CH-040

The new bread varieties at Schneider's Bread Shop had been met with rave reviews.

Not only did traveling merchants all love coming in, planning to stock up on their bread before leaving, but local residents — especially women and children — would specifically come to buy the cream buns and brioche. A single cream bun cost two silver coins. To be honest, in villages and towns where average incomes ran twenty to thirty silver coins, this was completely unaffordable — a plain black rye bread at its most expensive was only four copper coins. But in Carson City, where average incomes were one hundred to one hundred twenty silver coins, the cream bun price, while genuinely more precious than the white bread by ten copper coins, was still within reach given the softness and the unimaginable milky sweetness — one bite and it was like sinking into a cloud, your whole body and mind unwinding with ease.

Such an elevated bread, for women, was the sort of indulgence you might allow yourself once in a while on a tiring day; for children, it was simply the greatest possible treat.

They were genuinely willing to spend the money on a cream bun.

And with the intense festive atmosphere of the approaching celebration, the whole city's desire to spend had been climbing steadily.

Sona had never had such a busy day in her life. From morning to night, the shop was filled with the constant "ding-ding" of the bell, and the cash box was full before half the day was even over.

On July fourth, the first day Band and Finnian came to help at the shop, Sona had to swap out the cash box twice. In the evening when she tallied the income, she felt she was about to go mad. On an ordinary day, her revenue ran between eighty and ninety silver coins. After deducting materials, rent, and labor, the daily profit was about twenty-four to twenty-seven silver coins.

But July fourth alone brought in two hundred eighty-four silver coins — not counting the coppers that didn't round up neatly, about seven or eight copper coins' worth. In terms of profit, the day's take ran to about sixty percent margin. This was equivalent to earning a full week's income in a single day.

Sona had never in her wildest dreams imagined the new bread could sell this well: "If only the Duke could get married every day!"

Band was left exasperated by his own sister.

Sona prayed regardless: "Lord protect me — may I have this same income tomorrow!"

On July fifth the shop set a new record: three hundred thirty-seven silver coins! When the cash box was changed for the third time, Sona kissed Finnian all over his face, leaving it covered in lipstick and saliva. From then on, whenever Finnian saw Aunt Sona coming, he ran.

Because the bread shop was doing so well, even the agricultural produce Band had set out on his stall were swept away in no time. The butter, cabbage, and dried herbs Band had arranged neatly in a pile seemed to shrink by half each time you turned around. People queueing to buy bread would browse Band's vegetables and butter while waiting, and even at the small stall a line formed.

"This butter goes so well with rye bread — I heard that's how people eat it in the Grand Cathedral!"

"The cabbage is fresh enough, worth stocking up on."

Band had originally expected a seven-day sell, and it cleared in under three days. The moment the stall was taken down, other vendors rushed in to claim the prime spot.

Sona believed the bread had sold so well partly because of the foot traffic and spending enthusiasm the celebration had brought, partly because of the game-changing bread recipes Father Alistair had shared, and partly because of their little treasure Finnian.

On an ordinary day Sona could handle a hundred to a hundred fifty loaves, but these two days had pushed up to four hundred. This was work no ordinary person could manage — but Finnian could single-handedly match three to five people.

For one thing, Finnian's mind was quick and his hands were fast. He picked things up after seeing them once, no trial and error involved. For another, Finnian was a special child. He could make objects move, fold, and even replicate his own actions according to his will.

If someone opened the back kitchen door, they would see an impossible sight. An eleven-year-old child was working a dough ball on the prep counter while five other dough balls beside him moved as though following his hands — rotating, stretching, flipping, kneading, adding flour and water on their own. Like a lead dancer out front with backup dancers behind who could precisely replicate every movement. Even more miraculous, the oven beside the fire could open on its own. A wave of heat rolled out, and the finished cream buns would "hop" one by one into empty trays, as though an invisible hand was lining them up in order. One bun that had picked up a little soot from the corner even gave itself a little shake — confirming it was as clean and pretty as the ones ahead of it — before joining the line. And Finnian didn't need to look up to confirm any of it; everything was within his awareness.

Every piece of equipment in the back kitchen, along with the very air, moved in coordination — a great animate body, nimble in operation, each part fulfilling its role, orderly and precise.

This was his gift, as the church would call it — the power bestowed by God. Had the church discovered this, he might have been taken away as very young and put to work serving the Grand Cathedral. And so they always urged Finnian not to show it in public. In the future they hoped he would live discreetly, so he could pass through his whole life quietly and peacefully.

Sona had specifically asked Finnian whether he had shown it to Father Alistair.

Finnian said no. But in his heart what he thought was — he had, once, used it in front of Father Alistair without intending to. He had just wanted to show that he was doing well folding the paper butterflies — to make Father Alistair praise him. Father Alistair had asked if he was resting enough, wasn't he tired? Finnian had said that when he was fully focused, he didn't feel tired. Father Alistair had said some word at the time — something like "flow state" — which Finnian hadn't understood, but the next sentence had startled him: Father Alistair had said "you can fold a paper butterfly every twelve seconds on average — I was expecting maybe a hundred at most." Finnian had felt exposed in that instant, but then when he watched Father Alistair release five or six hundred butterflies into the air from Father Symeon's hands, he felt that his own minor business was hardly worth worrying about, and was quite at ease.

"Father Alistair is even more impressive than me. Even if I showed him, he wouldn't care."

Sona still felt they couldn't tell Father Alistair: "Regardless of whether the other person cares or not, it still can't be let out. Because who knows — what if he sent you to the Grand Cathedral? I've heard they would also take children with divine gifts to their special military school for training..."

Finnian sometimes liked to throw a small tantrum and could be mischievous and disobedient, but when something serious was explained to him clearly, he would listen. Basically, apart from nearly being kidnapped a few months back, Finnian had never caused any truly heart-stopping disasters. "I know, I know! I'm not going anywhere near the Grand Cathedral!" Right now Finnian felt his life was wonderful — his parents doted on him, his aunt and little aunt protected him, and Father Alistair always listened to him, accompanied him in studying, accompanied him in playing. Whatever he wanted to do, he could make happen. Why would he want to go somewhere unfamiliar?

Finnian proudly declared: "Even if the Grand Cathedral people gave him a hundred gold coins, I wouldn't go."

Sona corrected: "A hundred gold coins is way too little. We're earning twenty gold coins a day now!"

Not counting costs, that was.

"Are we really making that much?" Finnian couldn't help straightening up proudly. "I've never even seen what a gold coin looks like!"

Sona laughed and casually reached into her pocket and pulled out a gleaming gold coin for him: "This one is yours."

After seeing the windfall in income the previous day, she had immediately gone to a money changer and converted several hundred silver coins into more convenient gold coins to carry. The money changer, in anticipation of the celebrations, had prepared new currency that gleamed attractively. At the time Sona had already thought to keep one gold coin for Finnian. Now it happened to come up, so she gave it to him. Though in the countryside gold coins weren't as practical as silver or copper ones, Sona just felt Finnian should have the experience of seeing one up close.

"And don't tell your father," Sona added.

Band the old stick-in-the-mud didn't like people spoiling Finnian and giving him everything.

"It's so pretty!" Finnian turned the gold coin over and over, enchanted with it, and laughed: "I'm going to go show off to Father Alistair! Now I'm even richer than him!"

Sona was completely indifferent to this. If one day Finnian wanted to join the church, she thought that was actually fine. In Carson City, being a believer came with many policy benefits — the only inconvenience was having to follow all the church's rules. But that was mainly a burden for people who didn't have any actual faith. If Finnian genuinely wanted to become a believer, the church's various requirements wouldn't be that difficult for him.

Sona smiled: "Finnian, do you like earning money?"

Finnian grinned back: "Of course! When the shop does well, I'm definitely happy!"

Seeing it was a good opportunity to bring up the topic with Finnian, Sona spoke in a consultative tone, sharing the thoughts she and Band had been discussing: "Finnian, I feel like my little shop has been doing really well these past few days. Today I even received long-term orders from two wealthy merchants — they want five cream buns delivered every day going forward."

Finnian listened, nodding along: "That's great! Our village's milk supply can come to you here too. We can make lots of cream and butter."

Sona, seeing Finnian wasn't against the subject, continued: "If the word-of-mouth spreads among traveling merchants, business will keep growing. And that will definitely mean needing more hands."

That last sentence was the key point.

Finnian, who had been playing with the gold coin up till now, looked up and said directly: "Are you asking me to stay here and help?"

"Yes!" Sona smiled. "I need someone to help, and you're the best person I can think of. I really hope you'll come work with me."

She paused, looked at Finnian whose eyes were beginning to show uncertainty, and continued: "Finnian, you've already been out of school for half a year with nothing you particularly like. That goes to show that the things in the village don't hold much appeal for you. But Carson City is different — it's lively, full of opportunity. Whether it's things you're already familiar with or things you've never tried, you can find them here. You love fruit from the south, don't you? You can eat it all the time here — Carson City is the only transit hub for southern goods in the whole district. You don't need to go south — you can enjoy all the new southern things right here in Carson City."

Finnian: "......"

"And we'd still be living together — your father and mother wouldn't need to worry about you getting into trouble." Sona smiled. "I'd also pay you a salary — at least three gold coins a month, which is thirty silver coins. For someone your age in the village, earning half of that would already be impressive. And in your future, you can use these savings to keep looking for work you love, buy a shop of your own. You'd settle into this lively city, meet a girl you like, start a family and build a life, have your own little home."

Sona thought this was the best path for Finnian. Nothing to worry about, days going along steadily. And if he wanted to try new things in the future, Carson City had them all. Family nearby to help out. He was sharp and quick, and good-looking too — once he grew up there'd certainly be no shortage of girls who liked him. Nobody could be happier than him. Finnian had been listening to Sona's words, finding himself unable to argue against them, yet feeling that this wasn't what he wanted. Seeing Finnian looking a little confused, as though he didn't quite understand what Sona was saying, Sona thought it through and quickly understood — the future she'd described was too distant for him to grasp yet just how good it was.

So Sona held up a finger and said very seriously: "You love Father Alistair very much, don't you?"

Finnian just stared at Sona with a fixed gaze as she laid out her full, clear reasoning.

"Father Alistair is so poor — for nearly a whole year now, no other believer has donated to him. And the second half of the year is hard to say. Right now in summer the harvest is good, autumn will have plenty to gather, but what about winter? He has no money to get through a cold winter. You sending him milk and bread every day can't make him feel warm. Can it?"

"But if you earn money here, you could even buy him a fifteen-gold-coin cashmere blanket for the winter."

"So doesn't Carson City work out wonderfully for you?"

Sona was full of hope, her voice bright as she painted a picture of the future for him. But she hadn't noticed that across from her, Finnian was staring at her fixedly, his eyes like a kite being pulled in two directions at once.

His hand unconsciously tightened, and in his ears was only Sona's gentle voice, sentence after sentence landing on his heart.

He was clever enough to know Sona was right. But he felt terrible — even his breathing had grown heavy.

In the middle of Sona's question, Finnian's voice came out full of the tug and struggle of being pulled in two directions.

"I... I really want to buy him a cashmere blanket..."

His voice was so small it was like talking in a dream.

"But... I also want to see Father Alistair every day..."

The moment those words left his mouth, his lower lip gave a violent tremor, and tears rolled from the corners of his eyes — dropping onto the prep counter with a crisp sound, strikingly clear.

He didn't even know what had come over him. Nobody had done anything to hurt him, yet he felt as though he had suffered the greatest injustice in the world, and the tears simply wouldn't stop.

Sona didn't know Finnian would react this strongly. She'd seen him pushed around by his father without a single tear, seen him go through the kidnapping without crying once out of fear, but he cried over this. She couldn't find a handkerchief in time and quickly used her sleeve to wipe at his tears.

"It's all right, it's all right!"

Finnian, choking back sobs, looked at Aunt Sona with reddened eyes: "If I don't buy the cashmere blanket, will Father Alistair not like me as much?"

Sona hurriedly said: "How could that be? How could Father Alistair not like you?"

"But if he knows I could have bought it for him and chose not to, he definitely won't treat me as well as he does now."

Sona sometimes thought Finnian's sharp mind wasn't always a blessing — sometimes she genuinely couldn't argue with him: "......"

Finnian, seeing Aunt Sona had nothing to say, took her silence as confirmation he was right. And so he felt even worse.

Sona had never had experience making a child stop crying, her hands and feet suddenly at a loss.

Just then, Sona heard the back kitchen window being knocked on. She didn't want to deal with it and pretended not to hear, but the window kept on being knocked, and she had to look up impatiently.

Their eyes met. Herens?!

"Mr. Herens, how did you appear at the back door?"

Herens had followed Father Alistair's instructions and left the lodgings the Carson church had arranged. But he didn't know where else to go. In this city, the only people he knew were the Schneiders.

After finding his way over, Herens also didn't know what had happened in the back kitchen, and said: "It's a long story — something happened in the ecclesiastical district. Father Alistair..."

Before Herens could finish, he saw Finnian turn his head at the sound and look at him. Two eyes — red and swollen, like a little rabbit. Herens was astonished. "...Finnian, why are you suddenly crying?"

Finnian's ears went hot, and with one rough swipe of his forearm across his face, he deliberately avoided meeting Herens's gaze: "I... I got powder in my eye..."