~CHAPTER 55~
Capital, Bresford.
The main commercial area here was the Bernada Market, built around a large square.
The primary visitors were commoners, but nobles also purchased goods here.
From dawn until the moon rose, the flow of people never ceased.
Today, I disguised myself as a commoner again and took a spot in the section where anyone could freely set up stalls and sell goods.
Naturally, the good spots were already taken, so I set out my items in a corner and prepared for business.
For the next week, I had a total of one hundred items to sell.
Thirty-five bottles of tea leaves, thirty-two bottles of scented oil, and thirty-three candles.
‘This is doable. I just need to do well.’
I resolved to succeed!
With that bold ambition in my heart, I began selling in earnest at nine in the morning.
And for two hours, not a single customer came.
Not even a stray dog wandered near me.
But as they say, patience is key, and finally someone approached my stall.
“Oh my, I don’t remember seeing this stall before!”
I quickly straightened up, dusted my clothes, and wore a neat smile as I waited for the customer to come closer.
I had fully equipped myself with a service mindset, recalling countless part-time job experiences from my past life, but.
“Miss, the fruit is very cheap! Come and see!”
“Oh, really?”
A fruit vendor just three stalls away called out, and I failed to greet my first customer.
‘What a shame.’
But soon enough, the next customer—
“Wow, let’s see what’s being sold over there!”
“Pretty ladies! We’ve got new arrivals today!”
The next, customer—
“Oh, a new stall my wife would be interested in?”
Customer—
“Hey guys! That pretty lady is selling something! Let’s go check it out!”
“Hey, you! Don’t disturb my business and go play somewhere else!”
No customers came.
I watched the children running in the opposite direction with a distant gaze.
‘It’s fine. They can come and play…’
But like those before, the children who showed interest then turned away never returned.
In the end, on the first day, I couldn’t serve a single customer and had to close my stall.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
Greta, who silently stayed with me at the stall, asked while packing up.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’ll sell a lot tomorrow.”
I smiled. It really wasn’t a big hit, because today was literally the first day.
There would be plenty of days to make up for it, so instead of being disappointed, I thought it better to consider what I could improve tomorrow.
So the next day, I didn’t just stay at my stall but stepped forward to assert my presence.
And then a new problem arose.
“Excuse me, can you move this board?”
The owners of stalls along my line suddenly put up wooden boards around their areas, blocking our visibility.
Even when I called out to customers, no one could see what the stall was from outside, so no one entered.
Unable to endure it, I asked the man at the neighboring stall, but received a curt response.
“No, I can’t! The vegetables will get dirty from the dust.”
“But your board is blocking our spot!”
“If we argued like that, I couldn’t do anything! Some losses are necessary for the public good.”
‘Huh? Public good…?’
Confused, I watched as the man spun around and muttered.
“Hmph, trying to remove a stone that rolled in.”
‘…’
I quietly returned to my spot and reviewed the day’s events.
Every time a customer showed interest in my stall, others rushed to call them first… could it be…
“Greta, are we being subjected to turf wars?”
“It seems that way.”
Greta confirmed plainly. She, too, felt the subtle hostility from surrounding merchants.
‘Actually, turf wars like this are common.’
Whenever a new member joins a group, someone always asserts dominance, and it was especially severe in places where many sell together.
Perhaps because they are colleagues yet competitors.
‘But I want to get along.’
Since I wasn’t planning to settle here permanently and would leave soon, I just wanted to get through this smoothly without conflict.
‘Then I’ll approach them first and resolve it!’
Good vibes all around. It would be better if everyone got along.
However, how naive that thought was became clear within just a few hours.
“Hello, I’m Jena from the stall over there.”
No matter who I spoke to, I was treated as completely invisible.
“Can you hear me? Excuse me? Ma’am? Sir?”
After painfully experiencing loneliness in the crowd, I realized just how solid the walls of Bernada Market’s turf wars were.
* * *
These days, Aizen would unconsciously loiter by the entrance at seven in the evening.
That was when Jena returned home.
Since her confident first day at work, Jena always came back with a drained expression, her round eyes sagging into an oval shape.
Aizen couldn’t help but notice.
After all, it had happened because he had brought Jena, disguised as Victoria, to Vicky.
Of course, he had never anticipated that Victoria acting as Vicky would turn out like this.
Checking his watch repeatedly, he rushed to the door as soon as Jena’s carriage arrived at the mansion.
Soon, Jena trudged in, looking even more tired than usual.
“Honey, I’m home.”
She opened her arms at the sight of her husband.
“Good job today.”
“Thank you, but you know…”
Jena leaned against him, exhausted, and chattered about her day.
Hearing about the relentless turf wars in the market, veins throbbed at Aizen’s temples.
He was angry that there were people deliberately cruel to Jena, who no one could mistreat now.
“Shall I go and scold them?”
“Nope.”
Jena declined lightly. She hadn’t intended to nag Aizen to solve it anyway.
“Actually, someone took pity on me and told me how to remove the turf war.”
She had already found a breakthrough.
“Oh? What is it?”
“They told me to meet the president of the Bernada Market Merchants’ Association. Merchants can’t go against him, so if I talk nicely, it’ll work.”
Jena wriggled out of Aizen’s embrace and smiled.
“So I’ll go with a gift tomorrow.”
‘…’
Aizen felt a sudden emptiness in his arms, a tinge of regret.
It pained him that Jena worked so hard for something so trivial.
“If you’re only struggling because of family business, you don’t have to. I’ve come to the capital to earn money anyway.”
“Oh? What work is that?”
“Finance. Details are confidential. Anyway, I’ll earn the money, so don’t overwork yourself.”
“Oh, that’s great!”
Jena clapped her hands in delight, and Aizen’s lips curved. This would make things a little easier for her…
“Thanks for thinking of me, but it’s still your guild. Not just for family, I want to succeed for myself too.”
Her blue eyes shone with firm determination as she looked up at him.
Aizen’s lips parted slightly, realizing what he had overlooked.
He smiled faintly. She could have leaned back and lived comfortably, but she didn’t—just like Jena.
“Then I’ll cheer for you. But if it’s too hard, tell me immediately.”
“Yes, I will.”
Jena rested her head on Aizen’s shoulder again, and he patted her back thoughtfully.
‘I should have someone watching over the surroundings.’
He didn’t want anyone to bother Jena, but he wouldn’t leave anyone harassing her unchecked.
* * *
The next day.
I went to meet the president of the merchants’ association with a cookie set from a famous dessert house in the capital.
‘If it’s just one person, maybe it will go smoothly.’
But upon meeting him, my hopes were shattered.
“Ahem, if you’re new, you should endure turf wars. You can’t fix it empty-handed.”
The president was a gangster in a different sense than the hostile merchants.
I calmly extended the cookie box.
“I brought a small gift.”
“Ha! That’s too small. Who asked for a gift?”
“Me?”
He pushed the cookies aside and crossed his arms.
“Pay stall fees and membership fees.”
It was an absurd demand.
The spot I set up was free for anyone, and I had no intention of joining the association.
“That’s not possible. I’m only selling for a few days.”
“So what! If you want to get along with us, you have to cooperate, whether it’s a few days or a few hours!”
“…How much are the fees?”
“One gold for the stall fee, and forty percent of profits for membership.”
I was momentarily speechless at a demand beyond absurd.
‘Even a loan shark wouldn’t extort like this.’
