"Oh, it's you, Miss Cassandra," I said, forcing a polite smile. "Good to see you again."
And as expected - she didn't buy it for a second.
Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Why are you pretending? Wasn't it you who pulled the strings from the shadows?"
She produced the envelope from her sleeve, waving it lazily between two fingers. "You even timed it so that old man and I would arrive at the perfect moment."
Damn. She saw through everything. No point denying it now.
Her gaze swept over me, sharp as a blade testing its edge. "Wait…" A glint of amusement lit her eyes. "Are you one of those people? The kind who plays the fool but pulls strings in the shadows?"
She tilted her head. "Or in your case—smart enough to make others dance without realizing it?"
I rubbed the back of my neck, feigning sheepishness. "You're giving me too much credit. I just… prefer avoiding trouble."
But how does she know about "those kind of people"? Unless…
"Trouble, huh?" she muttered, crossing her arms. "But your actions tell me something else. Why go to such lengths to save a stranger if you hate trouble?" She tapped a finger against her elbow. "Though, I suppose the way you did it does suit what you said — you didn't play the hero or took unnecessary risks."
I stayed silent, letting her piece it together.
She sighed, shaking her head. "Still, you're frustrating. You have the brains to orchestrate this mess but act like you'd rather fade into the background. If I hadn't caught you watching earlier—with that smug little smirk—I might've missed you entirely."
Ah. So that's how she noticed.
Before I could reply, she did something unexpected. A slight bow, just deep enough to convey sincerity without bending her pride. "Thank you."
I blinked. "…For what?"
"..." She straightened, tucking the letter back into her sleeve with practiced grace. "Come." She turned on her heel, the hem of her dress whispering against the cobblestones. "Let's talk where we won't be overheard."
I hesitated only a breath before following.
What choice did I have? When the heroine of this little drama commands, even background characters must obey.
The café was quiet, the kind of place where conversations dissolved into the steam rising from porcelain cups. Miss Cassandra took a slow sip of her tea before speaking, her voice lower now, more measured.
"If I were to tell the truth," she began, tracing the rim of her cup with a finger, "I've been planning to break my engagement with that guy for months. No, from the moment we were engaged."
Her lips twisted wryly. "But nobles don't divorce over mere disliking each other. I needed proof. Evidence solid enough that even my family couldn't argue."
I nodded. That much was obvious. Breaking an engagement between major houses required more than personal grievances—it needed political cover. At least in my memories.
"That's why I came here quietly," she continued. "To investigate Thaddeus's dealings myself. But now..."
"Now, you don't need to," I finished for her.
She grinned like a fox. "Exactly. The Vexmonts and my family can't argue with this."
She tapped the folded letter on the table between us. "A coerced engagement? A debt scam? And all witnessed by half the town?" She laughed, seeming pretty satisfied with the results. "I'm going to wring every drop of advantage from this."
She leaned back, studying me with an appraising glint in her eyes. "And I have you to thank for that. So I was planning to give—"
Before she could finish, I shook my head. "No need for thanks. If anything, I used you to solve the problem. You did the heavy lifting."
Cassandra waved a hand dismissively. "Semantics. The point is, you helped. And I always repay my debts."
"Besides," She leaned in closer. "We both know this isn't fully over. Thaddeus and that Redhart fool are still... festering. But don't worry." Her smile turned icy. "I'll handle the rest. That girl's family will stay free—just as you intended."
"I appreciate that," I said, and meant it.
"Hehe, of course." She chuckled, then abruptly changed tack. "But... if you won't take a reward, how about a job?"
"Yes, a job. I think your funds are a bit low for a noble student, am I right?"
You hit right on the spot.
Just as she guessed, my current budget was... precarious. I was planning to find ways to make money. Probably a part-time job or something.
She smirked at my silence. "You can think of it as an investment too. Besides, I can't let someone as capable as you slip away so easily."
Now that piqued my interest. "What kind of job?"
"I'm staying in town for three weeks to establish a new branch of my personal business. Nothing grandiose—just a small shop. But I need someone competent to manage it." Her eyes gleamed. "Someone who knows how to handle problems without making a mess."
I turned the offer over in my mind. A shop manager, huh. It's tempting, but considering my current situation...
Cassandra watched me a knowing smile, then added, "Don't worry, it won't interfere with your studies. And if you're half as good as I think you are, it might even be... mutually beneficial."
I exhaled, then met her gaze. "You drive a hard bargain, Miss Cassandra."
Her laugh was bright, almost startling in the quiet café. "So? Do we have a deal?"
I reached for my tea, hiding a smile. "We do."
Miss Cassandra set her cup down with a satisfied clink, her fingers lingering on the porcelain for just a moment before she straightened.
"Do you have free time now?" she asked, already gathering her gloves from the table.
I glanced at the clock ticking quietly on the café wall—still a few hours until evening. "I do."
"Good." Her smile turned positively feline as she stood in one smooth motion. "Then I can show you the shop right away. Come on—follow me. It's not far."
She didn't wait for confirmation, already striding toward the door with that effortless grace of hers, the kind that made people instinctively step aside. I scrambled to finish my tea (too quickly—it burned my tongue) before hurrying after her.
The mid afternoon sun painted the merchant district in warm gold as we walked, Cassandra moving with purpose through the winding streets.
"You're not going to tell me what kind of shop this is?" I asked, matching her pace.
She shot me a sidelong glance, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Where's the fun in spoiling the surprise?"
I barely suppressed a sigh. Of course.
We turned down a quieter side street, where the buildings pressed closer together, their overhanging signs creaking gently in the breeze. Then—
Cassandra stopped before a narrow storefront, its windows still covered with paper, the door bearing a fresh coat of dark green paint. From her sleeve, she produced a heavy iron key and unlocked it with a decisive click.
The interior was dim but clean, smelling faintly of sawdust and polish. Shelves lined the walls, empty but waiting; a polished counter stood near the back, and through an open doorway, I glimpsed a small storeroom.
"Well?" Cassandra turned to me, arms crossed. "What do you think?"
I studied the space, already calculating. "Depends. Are you selling books? Potions? Illegal artifacts?"
Her laugh rang out, bright and unexpected. "Oh, I like you." She gestured grandly.
"None of those. This will be a..."