Irene has not been speaking for a few minutes, just staring inside the chocolate box. When she finally says something, it’s not exactly what I wanted to hear.

“Joey, us – well, this – it might not work. I don’t know if I can have a relationship with you. Maybe you should take it back.”

“Why?”

“I need to think. I am not sure if I can do this,” she looks at me with some deep-seated sadness in the way she moves and the irises of her eyes. “You don’t realize how valuable this is,” she gives a shake to the box of chocolates.

“Irene,” I say with a little cringe, “I don’t want to boast. But that? I can do that with my eyes closed, trust me. Also, it’s called chocolate. What you call ‘Pigfeed,’ I mean. And it’s only one of the many tricks up my sleeves. I know it’s a lot for you, but it’s really nothing for me. Please, I like you. And maybe it’s unfair, but if it gives you an additional reason to show up for the lunch I won at sword point, I’d rather you keep it.”

She looks affronted for a second before smiling.

“You are ridiculous,” she says, retracting her arms and clutching the box to her chest.

“Most of the time, yeah,” I give her my custom wink.

“But if it doesn’t work…”

“If it doesn’t work, you are still a good [Baker], I suppose, and I could get you hired at Happy Bakery if you can’t snatch more secrets away from me, and The Three Roses goes under.”

That leaves her speechless again.

Better than thinking too hard about how this relationship might not be a good fit for her.

But I do wonder what the problem is exactly. She was extremely reluctant to talk about her family, which definitely hints at the fact that she’s got some trouble going on there. Does she take care of them? I’ve dated a Puerto Rican chick who was taking care of her sick father, and she broke up with me because she thought it made her harder to stay by his side.

Hm.

If that’s the case, I definitely need to be the least intrusive possible while cranking up my helpfulness to eleven.

I briefly look back at Antoninus, who’s all hunched over Lucillus’s shoulder, clearly spilling the beans about what he overheard back at the apartment.

I think I’ll also ask that little sniveling gossiper to dig up more about Irene, perhaps. Heh, or not. She does seem like the type that might react very negatively to something like that.

“By the way, if you ever want to, maybe we can spend some time working on some baking stuff together. Flaminia told me she’s got a few levels thanks to me.”

“Did she?” Irene perks up at hearing that.

“If I remember correctly,” I shrug.

“That is… impressive. She must not be far from level 40 then.”

“Yeah, she’s obsessing about it. She’s also obsessed with caramel. Has Violante explained what that is in detail? You’ve mentioned it before.”

Irene nods with a sigh.

“She did. Before she got fired.”

“Oh?”

“Camilla wants to hire you and said that Violante is a useless idiot.”

“Damn,” I swear, “this Camilla is sharp.”

“She is. But she’s also a pain. She’s obsessed with roses while we could be doing so much more. I could do much more. I would like to take on commissions from the Valerii, but Clodia’s got them locked down to Happy Bakery somehow.”

“Maybe you should get some caramel skills too. Flaminia says the Valerii loved her caramel-infused cakes.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Fuck Flaminia,” Irene replies, “her and the stupid melted sugar. I’d stomp in a pot of it and let her lick it off my toes if Camilla gave me more liberty with our creations. Have you already thought about how to incorporate this pigfeed in cake glazes instead?”

A stretch of silence follows her question.

“Joey? Hello, Joey? Joey!”

“Huh? Sorry, my ears were ringing there for a second. What were you saying?”

The scene that I conjured in my mind got me into some highly interesting fantasies involving Irene and my pink-haired co-worker.

“Nothing; I was asking about how you use this chocolate.”

“Oh, right. You can use it pretty much for anything. Feet included.”

“What?” She asks, confused.

“What?” I ask, equally confused.

“What did you just say?”

“Me? Nothing. Why?”

“Did you say feet?”

“Nah, you must have heard wrong.”

We keep chatting about baking after finally reaching the Northern part of Amorium. As we are about to make a turn, Irene stops.

“This is it. My house is close by.”

She doesn’t want me to see where she lives. Fair enough.

“Sure,” I smile. “Then, here are the burgers,” I take out two more wooden containers and hand them to her. She doesn’t have a bag of holding, apparently. “Here, I’ve got some fries too. They are not as good cold, but I added a chunk of truffle if you want to try making them on your own.”

Irene thanks me and balances all the wooden containers before giving me a long look.

“Do you really think you’ll be living in Amorium in the future? Even considering how much Elves hate Humans?”

“Heh, not everyone is like Violante. This Camilla saw through her, right? There’s hope, I think.”

“Joey, Camilla is an exception. You can’t expect everyone to look at you that way. And trust me, I’m not even sure you want them to look at you like Camilla does.”

“Heh, I have thought about it. I like Amorium—and I like Elves. There’ll always be racism around here, right? Either I go my merry way where they don’t hate Humans – if that’d be my problem – or I simply accept that not everyone will change their mind. Listen, as long as they don’t stab me dead in the street; I don’t mind. I mean, that’s why I’ve got those two,” I point back at Antoninus and Lucillus with my thumb. “They better earn their pay.”

“Didn’t you get in a fight because some [Soldiers] wanted to get to you?”

Once again, the power of medieval-times gossip turns out to be too much.

“Yes. But that doesn’t change much. I’m not bitter because I got attacked. If anything, I’m bitter just because I couldn’t avoid my friends getting stomped in the face.”

“And now, you think you can?”

“Well,” I say with a smug smile. “I have some protection now. And I’ll have more in the future.”

“I don’t think I understand you,” Irene looked away.

“It’s fine,” I say, putting a hand on the wooden boxes in her hands to keep them from swaying too much as I close in with my face. “I’ll just put some positivity out there and build my own little pocket of happiness. In the end, that’s all I can do. I’ll give as much as I can, hoping that more people like you and my friends will notice. I could be an ass, but then, I would be in a place where everyone hates Humans, and I’d have no friends. Instead, I’m doing pretty good so far.”

Irene, who’s shorter than me by a few inches, puts her head on my chest for a second, sighing. “Be safe,” she says before turning her back to me.

“I’ll come to find you for lunch?!” I ask before she disappears.

“We’ll see!”

…

“Do you think you will really marry that woman?” Antoninus asks.

“One can only hope,” I tell the brute.

“Lucillus, did you hear that?” Antoninus asks.

“Yes,” Lucillus deadpans. “Our employer wants to marry a woman. Congratulations.”

I have to admit, Lucillus grew on me more than I expected. At this point, his deadpan is much funnier than I would find it in any other person.

“She didn’t confirm the lunch, though,” Antoninus says. “Maybe she doesn’t want to see you again?”

“I’d say the odds are 70/30 that she’ll see me again. She is clearly dealing with some struggles. Not sure if it’s because I’m Human or because she’s got some issues of her own; I’m leaning toward the latter, though.”

“I wouldn’t take those odds in a fight,” I hear Lucillus say.

“Neither would I. They are only good if it’s love, Lucillus.”

“Oooooh,” Antoninus howls, “is it?”

“Only time will tell,” I wink at the brute as we make our way back to my condo.

And as we do, I can’t help but think about something. The whole conversation about racism and what we had talked about before made me think of what Stan said about those homeless people who lost all hope. And if you are asking yourself, ‘Why would it make you think of that,’ well, the answer is pretty simple. Meh. Not simple. Intermediate level, let’s say.

When I told Irene that I was trying to create my little pocket of happiness, I realized how close I was to falling into a similar despairing situation like the one Arminius and the other ex-officers are in. If I had caved and/or lost against Flaminia, maybe I’d have destroyed all the chances for a happy life here. If Lorenzo hadn’t shown up with his hands full of slaps, perhaps, I wouldn’t have realized that I still had friends and loved ones, even here.

And therefore, why should it be any different for the others? Why shouldn’t Arminius, or any officer, even those with a tremendous debt to pay, be able to afford some hope? From what Stan said, their debt is in the thousands of golds – something impossible to pay off for any normal person. But let’s face it, with my baking, I’m sure I could make more than enough money, right? Not in NYC, perhaps. Not somewhere where the competition is not merely about the product but about advanced marketing tactics, discrediting opponents, and so on. And when I say, ‘not in NYC,’ I mean maybe not. I never really tried since I thought I would never make it.

Here?

Oh, baby.

I’m going to try.

I’m going to try really hard.