I just stare at Flaminia and then look around myself to make sure no one has heard her.

"You did what?"

...

I actually have an office in the new bakery – the biggest one – and I've just locked its door as I look at Flaminia, waiting for her to explain. She just stands there, eyes wide with anxiety.

"I felt bad," she begins, her voice shaky, her hands wringing. "I felt really bad!"

I raise an eyebrow, prompting her to continue. "Alright, Flam, explain."

"So, I knew he had always wanted to be a [Captain], as the next step from there would have been [General]. I hired a [Courier] and sent him a piece of cake, that's all!"

"And you didn't poison it," I ask, just to make sure.

"I did not!"

"Alright," I say, sitting back in the chair.

Old man, can you please crank up [Mind Clarity] a little?

I feel more Mana flow through me, and the effects of the skill clear the fog in my brain. I told Magister Mulligan that [Mind Clarity] and [Threading Mind] are the first spells I'm learning from him once I'm done with the Cantrips.

I lean forward, leveling my gaze with Flaminia. "Do you know what this means?"

"Joey, it wasn't me!"

"I know, please, calm down," I say.

She's upset, I realize.

Holding up a hand to pacify her, I say, "I trust you, Flam. Just breathe." I notice her distress, and it's evident she's genuinely upset. Trying to divert her attention, I inquire, "So, was there still something between you and Plinius?"

"No! I just—I treated him poorly..." Her shoulders slumped. "I am not dating anyone. We've been too busy with work. I don't know how you do it!"

"Charms, time management, and little sleep," I smile.

And a bed that makes it possible for me to sleep only two hours a night.

"Anyway, if someone poisoned the cake, and we’ve already received word about it, Flam, well... someone's trying to frame us."

"Frame us?!"

"Plinius was killed this morning, and somehow, not only has the voice spread already, together with the fact the cake was from us, but an entire crowd assembled just like that?"

"You think there might be an [Agitator] among them?"

Classes like that, sadly, actually exist here.

"Yeah," I exhale.

"Should we tell the others?" Flaminia asks, lost.

"Let's wait. Call the Watch and have them escort you home—you know what, just stay put, actually. Go back to work, and I'll talk to you later. I need some time to think now."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

...

"They might kill her," Magister Mulligan says, sitting in the chair in front of my desk after casting several layers of privacy spells. The old wizard sighs and shakes his head, his robes shifting as he rearranges his posture.

I swallow, feeling the weight of his words. "I know," I admit, fingers gripping the edge of the desk tightly. My heartbeat pulses loudly in my ears.

He raises an eyebrow, the age lines on his face deepening. "Young Luciani," he starts, his voice measured, "let's say I'm interested in protecting that young lady for you—it means that you two couldn't be separate. My powers don't extend that much in this form. I'm bound to you."

Leaning back, I shoot a wary glance at him. "You just read my mind, didn't you?" I ask, my brow furrowing in irritation.

He chuckles softly. "You're rather transparent. And you're agonizing about informing the young woman that you're dating."

With a heavy sigh, I run my fingers through my hair. "It's not the kind of news one looks forward to delivering – that Flaminia is going to be bunking down with me. And yes," I admit, trying to hold back the frustration in my voice, "If I were in the offender’s shoes, targeting me and the bakery, I'd also consider eliminating the only person capable of conjuring magical pastries. With the staffing crisis, Amelia's been swamped on the baking floor and hasn’t had the chance to learn from Flaminia yet."

"Normally, placing the two critical targets in the same place would be a terrible strategy, young Luciani."

I smirk, attempting to lighten the mood. "But they don't have a formidable [Archmage] residing within them like I do. And don't discount my own abilities – I've been pushing my limits in training. Who's to say I can't handle a couple of [Assassins]?"

He narrows his gaze, his sternness palpable. "You've spread yourself thin," he reprimands. "Your benevolence and dedication to this bakery is leading you astray."

Annoyance bubbles up within me.

"I'm exhausting my Mana every day, old man. I practice with the sword and study the skill I inherited from Idner. In the meanwhile, I'm building a baking empire."

"You could have already been done with the Cantrips if you downed the Mana Potions I made. You could have already cracked more secrets of that skill. You could have already taken this place out of bankruptcy. Instead, what have you actually done?"

"Christ, are we doing this again? Must we have the same conversation every single day?" I groan. "You’ve got enough Cantrips to study, no? What's the problem now?"

His gaze pierces me. "You're squandering your potential," Magister Mulligan insists, his tone laden with a mix of disappointment and concern. "You are not a mere [Baker], Luciani. You were never meant to be one."

...

A knock resounds on my door.

"Come in," I sigh, rubbing my face.

I have been looking at the numbers, the documents, and many other things that would have normally given me a heart attack.

"Joey," Stan enters.

"Stanimal," I say, feeling some anticipation.

Stan closes the door behind him and looks around, frowning.

"There's a lot of Mana in the air," he says, turning to me.

Oh, it's happening.

Sometimes, I notice that Stan's eyes change. They lose the softness and kindness they usually bear and become sharper. I've seen the man rein in several of the ex-[Soldiers], whose debts we paid off, and gently bash them, even slapping the back of their heads or worse.

"The wheat," I say in response. "How will we grow it?"

Stan doesn't sit. Instead, he just stares back, and the air in the office grows heavier. He looks me straight in the eye and doesn't flinch as he speaks his next word, "[Druids]."

...

Well, Stan's revelations were... crazy. Now, though, I need to think long and hard about what he told me. There are things that cannot just be sprung on another person without thinking long and hard.

We are still running on borrowed time.

That's the main problem. Even with the magical wheat, which I should actually name at some point, there's no way of stopping the massive hemorrhage of money coming from the bakery. Even though the shopfronts don't account for a huge percentage of our sales, they are what's been keeping our margins afloat.

I survey the bakery, seeing that many people stand around still, not knowing what to do next. The blockades in front of our shops mean there won’t be anyone shopping today, which raises the spooky question, 'Will anyone be there tomorrow?'

"Joey! Your girl is here!" I hear someone shout at me, and my eyes immediately widen as I spin around to find Irene stomping her way through the kitchen.

Her eyes have red circles around them, and I can sense that she's not okay at all.

"Fuck," I mutter, running toward her. But our kitchen floor is massive, and before I can get close, she's already at Flaminia’s back.

The next thing she does is she decks her from behind.

"YOU SLUT!" Irene's shout resounds through the bakery.