9. Black and Gold (23)
9. Black and Gold (23)
Even when suddenly mistaken for a thief, Ella remained composed.
For one, she didn't consider what she'd done all that serious. If she'd stolen a recipe or a batch of prepared ingredients, that would be one thing, but the pastries she'd slipped into her hat were, by the man's own admission, about to go to market. Taking a few didn't seem like a grave offense.
And then there was the fact that the old man didn't seem genuinely angry.
The corners of his mouth were clearly struggling to suppress a smile, and his voice carried an unmistakable note of mischief.
Most importantly, the line he'd thrown at her—
She knew it. It was dialogue from a well-known play.
Ella grasped the old man's intention and shifted her attitude with a speed that caught even him off guard.
"Well, I never. Falsely accusing an innocent stranger of theft? A doddering old codger who looks like he can barely lift a ladle anymore."
Ella perched sideways on the table, murmuring the words in a sing-song tone, her voice dripping with theatrical disapproval.
The secretary supporting the old man stiffened at her words.
"Now see here! Do you have any idea who this—"
"Stand down."
Wilhelm silenced him.
The new young secretary was enthusiastic and capable, but he lacked a certain social intuition.
"This is the royal kitchen, a consecrated place. Who are you to trespass here!"
"Handmaiden to the princess herself, if you must know?"
Only then did the secretary recall the Duke's habit of spontaneously reciting play verses to suit the moment.
This was clearly another one of those performances.
The two of them were acting out a scene from 'The Princess Who Bakes Cookies,' one of the playwright Christian's best-known works.
It was Christian's signature comedy: a young, neglected princess, driven by hunger to sneak into the royal kitchen, who is then swept up in events and accidentally hired as the royal pâtissier's apprentice.
Their ad-libbed performance was hurtling toward the scene's conclusion.
Ella planted a hand on her hip and stood before the old man.
"Then see for yourself. Where is your proof that I'm a thief?"
She flipped her hat upside down.
A soft clatter rained down.
Pastries spilled out across the table.
She stared at them, visibly thrown.
The pastries that were supposed to vanish via Inspira had stubbornly remained inside the hat.
Of course, in the actual script, this was exactly where her character made a blunder.
The pâtissier, suspecting she'd been sent by a rival scheming for his position, was about to report her to the guards. Already treated as an unwanted guest in her own palace, the princess couldn't bear becoming a bigger laughingstock and begged him for any work. He summoned her after hours and saddled her with menial chores.
Initially distrustful, the pâtissier grew intrigued by her genuine interest in pastry-making and her evident talent. With permission from her mistress, the princess—he never realized she was giving permission on her own behalf—he took her on as an apprentice. The play ended with her serving her confections to the Crown Prince, who had come as the representative of the imperial delegation, and restoring his lost appetite.
Ella had planned to add a flourish at the end of this first-meeting scene.
She would remove her hat as if to say, 'Ta-da! Nothing there, see?', startling her scene partner.
But her Inspira failed to trigger.
The pastries should have been whisked away into Wonderstein's hat, but they had inexplicably remained.
Duke Candyman, thoroughly satisfied with Ella's bewildered expression, burst into a great belly laugh.
"Haha! Well played. Your improvisation, your memory, your acting—all splendid!"
Ella quickly rearranged her features and lifted her chin with the same boldness she'd originally intended.
"Ahem... the feeling is mutual. I certainly didn't expect to be acting on the spot like this. You're quite accomplished yourself, Grandfather."
At the word 'Grandfather,' Wilhelm's smile grew deeply content.
It was a form of address he had never been able to hear and never would hear elsewhere.
Even catching it like this, now and then from a passing child, lifted his spirits.
"Indeed. So, do you know who I am?"
Wilhelm shuffled forward, supported by his secretary.
"Hm, you seem to be someone important at this factory... Your eyesight must trouble you, and considering your perfect recall of Christian's script, you're clearly a devoted fan. Which must mean... you are His Grace, Duke Slagbort?"
At her answer, Wilhelm nodded with clear approval.
"Haha, that I am. I am Wilhelm Slagbort. But please, dispense with the formalities."
He stopped her as she moved to deliver the elaborate, rehearsed greeting she'd memorized the previous night.
"Now. You came with the Golden Carnival, yes? What is your name, young lady?"
"I did come with them, but I'm not a member of the troupe. My name is Ella."
"Aha! Then you must be the Ella who caused such a stir at the Rekachev entrance exam?"
She gave a sheepish smile and displayed the bandages wrapped around her arm.
"If dislocating an arm counts as causing a stir, then yes, that was definitely me."
At that moment, the door at the back of the office swung open, and a mustachioed man in a golden cape strode in.
Lord Fantastic. She'd assumed he had left ahead of her.
He smiled at Ella, who was staring at him in confusion.
"I was aware you were putting on a performance."
"Good grief. The people here don't pull their punches, do they."
Simon stepped before the Duke and, before Wilhelm could stop him, executed a flawlessly formal greeting.
His voice had a pleasant cadence, deftly pushing and pulling the rhythm of his breath.
Wilhelm, intrigued to hear a greeting he'd endured tens of thousands of times sound fresh again, nodded along.
"A pleasure to meet you, Lord Fantastic."
"Please, drop the 'Lord.' Being addressed that way by Your Grace makes me feel rather self-conscious."
"Haha, then I shall call you Mr. Magier. I see I've placed some truly excellent guests in my villa. I was just watching Miss Ella's skill, and—"
Just as the story began to find its rhythm, the young secretary cut in.
"Your Grace, we must proceed. The schedule at present requires—"
Wilhelm let out a small sigh and clicked his tongue.
The man had no sense of timing whatsoever.
"Very well. We'll move. Listen, though you two must head to my collection hall, would you care to accompany me first? There's one stop I must make before I join you there."
Whose request was this, that they would refuse?
Simon and Ella accepted his offer without a moment's hesitation.
Throughout the journey, the pair kept the Duke engaged with a steady stream of light banter, never letting a single moment turn dull for him.
Their synergy was so seamless that the Duke erupted into loud laughter several times as they crossed the factory grounds.
Even the secretary, whose expression was usually set in stone, found the corners of his mouth twitching.
"Ho ho, Mr. Magier, you cut a different figure from the man my villa keeper described. I was told you're constantly on edge."
Simon smiled and shook his head.
"I used to be. The change in atmosphere is entirely thanks to Miss Ella here. The troupe members all say her joining was the best thing to happen to the Golden Carnival since its founding."
"Oh, now, that's just flattery running off the rails. You know that's practically character assassination by compliment, right? Grandfather, let it go in one ear and out the other. Our Troupe Leader is just being polite to a guest."
It didn't sound like just politeness, though.
The old Duke may have been blind, but the emotions carried in a voice reached him more easily than they did for others.
He probed Simon again, his tone subtly needling.
"Ho ho, in a few days' time, it'll be a shame. Since Miss Ella will be leaving, I mean."
Simon's reply was tinged with a hint of something more serious.
"I'm already considering offering her the Deputy Leader position to keep her."
"What? What nonsense is this Uncle spouting now? And your daughter?"
Ella laughed it off.
She still assumed he was joking.
The destination turned out to be the hands-on workshop located behind the main factory.
Originally a training space for confectioners visiting from other cities to receive instruction, it was currently serving as an activity hall for touring visitors.
The program in session was cake-decoration stacking.
The goal was to pile dozens of provided cake decorations onto a single cake, with whoever stacked the highest securing victory.
The Duke was scheduled to make a brief appearance on stage at the program's conclusion.
While he prepared his remarks for the visitors backstage, Simon and Ella decided to attempt the same challenge as the guests.
The program was nearly finished, but for two highly skilled acrobats, the remaining time was more than adequate.
The pair faced off over a single cake in a stacking duel.
The rules dictated they take turns adding decorations, with each new piece having to be placed higher than the one before it.
"Whoever makes it collapse loses!"
With that, Ella and Simon took turns flicking their chosen decorations onto the cake.
The staff members watching from backstage gaped at their acrobatics.
Tossing them on like that, when even placing them carefully was demanding enough?
Moreover, without ever clustering multiple pieces on the same level to reinforce the base, they used perfect angles to support the cake, constructing it layer by layer.
"Incredible."
"Is that what the Golden Carnival is capable of?"
"I saw earlier, there are people like that among the visitors too."
"Yeah. That pair who looked so close..."
Overhearing the staff's murmurs, Ella shot Simon a sidelong glance.
"Did you hear that?"
"Ah, yes. Wasn't there an entrance exam at Rekachev? Right now, this city must have the highest concentration of teenage acrobats in the world. I suppose they combined their exam trip with a factory tour."
"Maybe Reina and our Troupe Leader are here too?"
A moment of silence stretched between them.
Both tried to picture the scene.
Wonderstein, spending his energy on something entirely unrelated to the Circus Grand Prix alongside a girl he barely knew.
Reina, laughing and decorating cakes companionably with a perfect stranger.
Neither image fit.
"Haha."
"No way."
Just as they were about to toss the final decorations, the competition on the main stage was drawing to a close.
"Alright, take a bite of cake from Grandpapa's hand! And now, granddaughter gives grandpapa a piggyback ride around the stage!"
"Success! Here's the Filial Piety Award! A candy cane! For you!"
"You, grumpy son! Tell your cake-holding mother you love her! Give me a three-second cheer blast!"
"Whoa, the cake nearly toppled but just held on! Is this a mother's strength for her boy? Here's the Affectionate Mother-and-Child Award! A mask-shaped chocolate! Hahaha!"
The emcee assigned the stage contestants various tasks that threatened to upset their cake decorations. Finishing a task earned a prize.
It was an event for children, after all, so the judging wasn't meant to be strict.
Teams that caused a total collapse were, of course, denied a prize. Instead, the emcee playfully teased them, suggesting they complete a different task if they wanted a gift.
Finally, a pair with blond hair took the stage.
"Whoa! Now, aren't you two the ones I saw stacking like acrobats from the front row earlier? What's your relationship? Uncle and niece? Big brother and little sister?"
"We're from a circus..."
"Father and d-daughter!"
Before the man could answer, the teenage girl shouted in a booming voice.
The emcee laughed at the sight of her face burning bright red.
He knew instinctively just how to work a personality like hers.
"Father and daughter? Wow, that's the most surprising news I've heard all day. Do you see this, folks? The handsome man beside her is a dad with a kid! They're an acrobat father-daughter duo!"
The audience stamped their feet and roared with laughter.
The man smiled serenely, but the daughter's face was a blazing shade of crimson.
The emcee studied the cake they had built.
It was flawless.
Every year, after the Rekachev entrance ceremony concluded, people like this appeared.
Kids who had come from all corners of the world to take part in the ceremony.
While they were here, they stopped by this place too.
"Alright, looking at this cake, I can't imagine it ever collapsing. Truly impressive. So, let's try a simple task. Daughter, hold the cake in your hands! Dad, carry your daughter in your arms and walk one loop around the stage!"
"C-carry me? Eeep! L-Le-, I mean, ah..."
The blond man swept her up into his arms without a moment's delay.
The one calling herself his daughter jolted in surprise, reflexively clamping her legs and arms around his waist and neck.
Even with that sudden motion, the cake—astonishingly—remained steady in her hand, its balance unshaken.
The emcee expected the pair to complete the task effortlessly.
That was how it always went with the acrobat kids who visited.
"Wow! Amazing! Acrobat father and daughter! Looks like it's the daughter's face, not the cake, that's exploding right now!"
The image he was working with—that flushed, beet-red expression on the blond girl—was more than enough.
But then, the unexpected happened.
The cake, which had been holding its balance perfectly straight, suddenly pitched forward as if shoved by an unseen force, toppling in a cascade.
Sponge and cream and decorative pieces went rolling across the stage.
Staff members rushed out and efficiently swept away the mess with cloths.
Reina watched the creation she and her Troupe Leader had made reduced to garbage and let out a mournful sigh.
"Ah..."
Tears welled up along her lashes.
The emcee hurried over, flustered.
"It's alright, it's alright. Hey, it's okay. Like I said earlier, right? What are these cakes? Throwaways! Not a grain of sugar in 'em! Near their expiration date! Cakes we made just to mess around with! Come on, don't cry. Don't cry... a big girl like you..."
Even as he rattled on, Reina just stared blankly as the cake was swept away.
That was when a gentle touch settled on her shoulder.
"It's okay. It's not like we were going to eat it, right?"
"I-I'm sorry. Making a fool of myself like this again..."
The reason her tears suddenly burst out wasn't the cake.
She'd been melancholy all last night at the thought of having to leave this place in a few days.
She'd thought she'd shaken it off completely by the time they left the villa this morning, but watching the cake collapse caused all that regret and sorrow to detonate at once.
"It's okay, really."
Wonderstein, showing no sign of being troubled or annoyed, smiled and wiped the tears trailing down her cheek with his hand.
At that, Reina's distraught emotions instantly brightened again.
The corners of her lips curved upward, just a little.
The emcee had years of stage experience.
He saw hundreds of kids every day.
He had the sense that while Reina looked older, emotionally she wasn't far off from a young teenager.
She cried in an instant at hard or frightening things, and laughed just as fast at happy, welcoming things.
"Now, don't be too upset! Even if the cake is a goner, the chance for a gift isn't. So! For our father-daughter duo here... let's keep it simple: a kiss of love! Give him a peck on the cheek and yell 'I love you, Dad' at the top of your lungs!"
At those words, Wonderstein wore an awkward smile.
By the standards of Kiev, a kiss on the cheek wasn't that strenuous a request.
It was a common gesture between family, though doing it in public was a mildly embarrassing performance.
But they were neither from Kiev nor actual family.
More than anything, he knew Reina's personality—she'd find a bold request like that hard to accept.
She'd probably blush and duck her head again...
"Dad, I love you!"
Her voice rang out so loudly it nearly sprayed his cheek.
She squeezed her eyes shut tight.
She wrung out every last shred of courage in her body.
And then...
Peck.
Her lips touched his cheek.
"Hm?"
Wonderstein was surprised by this second ambush in as many weeks, the first being Ella's own surprise attack. But Reina, the one who had delivered the kiss, was far more shocked than he was.
"Huh?"
Just behind the stage.
Her father stood there, leaning forward to stare at her, his jaw hanging open.
"Haah?"
Lord Fantastic's composure, which had held steady since he first entered this city, shattered for the first time at this absurd spectacle.
But even his shock didn't compare to what was happening to the person beside him.
"Eeeek?!"
Ella's eyes flew open so wide they looked ready to pop, and a strangled scream tore out of her.