Parks—Dermal City, a scenic tourist hub, actually had two large parks besides the Ancient Spirit Tree at its heart.

Unlike parks back in her old world with exercise gear, these were purely for strolling and enjoying views. Dermal City’s highlight? A vast artificial lake.

Rumor said a powerful mage summoned the water. Benches dotted the park.

*Perfect.*

Daytime benches were scarce, but at night…

Caro sighed. Short-term rentals were tough. Inns? Way too pricey. Could she really spend all her bakery wages on lodging?

Sleeping in the park carried risks. Theft was minor. Worse? Criminals—some man smitten by her looks dragging her into the lakeside grove on a dark, shadowy night, stuffing her panties into her mouth, knife pressed close, silencing her screams…

Just imagining it sent a chill through her. *Should I book an inn for two nights?*

Then she swallowed hard. *A person knows what to fear—and what not to.* Anyone who dares? One swift kick where it counts.

She scooped two handfuls of mud into her skirt pocket. No magical lime powder, but it might blur vision.

She tucked a brick into her big backpack.

Sure, she’d lose against a top-tier adventurer—but why would one lurk in a park at midnight? Tavern drinks or brothel fun, obviously.

She inwardly slandered adventurers with zero remorse.

She found a decent bench, wiped it lightly, spread a thin blanket over herself. *If I’m fully covered, no one’ll guess a cute girl’s underneath. Maybe they’ll leave me alone.*

Alert at first, exhaustion soon pulled her into sleep.

...

Dawn came. Nothing happened—but her back and waist screamed in protest. Benches weren’t meant for sleeping, especially lakeside with that damp chill.

Lesson learned. Tonight? Another park. Rumor said it was all flowers and herbs. *Please don’t let bees sting me mid-sleep.*

She stretched, checked the sun’s angle to guess the time. Pocket watches? Rare luxuries here. Crazy expensive.

She’d briefly considered becoming a clockmaker. Nah.

Over two years, she’d learned sun-time. *Necessity shapes you.* Back home? She’d never bother.

Still, Dermal City felt safe—tourist town perks. Watch for pickpockets, but little else.

Off to the bakery. Today’s goal: master bread and cake skills. *Live and learn.* Homemade beats buying any day. Plus, maybe pick up local gossip from the boss.

Lassi’s Cake Shop.

So the boss was named Lassi.

"Ms. Lassi! Reporting for work!"

Caro forced bright energy into her voice. Poor sleep? No matter. Tavern work taught her to perform.

"Oh! Caro!" Ms. Lassi blinked, as if remembering her hire. "Perfect timing! Huge order just came in—I was swamped. Quick, help me!"

*Huh? Big order on day one?*

Seeing Caro’s confusion, Ms. Lassi explained:

"Fanlin House. Hosting an honored guest. Needs eighty cakes—we make twenty. Must finish before the banquet. Their team will collect."

*Fanlin House?*

Caro froze. Yesterday’s delicate girl… the Knight Captain… "Who’s the guest?" she asked, eyes gleaming with noble gossip curiosity.

Ms. Lassi leaned in, voice hushed: "Rumor says… a noble engagement ceremony—"

*Something’s off.* Caro smelled a story.

Mistie, praying before the Ancient Spirit Tree yesterday—did she receive its guidance?

*Is she the one engaged? Whoa. Juicy.*

*Damn it—did Arnold come to Dermal City for this?* Lightbulb moment. "Wow~ This is huge!"

"Right?" Ms. Lassi sighed. "Eighty cakes just for an engagement? So lavish! Enough talk—help me. I’d never finish alone. Hiring you was a lifesaver. Shop’s closed today."

Caro had planned gentle cake-skill expansion. Truth? She’d never baked cakes—bread yes, but cakes? Cream, techniques… totally different.

Instead: crash course.

Whisking eggs, whipping cream—by cake twenty, her arms felt dead. Brutal for a fourteen-year-old.

"Two extra silver coins today."

"..." She wanted to cheer, but exhaustion pinned her. *Maybe use the coins for an inn tonight… Park sleep? Impossible like this.*

Ms. Lassi rubbed her shoulders. "Age shows. At your age? I’d finish thirty!"

Caro bit back "Yeah, right." Boss deserved grace.

Then—a carriage approached.

"Ah~ Noble carriage’s here. I’ll ask them to carry the cakes. Too much for two tired women." Ms. Lassi stepped out to negotiate.

But Caro froze.

*Him.*

Hair now brown, faint painted marks on his face—but the all-black outfit, the massive sword on his back, that face…

*Arnold!*

Heart pounding, she pushed up and stepped out. Arnold, mid-conversation with Ms. Lassi, locked eyes with her.

He saw the fire blazing in her gaze.

*Trouble… She’s got me.*

Adorable, yes—but that look meant she’d sniffed a story. He’d skipped telling her *because* it’d hook her… yet here she was.

*She won’t let this drop.*

Just as Arnold feared, Caro turned to her boss: "Boss, please let me accompany the lords."

"Huh?" Ms. Lassi gaped. *Wasn’t she a corpse on the table seconds ago?*

"Miss—" Arnold started.

Caro cut in, professional tone sharp: "My lord! These twenty cakes are all custom—unique fillings, specific placements. Our shop’s reputation hinges on precision. If misplaced due to unfamiliarity, and nobles take offense…?"

She glanced at Ms. Lassi.

"…Well, that *is* true," the boss murmured.

Caro leaned close, whispering urgently: "Boss, nobles demand extreme care. Better exhaust ourselves than risk offense. One spark of anger? We couldn’t survive it."

"…Y-You’re right."

"So I’ll go ensure placements are perfect. Right?"

"Absolutely!" Ms. Lassi faced Arnold. "My lord, let my staff accompany you. Prevents errors—and protects your standing too, yes?"

A clear win-win.

Arnold sighed. "Fine, girl. Come."

Caro’s triumphant smirk flashed. She hopped onto his horse, settling snug in his lap to whisper.

Ms. Lassi blinked. *Ah… She’s sweet on the noble’s guard. Bold little thing!*

The still-graceful boss smiled, remembering her youth.

Around them, Arnold’s guards exchanged knowing grins.