle's head maid who somehow gets mistaken for a customer. Every time someone asks Reine for softer bread, her kneading hands get
Pavoria Reine's Tomorrow: Which Way? - Hard Bread and the Answer of Two Who Can't Be Honest
The morning light dyed the cobblestones of Forna Central Market gold.
"[excited]Here it is, right here! This is our stall space!"
Reine clutched a large bundle and dashed over to the designated spot in the square. Her waist-length golden curls were, as usual today, haphazardly braided to one side by her own hand. A little messy, but the ribbon on her apron was tied in a perfect bow.
"[serious]Now then, let's begin the preparations."
She opened the bundle, and hard bread peeked out from within. Hard-baked barley bread, aged overnight. The surface was nicely browned, so hard it seemed like it would make a clunking sound if tapped.
Just as she was about to carry over the stand to display them—
"[simple]Hey. I brought the stand."
Gran appeared, lumbering over. His short, fiery red hair had bangs that fell over his eyes. His massive frame, nearly 190 centimeters tall, stood out anywhere in the market. In both arms, he casually carried two stands.
"[surprised]Oh my, thank you! ...Wait, huh? Gran, where did you take them?"
Reine looked around. There were no stands in their stall space.
"[simple]Over there."
Gran jerked his chin toward the opposite side of the square. Far in the distance, two stands sat all alone. Far too far away.
"[angry]That's way too far! Why would you put them all the way over there?!"
"[simple]Nobody was there, so it was easy to put them down."
"[crying]That's not because nobody was there—that's just not a stall space...!"
"[serious]Don't worry, I'll go get them!"
A girl with silver hair streaked with two lines of purple dashed out energetically. Her shoulder-length hair swayed, and the three freckles on her right cheek formed a little triangle.
But—
"[serious]Wait."
A chestnut-brown chignon, neatly tied at the back. Calm gray eyes. A small silver watch at her chest. Dorothea grabbed Milphy firmly by the shoulder.
"[cold]You trip when you run. And last time, you were the one who made the bread glow with light magic. No magic today. Is that clear?"
"[sad]Ehhh~?! But I want to be useful!"
"[cold]If you want to be useful, then first, stay put and behave. I will retrieve the stands."
So saying, Dorothea strode briskly toward the opposite side of the square. Her back was perfectly straight, her stride unwavering. In no time, she had retrieved both stands and arranged them neatly in their stall space.
"[serious]Lady Reine. Will these stands suffice?"
"[gentle]Ah, y-yes... Thank you, Dorothea."
"[sad]...Am I really useless after all?"
Milphy's shoulders drooped dejectedly.
"[gentle]That's not true at all. ...In that case, Milphy, could you hold this for me?"
Reine handed Milphy the flag with the wheat tail on it. It had a picture of a cat holding a stalk of wheat in its mouth.
"[excited]You'll be our flag bearer! Will you do it?"
"[excited]Yeah! Leave it to me! I won't drop a flag, and I won't make it glow either!"
Milphy gripped the flag with both hands and bounced lightly.
Beside her, Gran stood there, at a loose end.
"[simple]...What should I do?"
"[serious]Just stand there. ...For some reason, that alone puts me at ease."
"[simple]Got it."
Gran truly did nothing but stand there. But his huge body somehow felt like a wall.
(*It's strange. Just having him here is reassuring.*)
Reine smiled a little.
The preparations were complete, and the hard bread was lined up on the stand.
A large crowd had already gathered in the square. The eve of the autumn harvest festival—the bread competition hosted by the Forna Bakers' Guild. Bakeries from all over Forna had set up stalls, competing with their proudest breads.
Across the street, directly opposite, was a conspicuously white tent. The sign read "Panifique." Beneath it, a man with long, silver-gray hair tied back was watching them with cold blue eyes.
It was Sein.
"[cold]Still looking like a rustic little stall, Pavo."
He deliberately threw those words at her as he passed by.
"[serious]Our handmade charm is our selling point. And what about you? All alone today?"
"[cold]My staff are inside making final adjustments. I'm just doing reconnaissance."
"[sarcastic]Reconnaissance. How diligent of you."
Their gazes clashed. Blue eyes against blue eyes.
The one to look away first was Sein.
"[cold]...I'll be praying you don't embarrass yourself too badly."
Leaving only those words, Sein returned to his own tent.
"[angry]...Honestly! That way of talking!"
"[serious]Now, now, Lady Reine. The best thing to do with his type is ignore them."
"[excited]But you know, Sein, for all his talk, he really does care about Reine! He came to see you, I'm sure of it!"
"[shy]...There's no way that's true."
Reine murmured quietly.
But deep in her chest, there was a small pang.
(*Master...*)
Just then—
*Boom-boom-boom-boom...!*
The sound of drums, like a rumbling of the earth, echoed out.
The competition had begun.
On the central stage, three judges took their places. They were the leading figures of the Forna Bakers' Guild. In the center was Golda Meizen. An elderly woman with streaks of white in her hair. She wore a rumpled apron, but her eyes alone gleamed sharply.
"[serious]We shall now commence the bread competition! Stallholders, bring your proudest creations before the judges!"
Their turn came around.
Reine took one deep breath. She placed the hard-baked barley bread on a wooden plate and stepped forward before the judges.
"[serious]This is the entry from 'Wheat Tail.' Please, help yourselves."
She presented the bread.
One of the judges accepted it.
"...Hmm."
The moment he took it, he furrowed his brow. It was heavy in his hand.
"This is... remarkably hard."
"Isn't it a bit *too* hard?"
A murmur arose from the audience seats, too.
"What's that, bread like a rock?" "I've never heard of hard bread in Forna." "That shop's the one that made glowing bread recently, right?"
Whispered voices, loud enough to be heard.
Reine bit her lip.
But—she wouldn't run.
"[serious]...This is a hard-baked barley bread, aged overnight to mature. Please do not eat it as is, but enjoy it paired with cheese and soup."
Reine presented the cheese and warm vegetable soup she had prepared.
Golda grinned.
"[gentle]Hmph. Give it a try."
Reluctantly, the judges broke the bread into bite-sized pieces.
*Cr-cr-crack...*
The hard sound echoed through the quiet venue.
Even so, they somehow managed to put it in their mouths.
The first judge.
"...Hm?"
The second judge.
"...This is..."
The third judge.
"...!"
Silence.
No one said a word.
Only the sound of chewing bread continued.
With every bite, the sweetness of the wheat spread slowly. It wasn't just hard. A deep flavor gradually filled the mouth.
The first judge took a sip of the soup.
And then bit into the bread again.
The second judge also began eating it with cheese on top.
The third judge chewed and chewed, over and over.
The venue fell completely silent.
The whispering voices from just moments ago had vanished as if they were a lie.
"[whispers]...This is..."
The first judge finally opened his mouth.
"...How should I put it..."
He looked up at the ceiling, as if searching for words.
"[excited]The more you chew, the sweeter it gets...! It tastes more of wheat than any bread I've ever eaten!"
The second judge exclaimed loudly.
The venue began to stir.
"It's hard, but... isn't this good in its own way?" "It seems like it would keep you full." "It might be good for a craftsman's breakfast."
The mockery from earlier was gradually turning into surprise and interest.
"[gentle]Reine's bread, you see. It's proper bread that fills your stomach."
When Golda said that, scattered applause rose from the venue.
Reine clasped her hands tightly in front of her chest.
(*They acknowledged it...!*)
A warmth welled up behind her eyes.
That was when it happened.
"[loud]Thank you for waiting! Here is Panifique's entry!"
Sein emerged from the white tent. In his hands was a softly risen, ultra-soft bread. Its surface was smooth as silk, looking as if it would sink in softly if pressed with a finger.
The attention of the venue shifted all at once to Sein.
"[proud]Please, give it a try."
When the judges took the bread in their hands—
"[excited]How incredibly soft!"
"[excited]The moment it enters your mouth, it melts away...!"
"[excited]It's like eating a cloud!"
A huge cheer rose from the venue.
"Panifique is amazing after all!" "So this is Forna's new bread!" "Wheat Tail wasn't bad, but this is definitely the one!"
Sein twisted his lips in satisfaction.
"[cold]How's that, Pavo. This is my bread."
A gaze that looked down on Reine.
But—Reine noticed that his eyes wavered, just a little.
(*...Sein. You really do understand, don't you.*)
Reine quietly raised her hand.
"[serious]Honorable judges. May I?"
Her voice rang out clearly through the venue.
Golda looked at Reine with keen interest.
"[gentle]What is it?"
"[serious]Sein's bread has just one weakness."
The venue buzzed.
The smile vanished from Sein's face.
"[cold]...What?"
"[serious]After a little time passes, the moisture evaporates, and it becomes dry."
The judges' eyes went wide.
"[angry]Pavo, you—!"
"[gentle]However."
Reine cut off Sein's words.
"[gentle]That is because Sein bakes his bread wanting to 'deliver it fresh to someone right away.'"
Sein's movement stopped.
"[gentle]Bread is something you bake thinking of someone. So that you can hand it to someone, fresh-baked, and say, 'Here you go.' ...That is what my master once taught me."
Sein's blue eyes opened wide.
"[whispers]...That's..."
"[crying]Those aren't my words."
Reine's voice began to tremble.
"[crying]Those are the words you taught me...!"
The venue fell silent, as if a hush had fallen over water.
"[crying]Two years ago... the reason I banished you from the castle wasn't because of any disrespect to the royal family."
Tears spilled over.
"[crying]It was because I was going to leave the castle."
"[surprised]...What?"
"[crying]I couldn't bake bread freely if I remained a princess. But if I ran away from the castle on my own, it would surely cause trouble for you. So—so I pushed you away first...!"
Her voice turned into sobs.
"[crying]I didn't want to drag my precious master into my own selfishness... That was all it was...!"
The tears wouldn't stop.
They dripped onto the cobblestones of the square, making stains.
"...Pavo."
Sein's voice came out hoarse.
"[whispers]You really are... You've always had that clumsy way of protecting people."
The cold mask crumbled.
"[sad]You meant to protect me? ...Are you an idiot? I'm your master. I could have handled my disciple's selfishness."
Sein's voice was trembling.
His narrow, blue eyes were rapidly growing moist.
"[sad]I... I was certain that you had given up on me..."
"[crying]There's no way that's true...!"
Reine forced her voice out.
"[crying]You are... to me, my most precious master... someone I loved and was proud of...!"
"[crying]...Pavo."
A single tear streamed from Sein's eye.
The old burn scar on his left wrist was hidden by his trembling hand.
Everyone in the venue watched, holding their breath.
"[crying]...I've wanted to say it all this time. I'm sorry... Master."
"[crying]...Yeah. I'm sorry too."
The two of them just faced each other, tears streaming down.
Two years of misunderstanding, a hard shell, finally began to melt.
Milphy, clutching the flag, was crying freely.
"[crying]I'm so glad... really, so glad...!"
Gran, without a word, blinked slowly just once.
"[simple]...That's a good story."
Dorothea quietly offered a handkerchief to Reine.
"[gentle]...Lady Reine. You said it well."
Dorothea's gray eyes were also faintly moist.
Before long, Golda cleared her throat with a cough.
"[serious]...Now then. I shall announce the results of the judging."
The eyes of the venue focused on Golda.
"[serious]For this competition—'Wheat Tail' and 'Panifique'—it is a draw!"
A moment of silence.
T
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