Joy of sharing

"This," he said softly, "is… exceptional."

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

Then he looked at Riku, his gaze sharper now, but not unkind. "Young man. How many servings do you have left?"

Riku smiled politely. "Roughly a hundred."

Without hesitation, the noble reached into his cloak and withdrew a fine velvet pouch. The weight of the coin inside sang as he placed it down.

"I'll take them all. Two hundred gold."

A hush fell over the plaza.

But the noble was not finished.

"In fact—" he added, adjusting the crest-shaped brooch on his shoulder, "—make it three."

People gasped. Even the nobleman's own attendants turned to him in disbelief.

Three hundred gold. For sweet buns. 

The jaws of the entire crowd dropped.

But Riku didn't even flinch. He simply stepped to the side and gestured with an open palm toward the small corner of the chalkboard.

One Serving Per Customer. No Exceptions.

The noble raised an amused brow. "A rule?"

Riku nodded. "A small one. But important."

"Surely," the nobleman said, voice smooth with charm, "you can make an exception? I'm willing to go up to four hundred. I'd like to take a few home. Something tells me my sisters would kill me if I didn't."

Riku chuckled lightly but shook his head. "That's generous, but I'm afraid I have to refuse."

The noble leaned in slightly, intrigued. "Refuse gold? That's rare in this city."

"I'm not selling gold," Riku replied calmly. "I'm sharing joy."

The noble tilted his head, smiling with mild interest. "Then allow me to make a different offer."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice with the practiced ease of someone who had closed many fine deals.

"You come work for me. Full-time. I'll set you up in a real storefront. Hire chefs under you. You name your price — a hundred gold a week, two if you insist. You'll have a kitchen five times the size of this cart."

There was real sincerity in the man's tone — not coercion, but opportunity. The kind most people would leap at.

Riku paused, looked up at the man — and smiled.

"It's tempting," he said. "It really is."

"But you won't take it," the noble said knowingly.

Riku's voice softened. "Because what made that bite special… wasn't just the flavor. It was the surprise. The simplicity. The fact that it came after a thousand bland meals and reminded you that joy still exists."

He glanced at the waiting crowd.

"It wouldn't feel the same if someone else made it in a fancy kitchen. Or if you had a basket full of them and ate them everyday."

The nobleman watched him for a long moment — and then let out a low chuckle.

"You're an odd one."

"I get that a lot."

The noble turned to his attendants. "Fetch my sisters. My uncle, too, if he's not arguing with that miserable mayor again. This…" he gestured broadly, "…is worth the walk."

He turned back once more, tipping his head to Riku with unexpected respect.

"Don't you dare sell out before we return."

And with a flourish of green brocade and soft laughter, the nobleman strode off, cloak catching the breeze — leaving behind a stunned silence that quickly erupted into excited chatter.

Lila leaned over the cart, grinning ear to ear. "You just turned down four hundred gold."

Riku shrugged, reaching for the next pair of tongs. "We'll still sell out quickly."

-------------------------

By noon, the square was alive.

The scent of roasted tea and sweet mochi drifted down the alleys and courtyards like a siren's call. Nobles in embroidered cloaks stood side-by-side with clean-faced merchants, chewing in quiet bliss. Even a few street children stood nearby, nibbling off shared halves offered by kind strangers.

"I've never seen people look this happy, even in Luxsia," Lysaria whispered, folding her arms with a soft smile.

Lila returned from the counter, holding a small clay bowl filled with collected coins.

"Even the common folk pooled their money together," she said quietly. "Some said they hadn't eaten anything with real flavor in weeks."

A merchant at the front of the line laughed, patting a guard's shoulder. "Worth every copper. Tell your wife she's missing out!"

More laughter followed.

But then—

Down the main street came a small procession — robes of pure white, lined with golden thread, shimmering beneath the noonday sun. A trio of figures walked at the front, bearing the sigil of the Church of Light on broad collars.

One among them, a tall man with sun-darkened skin and a pointed chin, wore a chain-threaded sash across his chest — a High Deacon's mark.

The crowd instinctively parted, drawing back. The laughter vanished, and a hush fell over the crowd.

Even the nobles stepped away, murmuring.

Riku, still behind the cart, watched quietly as the three robed figures approached.

They looked over the cart. At the glowing food. At the long line of eager customers.

And then the deacon raised a hand.

"We have heard," he said loudly, "that heavenly food is being served in the square. In honor of the divine, we have come to partake."

He stepped forward, not waiting for permission, and placed two gold coins on the counter.

Riku, expression unreadable, served a plate as always.

The deacon bit into the mochi, and for a moment, even he seemed to forget his posture. His eyes softened. His breath slowed.

But the moment passed.

His lips pressed into a line. He turned to the others.

"It is as the rumors say," he said. "This is no ordinary food. This is a blessing of the light."

The robed figures murmured in agreement.

Then, he turned back to Riku.

"And as such… it should serve the light."

He lifted his hand, voice rising.

"We declare that the remaining stock of this food shall be donated to the Church of Light, to be distributed fairly to the faithful — as part of your humble service to the divine."

Gasps followed.

Someone near the front stammered, "But we've been waiting—"

Another noblewoman stepped forward. "I just sent for my son—"

The deacon held up a palm, silencing the crowd.

"The divine comes before desire. And so shall it be."

Even the guards from earlier stepped back, uncertain.

Behind the cart, Lysaria took a sharp breath and stepped forward.

"You can't just demand—"

But before she could finish, Riku gently touched her arm.

"Wait," he said quietly.

She froze.

His expression hadn't changed. Calm. Measured.

Lila looked between them. "Riku…?"

He gave a small smile.

"Let me handle this"