Non-Alcoholic Makgeolli
Date: July 7th
Weather: Heavy rain
Lady's mood: 🤬 → 😀
lmao
The lady got mad.
More like sulky?
I said that bear-like idiot's mug is kinda cute!
And boom—total disaster.
We decided to make non-alcoholic makgeolli...
She's expecting way too much?
Guess I gotta hit up finance first?
Asking that elf? World might end.
Not called "strictypants" for nothing.
Sigh... my karma.
What is a kitchen? A place filled with the fragrant aroma of food and warm air, where just being there warms your heart. Generally speaking.
But right now, in this moment, the atmosphere was as frigid as the depths of winter.
"Say that again."
The source of that chill, the lady's eyes, flickered like they had flames boring into them. I mean, I said it to tease that bear-like bastard, but it felt like her rage encompassed me too—my heart shrank.
"...I drank it... all."
"......."
Whoa. This is legit terrifying. No idea how many minutes it's been. Save me—
"Rio."
"...Yes!"
"From today, mass-produce that makgeolli stuff."
"Huh?"
"Mass-produce it."
"......."
...Suddenly? Does she even realize her body's just turned 20? Sure, I knew that and still gave it to her, so I'm not innocent either.
But pajeon needs makgeolli, right?
Pajeon without makgeolli?
Why even bother.
Might as well eat pizza.
"You listening to me?"
Oh, right. We were talking. As I opened my mouth with an "oh crap" look, the head chef stepped in first.
"L-Lady."
"What."
"If I may, do you remember how old you are this year?"
Whoa. So that bear was just brain-dead when talking to me? I was dumbfounded, but couldn't show it—bit the inside of my cheek to hold back.
"You don't know? I'm thirty-tw...
"Pardon?"
"Ah."
Only then did she seem to realize her current state, clamping her mouth shut. Yeah, knew it'd happen.
I thought I was back in my old body at first too.
But she shot me a grumpy glare and mouthed:
[Why didn't you tell me sooner?]
Figured as much. I quietly averted my eyes to the ceiling. Still, I felt her sharp gaze from below—like it was drilling holes.
"Anyway, you're just barely of age now, right Lady?"
"...What."
"So for alcohol stuff, why not ask the Duke and Duchess or other adults?"
"......."
"This guy here, as you know, isn't long out of age himself."
"...No choice then. Sorry for barging in suddenly."
Aah. Look at that super disappointed face. Drooping like a rain-soaked kitten, eyes glistening with tears. As a lady fanatic, my heart stabbed with pain—I couldn't take it.
In the end, I went and did it. Squeezed my eyes shut and yelled at her.
"Non-alcoholic!"
"Huh?"
"...If it doesn't get you drunk, I'll give it a shot."
I didn't want to see her childlike young self wasted on booze. My previous life's lady was enough for that.
So, non-alcoholic it is. Won't be zero alcohol, but...
She won't get blackout drunk.
"For real?!"
"Yes!"
"For real, real?!"
Her eyes sparkled like jewels—felt like I stepped in it.
"...Yay!"
"Then I'll trust you and head out!"
Yup. Those tears were crocodile tears. She lit up, slammed the plate and bottle on the table, and dashed off doot-doot-doot.
I stared blankly, smiling faintly. But my eyes were dead as a corpse.
"......."
"...You sure you can handle this?"
"Dunno."
Aah. This is Earth. Is my soul heading to heaven? Nah? Too many sins? Just say yes already.
The days that followed. For a while, smiles never left the lips of anyone in the Netr Duke Mansion, from residents to servants.
The troublemaking wild child lady, Lucresia Netr. She usually turned the mansion upside down like a cat hit with water, but lately, some wind must've changed her—she was quiet as a well-mannered housecat, spending days peacefully.
To be precise, not completely quiet; her pranks had just toned down. From earthquakes and tsunamis to shaky bridges and splashing waves.
But the servants looked at her fondly as she buzzed around, like it was plenty.
And the lady noticed it full well. Passing a corridor, she turned a pouty face to Marie.
"Marie, don't people's faces seem weird?"
"What do you mean?"
"Feels like they're looking at a cat or dog out for a walk."
"Nah, must be your imagination. Everyone reveres you so much."
"Right?"
"Yes."
But Marie had no clue she wore the same expression. Lucy narrowed her eyes, glaring intently.
"Staaaare—"
"Ahem."
Only then did Marie sweat bullets and look away, realizing her slip. Lucy whipped around and stomped off briskly.
"Let this slide—just this once."
"Haha, yes."
The reason they scurried about from dawn: the new brewery under construction.
On that pouring rain day, the day after she flipped the kitchen, Lucy watched her guard zip east and west with great satisfaction.
Who wouldn't be moved? Honestly didn't think he'd actually do it—seeing him hustle around melted her.
But finance approved it somehow.
Wondering how he convinced that strictypants—not to mention her parents—Lucy soon brushed it off.
Whatever, he handled it.
She hated using her brain. Specifically, boring, pedantic, righteous problem-solving.
Just one big push. Others would fix the mess.
But results weren't bad. Impulses vary: blind charges, or piercing the core.
Lucy's beast-like instincts mostly hit the latter. Unconsciously nailing solid outcomes.
That was Lucy. Pure beast.
"Who's badmouthing me now."
And beasts always drew gripes—from those nearby.
Clack-clack-
Far off, long-eared figure. Only one such beauty in the mansion: prickly elf, Elir. A.k.a. strictypants.
What's finance want?
Low heels clacking, she marched straight to Lucy and stopped. Lucy halted, looking up. Easily 20cm difference.
"Milady."
"Yeah?"
Elir eyed her warily, face stiff. Even tamed lately, Lucy was Lucy. Caution forever.
"The brewery—must you build it?"
"Yeah."
Sigh. No budging. Wrinkles creased Elir's smooth forehead.
Truth was, she rushed here over finances.
Some might scoff—what fiscal woes for a duke's mansion? But.
At this rate, bankruptcy.
Over a century, investments bulked assets. But lately, the imperial family slapped sudden regs on their ventures.
Strangled cashflow squeezed the mansion. Suspiciously targeting Netr's golden eggs.
And now brewery permits outta nowhere.
While she hustled fixes, her subordinate pulled this disaster. Infuriating.
That guard punk timing it when I'm away—infuriating.
Quitting crossed her mind. Then a rumor fluttered in:
[The duke's mansion rascal has mellowed.]
Dismissed at first, but days later, she believed—came to plead personally.
"Can't you do it later?"
"Nah, no can do. Gotta be now."
Lucy was firm. Knows something? Sounded certain.
Elir dropped it bluntly.
"Truth is, the family's finances are tight."
"I know."
Casual response.
So she knew.
As Elir's brow furrowed deeper—
"That's why."
"...Pardon?"
"Why we need the brewery now."
Her sparkling eyes brimmed with conviction.
"This'll be the key."
Midsummer morning sun glinted in her pupils, shimmering.