Chapter 682

As the sun set, casting a warm glow over the city, Caspian emerged from the Ministry of Infrastructure, where a carriage awaited.

Before entering, he instructed the coachman, "Let's go to the end of Jubilant Street first. My wife mentioned wanting Harold's ravioli a couple of days ago. I'd like to buy some fresh ones for dinner."

"I'm afraid he won't be open yet," replied Charles, the coachman.

Harold's ravioli stall only opened at night. The capital thrived, and Jubilant and Beacon Streets buzzed with activity after dark.

"It's almost time," Caspian said, waving his hand. "We can wait." Charles chuckled. "You really care for your wife, sir."

Caspian playfully tapped Charles's head. "She's a good woman who married me and is raising our children. How could I not? And you'd best take care of Jenny, too."

Charles grinned and nodded, "I understand, sir." Charles had grown up in the Prince household, and Jenny, a girl brought into the family at a young age, now served Luna after Caspian arranged their marriage a couple of years prior.

Arriving at the end of Jubilant Street, they found vendors setting up their stalls. Harold, elderly and slow, was struggling, so Caspian and Charles quickly assisted. Seeing Caspian, Harold smiled. "Mr. Prince! Back for ravioli for your wife?"

"Indeed, Harold. My wife loves your ravioli. She won't touch anyone else's—not even our chef's. It doesn't suit her tastes," Caspian replied.

Harold laughed. "No need to help. I can manage."

But Caspian and Charles persisted, setting up the stall until it was ready. Harold then began preparing the ravioli; the dough and fillings were already prepared.

"Why don't you sit, Mr. Prince? It'll be ready soon," Harold said. "How much this time?"

"Five pounds," Caspian replied.

Harold sighed gently. "You and your wife have kind hearts. Good people always receive their rewards." He'd been running his stall for years, but business was slow, not because his ravioli wasn't delicious, but because he was slow and lacked help. Many customers couldn't wait.

When Caspian brought Luna to try Harold's ravioli, she instantly loved it. Though she couldn't eat much, she insisted on buying five pounds each time to share with the servants, simply wanting to support his business.

A clear, cheerful voice called out, "Harold, I'd like a serving of ravioli, please!"

Caspian looked up to see Ava Weaver, a young woman accompanied by a maid, hand resting on her stomach. "I've been busy all day and skipped lunch. I'm starving!"

Harold recognized her as a regular. He smiled. "Did you just close your family's shop, Ms. Weaver? Mr. Prince's ravioli first."

Ava turned, surprised to see Caspian. She curtsied. "It's nice to see you, Mr. Prince."

Caspian remembered her from Eugene Snyder's banquet; she'd brought coffee that Eugene had praised. Caspian, enjoying good coffee, had sent Charles to buy some from her family's shop.

He nodded politely. "Ms. Weaver."

She settled across from him, smiling gently. "Would you mind if Harold serves me first, Mr. Prince? I'm so hungry."

Caspian felt anxious. He wanted the ravioli quickly for Luna's dinner; otherwise, it would be a late-night snack, and his wife didn't eat much then. However, recognizing her need, he reluctantly nodded.

"Alright. Harold, prepare hers first."

Ava's eyes sparkled. "Two servings, please." To her maid, she said, "Ella, why don't you sit and eat with me?"

Ella sat. "I can't sit at the main table, but here is fine."

As night fell, a chilly wind picked up. Ava shivered, looking pitiful as she hugged herself.

"It's cold tonight."

Caspian nodded. "Yes, it is."

"Mr. Prince, how are the coffee beans?" Ava asked playfully, her eyes sparkling with eager curiosity.

Caspian was puzzled. "I haven't tried them yet." He hadn't even left the carriage when he sent Charles for the coffee. How did she know he bought them?