My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode : 137

Chapter: 273

Master Corbin, his anger completely deflated by her immediate agreement and profound sympathy, could only blink, then nod dumbly. A moment later, a huge slice of honey-cake and a complimentary glass of fine southern wine appeared before him. His sour expression melted into one of grudging, mollified satisfaction.

“She validated his complaint, apologized sincerely, offered a personalized solution, and made him feel like a valued, discerning customer whose opinion matters,” Mei Jing analyzed quietly, a professional admiring a master at work. “She didn’t just solve a problem; she strengthened a customer relationship.”

Throughout the midday rush, they watched her perform dozens of these small miracles of social grace. She remembered the names of a dozen different regulars, asking a city guard about his daughter’s recovery from a cold, teasing a young apprentice about his new haircut. She moved through the chaos with an unshakable, infectious calm, her bright smile a beacon in the noisy, crowded room. She was more than just a tavern wench; she was the heart and soul of the Gilded Flagon, the social lubricant that kept the entire chaotic machine from grinding to a halt.

Mei Jing, Lloyd noted with interest, seemed to know her personally, offering a warm smile and a familiar wave when Tisha’s whirlwind path finally brought her near their table. “Mei!” Tisha exclaimed, her own smile widening with genuine pleasure. “I didn’t see you come in! Grandfather keeping you busy with his dusty old ledgers?”

“Something like that, Tisha,” Mei Jing replied with a laugh. “This is my… new associate, Lord—"

“Just Lloyd,” Lloyd interjected quickly, offering Tisha a friendly, appreciative smile. “And I have to say, Tisha, watching you work is more impressive than any dueling tournament I’ve ever seen.”

Tisha laughed, a bright, cheerful sound. “Just keeping the peace, my lord. Someone has to make sure the ale keeps flowing and the furniture stays in one piece.” Her hazel eyes flickered between Lloyd and Mei Jing, a spark of shrewd, good-natured curiosity in them. “So, a new associate, eh, Mei? Finally escaped the thrilling world of textile import tariffs?”

The easy camaraderie, the clear friendship between the sharp, professional Mei Jing and the warm, charismatic Tisha, was another piece of the puzzle for Lloyd. He was beginning to understand. This wasn't just Ken finding a random, talented commoner. This was a recommendation from within his own trusted circle.

He had seen enough. More than enough. This wasn't just a potential asset. This was the solution. The perfect, irreplaceable, charismatic solution to his chaotic factory gate problem.

He leaned forward, his expression serious now, his voice quiet but clear, cutting through the surrounding din. “Tisha,” he began, “my associate and I have a business proposal for you. One that might involve slightly less spilled ale and significantly fewer drunken mercenaries. Assuming, of course,” he added, a wry smile touching his lips, “you’re not too attached to the… carrot-related trauma… of the Gilded Flagon.”

Tisha’s bright smile faltered for a fraction of a second, her hazel eyes widening with surprised curiosity. She looked from Lloyd’s serious face to Mei Jing’s knowing, encouraging smile, and then back again. A business proposal? From a lord? With Mei Jing?

Her life, she had a sudden, profound feeling, was about to get considerably more interesting. And probably, significantly less sticky.

---

The offer Lloyd laid out for Tisha, there in the noisy, ale-scented chaos of the Gilded Flagon, was simple, direct, and utterly life-changing. He didn’t condescend. He didn’t posture. He spoke to her as he had spoken to Mei Jing—as a professional recruiting another professional for a critical role.

He described the AURA brand, not just the soap, but the concept, the ‘unspoken promise of refinement’. He described the factory, the team, the vision. And then, he described the problem: the chaotic gate, the overwhelmed staff, the clash between their luxury brand identity and the messy reality of their overwhelming success.

“We need you, Tisha,” Lloyd concluded, his voice earnest, his gaze direct. “We don’t need a clerk to take names. We need a diplomat to manage expectations. We don’t need a guard to keep order. We need a charismatic leader to build a community. We need a Head of Customer Relations and Public Interface. And,” he paused, then delivered the offer, “we are prepared to offer you a starting salary of one hundred and twenty Gold Coins per year, plus performance-based bonuses.”

Chapter: 274

Silence. The roar of the Gilded Flagon seemed to fade into a distant hum. Tisha stared at him, her bright, cheerful smile completely gone, replaced by an expression of pure, slack-jawed, comprehensive shock. One hundred and twenty Gold Coins. A year. To a commoner, a tavern wench, it was not just a fortune; it was a fantasy. It was more money than her entire family had likely seen in three generations combined. It was the kind of sum that could buy a small farm, a city townhouse, a life of security and comfort she had never, ever, dared to dream of.

“One… one hundred and twenty…?” she stammered, her voice a thin, reedy whisper. She looked at Mei Jing, her eyes wide with disbelief, searching for confirmation that this wasn't some cruel, elaborate joke.

Mei Jing simply nodded, her expression warm, encouraging. “He is serious, Tisha. The position is real. And your skills… they are worth every bronze piece, and more.”

Tisha looked back at Lloyd, her mind clearly reeling, trying to process the sheer, life-altering magnitude of the offer. Then, a flicker of something else, something beyond mere shock, entered her warm hazel eyes. A spark of pride. Of recognition. This lord, this powerful, strange, innovative young nobleman, wasn't just offering her money. He was offering her respect. He was acknowledging her unique, often-overlooked talent not as a mere tavern trick, but as a valuable, professional skill worthy of immense compensation.

She took a deep, shaky breath, her composure slowly, remarkably, reasserting itself. The initial shock gave way to a dawning, brilliant excitement. A new challenge. A new stage. A chance to use her gifts for something more than just preventing bar brawls and soothing grumpy merchants.

“I… I accept, my lord,” Tisha said, her voice trembling slightly, but firm with a newfound resolve. She offered him not a curtsy, but a direct, steady gaze, a look of partnership. “When do I start?”

Lloyd grinned, a wave of profound relief washing over him. “As soon as you can gracefully extricate yourself from the Gilded Flagon’s carrot-related traumas,” he replied. “Welcome to the AURA team, Tisha.”

Tisha’s integration into the Elixir Manufactory was seamless, transformative, and immediate. The very next day, she arrived at the factory gate, not in her practical tavern attire, but in a simple but well-made dress of dark green wool, her hair neatly braided, her expression calm, bright, and ready for battle.

The scene at the gate was its usual state of near-riot. A minor Viscountess was loudly berating Jasmin, on the verge of tears, about the status of her order. Two burly traders were attempting to shove their way to the front of the line. The air was thick with entitlement and frustration.

Tisha didn't hesitate. She walked directly into the heart of the chaos, her bright smile a disarming weapon.

“My Lady Viscountess!” she exclaimed, her voice cheerful, respectful, yet carrying an undeniable authority that made the noblewoman pause mid-tirade. “A pleasure to see you! I am Tisha, the new Relations Manager for AURA. I understand there has been some confusion regarding your order. Please, allow me to personally escort you to our new, comfortable waiting area,” (she gestured towards a set of benches and a water barrel she had insisted they set up just inside the gate) “while I personally investigate the matter. Jasmin, my dear, you look exhausted. Go, take a break. I will handle this.”

The Viscountess, her anger momentarily deflated by the unexpected, professional courtesy, allowed herself to be led away. Jasmin shot Tisha a look of pure, unadulterated, tearful gratitude before practically fleeing back into the relative sanity of the factory.

Tisha then turned to the two shoving traders, her smile never wavering, but her hazel eyes gaining a firm, no-nonsense glint. “Gentlemen! Such enthusiasm! We at AURA appreciate your eagerness. However,” her voice remained friendly, but acquired an edge of steel, “our queueing system, like our soap, is designed for fairness and refinement. Pushing will not expedite your order; it will, in fact, place it at the very bottom of today’s list for review. Now,” she gestured towards the back of the line, her smile becoming bright and encouraging again, “if you would be so kind? The line starts back there. And I believe Cook has just sent out some rather excellent honey-cakes for our patient and valued future clients.”

The traders, faced with a combination of unshakeable politeness, a clear, logical consequence, and the promise of free cake, grumbled, but complied. The crisis was averted. The queue began to form. Order, slowly, miraculously, began to emerge from the chaos.

Later that day, Tisha sat with Lloyd and Mei Jing in the office, a pot of surprisingly decent tea (one of Tisha’s first official requisitions) between them.