The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort
Chapter 538 - 538: The Merchant and The New Firm (2)

Ahead, sunlight from a skylight spilled over a raised platform. There, newly arrived products sat on pedestals waiting for Estella's final approval. Tall glass columns held swirling liquids—some a smoky amethyst, others a bright aquamarine. Each column was capped with a silver stopper shaped like a crescent moon. Apprentices hovered, adjusting the alignment by a hair, ensuring labels faced outward just so.

He moved silently along the platform's edge, passing a young mage marking down stability test results. The mage muttered, "pH stable, aura resonance within target range," scribbling quickly before darting to the next sample.

Mikhailis's heart swelled with pride. None of this existed a year ago. Estella—and Rhea's quiet counsel—had turned a modest stall into a blooming empire. He wanted to applaud right there, but instead tucked hands into his cloak pockets, continuing toward the back.

Time to greet the captains of this ship, he decided, pulse quickening at the prospect of surprising them. And maybe—just maybe—stealing one of those new shimmering lip oils for Elowen.

He entered the next section, and there they were, exactly as he'd imagined yet somehow brighter: Estella's dark green curls gleaming under sunlight, her sapphire gown alive with hidden sparkles; Rhea beside her, calm as a still lake, silver gown draping like morning mist. They stood shoulder to shoulder, studying a display while apprentices waited for approval.

Mikhailis paused in the shadow of a tall shelf, watching Estella lean in to adjust a tiny jar by mere millimeters. "Always leave a gap—temptation thrives in the promise of empty space," she murmured. Her tone carried no scold, only guidance. The apprentice nodded gratefully.

Rhea's gaze swept the room, ever observant. She caught the flicker of movement at the shelf's edge, her silver-blue eyes locking onto the hooded figure. A faint smile curved her lips, and she inclined her head in greeting.

"Your Highness, would you prefer to remain incognito or is this a social visit?"

Rhea's tone slid through the busy showroom like silk over polished wood—soft, cool, and impossible to ignore. A single brow lifted, the tiniest challenge flashing in her silver-blue eyes.

Mikhailis's shoulders shook with a quiet laugh. He reached up, pinched the edge of his hood, and let it fall back. Light from the skylight spilled over his tousled blond hair and caught a hint of amusement in his gaze. "A bit of both," he murmured, voice pitched for Rhea alone, "but mostly a check on my two favorite entrepreneurs."

Estella spun so fast her green curls fanned out like ivy in a breeze. Surprise flared, replaced a heartbeat later by a radiant grin. "Mikhailis! You rogue. Sneaking about like a common spy." She planted fists on her hips, but the scolding glimmer in her eyes melted into delight.

He stepped forward, out of the shelving's shadow and into the warm sun-patch. "Guilty as charged." With arms open, he invited the embrace he knew was coming. Estella didn't disappoint; she crossed the remaining space in two graceful strides and wrapped him in a hug that smelled of jasmine, amber, and the faintest bite of peppermint—her favorite invigorating tonic.

The hug lingered. Mikhailis noticed how her shoulders had grown stronger, how confidence stiffened her spine—an entrepreneur forged in flame and profit. She's carrying the weight well, he thought, giving a gentle squeeze before releasing her.

Rhea's lips curved at the edges, creating the smallest smile—blink, and it was gone. Yet her eyes stayed alert, cataloguing every detail: the slight flush in Estella's cheeks, the hushed whispers spreading among nearby clerks who had recognized the prince consort, the way a curious noblewoman craned her neck for a better look.

"Still slipping around like a shadow," Rhea said, folding her hands in front of her waist. Her silver gown draped like moonlit water, cowl-neck catching stray beams. "I suppose some things never change."

"Not if I can help it." Mikhailis offered her a broad, genuine smile. His fingers brushed hers in greeting—no courtly kiss, just warmth. "You both look even more dazzling than last time. Radiant, actually."

"Careful, Mikhailis," Estella teased, flipping a dark curl over her shoulder. "Flattery only works when you haven't been absent for an age."

He placed a hand over his heart, giving a melodramatic bow that drew a laugh from a passing customer. "Business in Serewyn kept me a bit tangled," he admitted, straightening. "Trade talks, tasting far too many date pastries, the usual diplomatic doom. But I see you've turned my distraction into opportunity."

He swept an arm to indicate the buzzing shop floor. Shelves gleamed; clerks hustled with rehearsed grace; a crystal chandelier near the entrance winked with rainbow prisms. The store felt alive, like a theater minutes before curtain rise.

Estella's green eyes sparkled with unabashed pride. "Lumine Étoile is growing faster than we ever dared hope. New clients, new products—each day is a whirlwind." She tapped her temple. "But a thrilling one."

"I can see that." Mikhailis's gaze drifted over an apprentice who was carefully lining up pastel boxes. The apprentice's hands shook with nerves until Estella gave a subtle nod of encouragement. The shake vanished. She leads with steadiness, Mikhailis noted.

His voice lowered. "Shall we talk somewhere more private? I may have a few ideas—some half-mad, some only three-quarters."

Estella's grin widened. "The best kind. Follow me."

Rhea gestured for two senior clerks to mind the floor, then fell into step behind them. They passed through a narrow corridor lined with sketchboards. Mikhailis caught snippets of rough product drawings: a compact etched with runes for "instant glow," a brush whose bristles sparkled with residual mana. His mind ticked, imagining possibilities.

They ducked behind a pair of heavy velvet curtains—midnight blue with gold tassels—and entered a secluded lounge no larger than a carriage compartment. Plush velvet seats in deep plum formed a semi-circle around a low, cedar table. Candles floated in glass orbs above, shedding honey-gold light and a faint aroma of spiced citrus.

At the center of the table rested a crystal decanter of rose-honey ambrosia. Its contents glimmered like liquid sunrise. Two matching flutes waited, chilled and ready. Rhea moved with dancer precision, lifting the decanter and filling the glasses. The liquid flowed in thin amber ribbons, catching candlelight before settling with a muted swirl.

Mikhailis accepted his glass with a grateful nod, then gave the contents a slow, appreciative swirl. The bouquet rose—sweet roses, dark honey, a whisper of oak cask. "I must say," he said, settling into a chair upholstered in velvet so soft it sighed beneath him, "you've outdone yourselves. The shop outside is dazzling, but this—this is enchanting."

Estella slipped into the seat opposite, crossing her legs with practiced grace. "Flattery again? Dangerous habit, Your Highness."

"But true." He offered a roguish wink before sobering. "Still, I didn't come just to drink your finest ambrosia, tempting though it is."

Rhea sank gracefully onto the third chair, folding her gown beneath her. "We assumed as much." She studied him over the rim of her glass, calm as moonlit marble. "Serewyn tied you up, yet you appear here with that glint in your eye. You have a scheme."

Mikhailis set his flute down, leaned forward, elbows on knees. In the candle glow his playful air shifted—still warm, yet sharpened. "Makeup and beauty," he began, "are merely the first layer. A lovely layer—but a surface nonetheless."

Estella arched a brow. "You're planning to dig deeper?"

"Precisely." He flattened his palms, as though smoothing a map no one else could see. "Imagine enchanted perfumes containing defensive charms—an aromatic ward. A thief lunges, the perfume shields. Or skin balms that double as mild healing salves, soothing minor cuts while keeping skin pristine." He snapped his fingers. "Hairpins etched with subtle protections, masquerading as fashion but capable of deflecting a poisoned needle."

Rhea's eyes flickered with interest, though her posture remained tranquil. "Luxury items hiding utility. That alone would thrill the nobility."

Estella leaned in, emerald eyes bright. "A beauty empire with a hidden blade," she echoed, letting each word roll on her tongue. "It certainly fits our aesthetic—elegance first, strength beneath."

Mikhailis nodded. "Exactly the philosophy that built this place. And there's a broad market: noble houses hungry for status, yes—but also traveling scholars, diplomats, even adventurers." His gaze lit. "Imagine a glamor balm that masks fatigue on the battlefield yet seals scratches, too. Kings would buy it for their sons, mercenaries for themselves."

He paused, letting the notion breathe.

A pulse of azure glimmered from the tiny charm at his collar.

<Projected revenue increase of thirty percent with dual-purpose products. Reputation growth among noble circles assured.>

Estella's lashes fluttered at Rodion's unseen input, but she was too seasoned to ask. She merely tapped her chin, lips curving in thought. "Marketing will matter," she said. "We can't scream 'self-defense'—no delicate duchess wants to admit she fears attack at a tea."

"True," Mikhailis agreed. "We frame it as peace of mind, a whisper of safety. A dragon-scale veil to accompany the diamond tiara."

Rhea's fingers traced the flute's stem. "And for common travelers?"