Intrigued by the foreign commoner he had glimpsed, Count Cress Matteus made his way to one of his smaller taverns. His sharp eyes landed on the modest extension beside it—a tiny stall with simple wares on display. And there you were, tending to customers with quiet grace.

"Ah, there you are!" he mused, striding toward the wooden structure with effortless charm.

Leaning in, his gaze flickered between the berries, jams, and eggs before settling on you. "Tell me, sweet maiden," he drawled, resting his chin on his palm. "How much for a smile—and perhaps a kiss on your hand?"