Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

The winter festival had become the talk of the entire capital.

People from nearby towns and villages continued arriving every day.

The streets remained crowded.

The inns were completely full.

Merchants couldn’t stop smiling.

And most importantly—

Every single product prepared for the festival had been sold.

Not one item remained.

Not a single box.

Not a single sack.

Not even the smallest trinket.

Everything was gone.

---

Inside a large warehouse near the marketplace, dozens of workers stared at the empty shelves.

One worker scratched his head.

"It’s all gone."

Another nodded.

"I’ve never seen anything like this."

A third worker laughed.

"We prepared enough stock for months."

"And it disappeared in three days."

The warehouse manager looked around proudly.

"This will be remembered for years."

---

Meanwhile—

Prince Liang’s merchant friend sat inside his office.

Account books were stacked everywhere.

Several accountants were still calculating profits.

The merchant looked exhausted.

But happy.

Very happy.

One accountant finally stood up.

"Master."

"The final count is complete."

The merchant straightened immediately.

"How much?"

The accountant handed him a scroll.

The merchant opened it.

Then froze.

His eyes widened.

He looked again.

Then again.

To make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

"...This much?"

The accountant nodded.

"Yes."

The merchant burst into laughter.

The entire room became lively.

Even the accountants couldn’t hide their smiles.

The merchant shook his head.

"If someone had told me this would happen a month ago, I would have called them crazy."

---

After calming down, he carefully prepared another box.

Inside was a portion of the profits.

Twenty percent.

A large amount.

An amount capable of making ordinary nobles faint.

After all—

Without imperial support, the festival would never have reached this scale.

The merchant closed the box carefully.

Then headed toward the palace.

---

Imperial Palace

The Emperor had just finished reviewing reports when a servant announced the visitor.

"Your Majesty."

"The merchant requests an audience."

The Emperor raised an eyebrow.

"Let him enter."

Moments later, the merchant entered and bowed deeply.

"Greetings, Your Majesty."

The Emperor nodded.

"You may rise."

The merchant stood.

His face couldn’t hide his excitement.

The Emperor noticed immediately.

"It seems the festival was successful."

The merchant laughed.

"Successful?"

"Your Majesty, successful doesn’t begin to describe it."

The Emperor looked amused.

"Tell me."

The merchant immediately began reporting.

Every product sold.

Every stall emptied.

Every warehouse cleared.

The Emperor listened quietly.

The more he heard—

The more satisfied he became.

Not because of money.

But because the plan had worked.

The villagers had benefited.

Trade had increased.

The economy had improved.

That mattered far more.

Finally, the merchant placed the wooden box onto the table.

"Your Majesty."

"This is your share."

The Emperor glanced at it.

Then at the merchant.

"Share?"

The merchant nodded.

"Twenty percent."

"The agreement."

The Emperor remained silent for several moments.

Then—

He pushed the box back.

The merchant blinked.

"Your Majesty?"

The Emperor shook his head.

"Keep it."

The merchant froze.

"...What?"

The Emperor repeated calmly.

"Keep it."

The merchant stared.

For a moment he wondered if he had misheard.

"Your Majesty..."

"This is a large amount."

The Emperor smiled faintly.

"I know."

The merchant looked completely confused.

"But why?"

The Emperor leaned back slightly.

"The purpose was never profit."

The merchant fell silent.

The Emperor continued.

"The festival succeeded."

"The people benefited."

"The merchants earned money."

"The villages prospered."

"That is enough."

The merchant looked at the Emperor for a long moment.

Then—

For perhaps the first time—

He truly understood why this man sat on the throne.

Not because he desired wealth.

Not because he desired luxury.

But because he understood responsibility.

The merchant lowered his head respectfully.

"This humble one understands."

---

The Emperor glanced toward the window.

The festival lanterns could still be seen from parts of the city.

The celebrations had continued longer than expected.

Children laughed.

Musicians played.

The capital was alive.

For once—

The reports on his desk weren’t filled with disasters.

No famine.

No rebellion.

No plague.

Just prosperity.

The Emperor felt strangely relaxed.

Then he spoke.

"Let’s end the festival tomorrow."

The merchant nodded immediately.

"It has already exceeded expectations."

The Emperor smiled slightly.

"The people have celebrated enough."

"They need rest."

The merchant laughed.

"That is true."

Some merchants had probably forgotten what sleep felt like.

---

The two continued discussing the final arrangements.

Closing ceremonies.

Cleanup efforts.

Distribution of remaining resources.

Everything was planned carefully.

By the time the merchant left—

The sky had already begun darkening.

Before departing, he bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

The Emperor looked at him.

"For what?"

The merchant smiled.

"For believing this could work."

The Emperor remained silent.

Then he nodded once.

"Travel safely."

---

As the merchant departed the palace, he looked back once.

The imperial palace stood proudly against the setting sun.

For the first time in many years—

The kingdom felt hopeful.

Peaceful.

Prosperous.

And somewhere in the bustling capital—

The Empress and Princess Zhi were still enjoying the final days of the festival.

Unaware that hidden eyes continued watching from the shadows.

Waiting.

Patiently.

For their next opportunity.

The winter morning was quiet.

A light layer of frost covered the gardens of the Duke Residence.

Servants moved through the courtyards carrying warm tea and charcoal braziers.

Inside her chamber, the Empress sat beside the window.

A book rested in her lap.

But she wasn’t reading.

Instead, she was watching the snow-covered branches sway gently in the wind.

For the first time in many months—

Her heart felt peaceful.

No plots.

No punishment.

No fear.

Just peace.

Then—

A maid hurried into the room.

"Your Majesty!"

The Empress looked up.

The maid’s face was glowing with excitement.

"A letter has arrived from Whisper Bowl."

Immediately—

The Empress sat straighter.

"From them?"

The maid nodded eagerly.

"Yes."

The Empress accepted the letter.

The moment she saw the familiar handwriting—

She smiled.

Her friend.

Only her friend would write letters with ink stains on the corner because she was too excited to wait for it to dry.

The Empress carefully unfolded the paper.

And began reading.

---

"To my dear friend,

If this letter reaches you, then please prepare yourself before reading further.

You may faint from happiness."

The Empress laughed.

Only her friend could begin a business report like that.

---

Princess Zhi happened to enter at that moment.

"What happened?"

The Empress handed her the first page.

Princess Zhi read it.

Then laughed too.

"She really writes whatever comes to her mind."

---

The Empress continued reading.

As she did—

Her expression slowly changed.

Surprise.

Then disbelief.

Then pride.

---

The letter detailed everything.

The festival had brought an unbelievable number of customers.

Not just commoners.

Merchants.

Travelers.

Scholars.

Officials.

Even nobles.

Everyone wanted to visit Whisper Bowl.

The restaurants had become famous throughout the kingdom.

People traveled days simply to taste the food.

---

One paragraph read:

"The queue outside the Capital Branch was so long that one customer thought we were distributing gold."

Princess Zhi burst into laughter.

The Empress shook her head helplessly.

---

Another section reported:

"The northern branch sold out before noon every day."

"The western branch earned three months of profit in three days."

"The southern branch hired fifteen additional workers because they couldn’t handle the crowds."

---

The Empress stared.

Then reread it.

Then reread it again.

---

"That’s impossible," Princess Zhi whispered.

The Empress nodded.

"It should be impossible."

Yet the numbers were there.

Written clearly.

Verified.

---

The letter continued.

Every branch had broken records.

Every manager had submitted excellent reports.

Customer satisfaction remained high.

Staff performance was exceptional.

And profits—

Profits had exceeded every expectation.

---

Even the usually serious accountants had celebrated.

According to the letter, one accountant had smiled.

Which apparently shocked the entire restaurant.

---

The Empress laughed so hard she nearly dropped the letter.

Princess Zhi was laughing too.

---

Then came the final report.

The total earnings.

---

Silence.

---

The Empress froze.

Princess Zhi leaned closer.

Then froze as well.

---

For several moments—

Neither woman spoke.

---

Princess Zhi finally whispered,

"That’s enough money to buy a district of the capital."

---

The Empress folded the letter slowly.

Then unfolded it again.

Just to make sure she wasn’t imagining things.

---

The profits were enormous.

Far greater than even her most optimistic predictions.

---

Princess Zhi stared at her.

"What are you going to do?"

---

The Empress smiled.

The same smile she always wore when planning something.

Which usually worried everyone around her.

---

"Expand."

---

Princess Zhi groaned.

"I knew you would say that."

---

The Empress laughed.

"There are still many towns without branches."

"Many people need jobs."

"Many opportunities remain."

---

Princess Zhi shook her head.

"Most people become rich and buy mansions."

"You become rich and open more restaurants."

---

The Empress smiled.

"Restaurants help more people."

---

The letter contained one final note.

---

"Everyone misses you.

The cooks keep arguing over which dish you would approve of.

The twins are competing to see who can increase sales the most.

The staff have started a betting pool on when you’ll visit next.

And if you don’t return soon, I may personally drag you here."

---

The Empress laughed softly.

For a moment—

The palace.

The politics.

The dangers.

All felt far away.

---

Because Whisper Bowl wasn’t just a business anymore.

It was a family.

A home.

A place where people worked together.

Grew together.

Succeeded together.

---

Outside the window—

Snow continued falling gently.

---

Inside the room—

The Empress folded the letter carefully.

Then placed it beside her heart.

---

A small smile remained on her face.

Because she knew—

This was only the beginning.

Whisper Bowl had already conquered the capital.

Soon—

It would spread throughout the entire kingdom.

And somewhere inside a bustling restaurant filled with laughter and the smell of fresh food—

Her friend was probably already planning the next impossible dream.