Five Too Many Coincidences
I left Grizel Park and walked roughly two blocks.
There were a few grocery stores on Indar Street where I lived, but the one I was heading to now had far better prices and a much wider selection.
‘I’ve been so swamped with work that I couldn’t restock the pantry, so there’s more to buy than usual.’
I arrived right as it opened, and the shop was pleasantly quiet.
I filled my basket with steady, deliberate care.
“That comes to one gold and forty-seven silver.”
‘That much?’
I had bought a bundle of eggs for two silver, plus potatoes and tomatoes for stew and a few other things, but nothing that should have added up to such an outrageous total. Yet when I tallied the prices in my head, it really was exactly one gold and forty-seven silver.
‘I still can’t get my brain to accept that ten ten-silvers equal one gold.’
Working with numbers every day only made the discomfort sharper.
‘And didn’t eggs only cost one silver until the year before last?’
Every time I went shopping I felt the sting of rising prices in my bones. I paid and left the store with a sigh.
‘Now that the war’s over, grocery prices should drop a little, right?’
I trudged along carrying the heavy basket when, for no reason I could name, my cheek began to itch.
‘What is that?’
It was the kind of feeling I couldn’t simply ignore. I set the basket down and scratched my cheek.
Out of habit I glanced around—and met a pair of golden eyes that looked as though they had been poured from molten pure gold.
“Wow…”
The admiring sound slipped out before I could stop it.
‘Again?’
Was the capital really this small?
‘Or is this the result of all those times I prayed for more chances to cleanse my eyes by seeing Everett Rohas?’
There simply weren’t many people that handsome in the capital, so we kept crossing paths.
Once we both registered each other’s presence, Everett Rohas and I froze in an awkward, unnatural pause.
The building right beside the grocery store was an old bookstore that specialized in rare volumes; it looked as though he had just stepped out of it.
We had only met by overlapping coincidence a few times. We weren’t close enough to exchange greetings.
“Haha.”
I gave an awkward little laugh, picked up the basket I had set down, and walked past him with purposeful strides, pretending I had not seen him at all.
‘Last time you looked at me like I was some kind of weirdo. I didn’t like that.’
I thought I could feel his gaze—presumably Everett Rohas’s—on the back of my head, but I refused to turn around and check.
‘This time… I got the first strike!’
A tiny, triumphant smile tugged at my lips the whole way home.
Any lingering thoughts about the string of coincidences scattered the moment I started unpacking the groceries into my empty pantry. The only thing left in my head was the firm decision to finish the overdue cleaning as quickly as possible and then collapse into bed.
Edwin watched Lina’s small figure until it became a distant dot and finally disappeared from sight.
He stood there like a sailor bewitched by a siren, motionless for several long minutes before he finally began to walk again.
Instead of returning to the palace, he changed direction and headed for a small café whose floor-to-ceiling glass windows were its most striking feature.
“Welcome, sir?”
A clear, pleasant bell chimed. A man wearing a brown apron came out alone to greet him.
With sun-kissed brown hair, warm green eyes, and a naturally smiling face, he blended perfectly with the café’s cozy atmosphere.
“Yeah.”
Edwin answered half-heartedly and dropped into the nearest chair with careless grace.
The man hovered anxiously around the emperor, who was sprawled lazily in his seat.
“The materials you requested still haven’t been fully compiled.”
“I’m not here about Duke Camelot.”
Only then did Kylus—Edwin’s longtime friend and the head of the emperor’s secret intelligence division—let out a sigh of relief.
“However, I expect results on that matter within a few days as well.”
Kylus quickly calculated the remaining workload and answered, “Four days should be enough. I will enter the palace the moment it is complete.”
Edwin gave a small nod.
After the brief exchange of business and a short silence, Edwin spoke again.
“Kylus.”
“Yes?”
“Do you believe in coincidence?”
“Coincidence?”
The question was so abrupt that Kylus had to ask for clarification.
“Yes. Coincidence. For example, running into the same woman over and over.”
Edwin’s gaze, which had been fixed on the wall, finally turned to his friend.
“Are you suspecting her of being an assassin or a spy?”
Kylus’s voice dropped slightly at the thought that there might be an agent he had completely missed.
“Well…”
Edwin hesitated for a moment before continuing.
“Her behavior doesn’t suggest that at all.”
Her arm had been soft, containing only the bare minimum muscle needed to survive.
‘The moment I grabbed her wrist, I knew she had no intention of attacking.’
Yet she seemed to have almost no wariness; she would grab him without hesitation and stare straight at his face. If he had to describe it, she reminded him of a small white dog a noble lady had raised purely for its cuteness.
“But every single time I leave the palace, I run into her.”
Edwin recounted each encounter in order.
“The first time was the day I entered the capital early to coincide with the anniversary of Bliss’s death.”
After eight years, he hadn’t wanted to visit his only sister empty-handed. While buying the freesias she had loved, he had met the woman for the first time.
The second meeting happened near Grizel Park when he was carrying toys a young girl might like to Bliss’s grave.
“The third was the other day when I stopped here on my way back to the palace. She didn’t seem to notice me that time, but I suppose it still counts.”
She had climbed into the shared carriage with a deathly pale face and vanished immediately, so it felt a little ambiguous, but he decided to include it.
Up until the third encounter, even Edwin had simply thought the capital was smaller than expected.
“But today I ran into her twice more.”
Five times in total.
That was far too many to dismiss as mere coincidence.
“It does seem rather strange,” Kylus agreed, stroking his chin.
“I need to determine whether these coincidences are the gods’ will or a human scheme.”
At the emperor’s command, Kylus bowed with crisp precision.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
While Kylus wrote brief letters to his informants and stepped away, two or three customers entered the café.
Kylus, who took his side job surprisingly seriously, greeted them with a gentle, welcoming smile.
The moment the young women—who looked barely more than girls—placed their orders and he turned around, they squealed and began whispering frantically into each other’s ears.
Their conversation was about how handsome the owner was and how kind the coffee seemed.
“Your drinks are ready.”
Kylus smiled even more sweetly at the customers, every inch the perfect café proprietor.
‘That guy has excellent hearing, yet he’s pretending he didn’t catch a word.’
Edwin mercilessly mocked his old friend’s artificial smile.
After serving the guests their coffee and overly sweet cake, Kylus offered a cup to Edwin as well.
“Coffee is fine. Do you have whiskey?”
Edwin rejected the coffee without a second’s hesitation.
“Technically, this establishment is a café.”
Kylus grumbled lightly.
“You forgot the ‘disgustingly tasteless’ part.”
Edwin jerked his chin toward the customers who were already making bitter faces after a single sip.
“It has improved. It’s no longer at the level of ‘disgusting.’”
Kylus muttered in protest, as if defending the last shred of his pride.
Edwin paid no attention and continued his teasing with a crooked smile.
“I used to think all coffee tasted like dirty water.”
Coffee had only been imported from the southern continent about ten years ago. What had once been a drink for a small group of enthusiasts had only recently spread enough for cafés to appear on capital streets.
“Even if the empire is a coffee wasteland compared to the southern continent, this is still too much.”
Kylus looked as though he had been born to stand under a barista’s star, yet he possessed terrifyingly bad hands. Before opening the café he had spent months learning from a southern immigrant barista, but his skills had barely improved.
“You should have just opened a pub like everyone else. All this suffering for nothing.”
Edwin lowered his voice to a whisper.
The two-silver insult made Kylus look like he was about to cry.
“Still, at least in terms of originality, it was a solid choice.”
Edwin tried to soothe his only friend before he could get truly upset.
“The fact that no random customers wander in is entirely thanks to your coffee.”
The attempt at comfort failed completely. Kylus’s eyes grew even glossier.
“I really have improved, you know.”
Thoroughly offended, Kylus vanished into the back, determined to prove his skill.
Edwin watched the back of his friend’s head and laughed like a mischievous boy—while mentally preparing himself to drink the “disgustingly tasteless” coffee made with the finest ingredients.
After enjoying three sweet days of holiday, I returned to work and became another cog in the endless wheel once more.
‘Still, once today’s treasury report is finished, I’ll have cleared one major hurdle.’
Early in the morning the head of the treasury marched toward the conference room with a face as stiff as a board, carrying documents so heavy with bad news that it looked as though the souls of every employee had been piled on top like toppings.
The rest of us prayed desperately for the meeting to pass without incident.
‘Please, just let it go smoothly! I don’t want to work this weekend!’
But prayers are rarely answered.