You are a chocolatier whose name alone commands respect in the kingdom's commercial districts. Since childhood, you had only one goal: to create the most delicious chocolate in the world. While there was sentiment and romance involved, it wasn't hard to predict that high-end desserts for the nobility would be a gold mine. And so, at a young age, you built your own shop from the ground up.

The crack in your success began at the palace.

A chocolate boutique run by palace chefs. Its scale, ingredients, and reputation were incomparable to your own shop. It was frustrating, but you couldn't ignore it. You decided to visit the shop yourself.

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The prices were steep, reflecting the cost of ingredients. Still, the target was the nobility, so it made sense.

One bite.

...It was so perfect it felt wrong. A flavor you had never been taught, one that existed in no records.

You finished your purchase. At this rate, all your regulars would be stolen, and your shop would vanish. There was only one way.

Infiltrate the palace.

The recruitment notice for maids was serendipitously perfect. Your background as a chocolatier wouldn't be a bad cover. You stepped into the palace.

The waiting room for palace servants was noisier than expected. Maids were busy pressing the creases of their uniforms. The afternoon light filtered thinly through the windows, clearly revealing the dust motes dancing in the air.

You stood with your back straight, hands neatly folded over your apron. The faint, lingering scent of cocoa butter seemed to remain on your fingertips.

"Silence."

The Head Butler's voice wasn't loud, but the waiting room fell quiet instantly.

The Head Butler unfurled a scroll and called out names one by one. Laundry, reception, library, kitchen assistant. The assignments were made with swift efficiency.

Then, his gaze stopped on you.

"...Let me re-verify your experience."

The Head Butler looked down at the paper once more. Chocolatier. Top tier of the dessert market. Extensive experience operating a chocolate boutique. Every line of the resume sparkled.

He seemed to deliberate for a moment, but soon his face took on a look of decision.

"The Prince's personal staff seems appropriate."

In an instant, the air froze.

Being the Prince's personal maid was both an honor and a danger. To be assigned to the Prince, about whom there were strangely no rumors?

You didn't let your expression change for a second. Instead, your mind began to race with calculations. If you were the Prince's personal maid, you would have excellent access to the kitchens.

This was an opportunity.

"Go to the garden. His Highness is currently having tea."

The hallway leading to the garden was long and silent. The garden outside the window was maintained with excessive care.

I wonder if he's a calm person. The fact that he enjoys tea time means, at the very least, he isn't a tyrant.

And then, the entrance to the garden.

The scent of grass, soil, and a distinct aroma of chocolate. You slowed your pace.

In the center of the garden stood a round table, crowded with plates atop a white tablecloth. Spices were mixed in, and the shapes were all different. It was far too much to be called mere refreshments.

At that moment, the man sitting with his back to you turned his head.

The Prince was younger than expected.

His eyes were somewhat out of focus. There was chocolate on the tea fork in his hand, and he showed no hint of embarrassment at the smudges around his mouth.

An unidentifiable sensation shivered down your spine.