Jungkook slumped over the bakery counter, his cheek squished against the cool marble, eyes vacant. Around him, his bustling bakery was overflowing with nobles draped in unnecessarily elaborate silk robes, sipping tea from porcelain cups that probably cost more than his house back in the real world. They daintily nibbled on his pastries, sighing in bliss, murmuring about how "exquisite" and "otherworldly" his creations were.

It should have been a good thing. It should have meant he was swimming in gold by now. And yet—

"We're not making nearly enough money," Jungkook groaned, reaching out to scratch behind the ears of his tiny baby fox, Aera.

Aera, a little ball of fluff with big round eyes, let out a sorrowful whimper, as if she too understood the tragedy of their financial situation.

"I know, cutie," Jungkook muttered, holding her like a lifeline.

Across the counter, Hoseok—the man Jungkook had naively brought in as his business partner, thinking he'd keep things organized—flipped through the bakery's account book with the grim look of someone identifying a body at a crime scene.

Jungkook already knew what he was going to say, but he braced for it anyway.

"Okay," Hoseok finally spoke, snapping the book shut with a thud. "At this rate, we'll break even in... let me see... never."

Jungkook groaned louder, burying his face in Aera's fur.

"Good news, though," Hoseok continued, ignoring his suffering. "I have a plan."

Jungkook peeked out, suspicious. "A legal plan?"

Hoseok scoffed. "That hurts me. Everything I do is legal. Technically."

Jungkook just stared.

Hoseok sighed. "Fine, fine. You should host a bake-off."

Jungkook blinked. "...A what?"

"A bake-off!" Hoseok threw his hands up. "The nobles are obsessed with your bakery, yeah? And nobles love competition. You set up a big event, let them fight over who can bake the best pastry, and charge an outrageous participation fee. It'll be easy money!"

Jungkook considered this for a full two seconds before slamming his palms on the counter.

"Genius. Announce it immediately."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The problem was, jungkook underestimated the nobles.

He thought this would be simple.

A few wealthy aristocrats showing up, failing to make a decent pie, getting flour in their ridiculous outfits, and going home. Maybe a minor scandal if someone cried over burnt shortbread.

But no.

The moment the bake-off was announced, chaos erupted.

This was not just a casual competition to them. This was war.

The nobles immediately started forming alliances. Chefs were hired. Secret strategies were devised. Spellbooks older than the empire itself were dusted off to look for magical recipe enhancements. Some competitors went so far as to send servants to try and bribe Jungkook for insider tips—one particularly desperate duke even tried to give him a diamond-encrusted rolling pin.

Jungkook was too stunned to be offended.

And then, just when he thought things couldn't spiral further out of control—

Taehyung showed up.

The Emperor.

Jungkook watched in real-time as the bakery doors were kicked open and Taehyung strolled in like he owned the place (which, legally speaking, he technically did). His silk robes shimmered with a level of embroidery so obnoxious it probably required a team of thirty artisans working around the clock.

And on his face?

That smug, scheming, I'm-about-to-ruin-your-life smile.

Jungkook barely had time to process before Taehyung clapped a hand on his shoulder and declared, loud enough for the entire bakery to hear—

"I shall join Jungkook's team!"

Jungkook choked on his own breath.

"Wh—NO. No, you shall not! This is supposed to be fair!"

Taehyung simply patted his head. "Yes, yes. And I shall fairly win alongside you."

Silence.

Then—

Gasps. Scandalized whispers. Someone in the corner fainted.

Jungkook's stomach sank.

The bake-off was no longer just a bake-off. The moment Taehyung declared his involvement, it escalated. Nobles started strategizing harder. There was talk of hiring mercenary bakers. Ingredients were being smuggled in from foreign lands. One lady even commissioned a fortune teller to predict the winning recipe.

Jungkook wanted to scream. He just wanted to make money. Now, he was staring at what could only be described as a full-blown noble war disguised as a baking competition.

Hoseok, sipping tea in the corner like he had personally orchestrated this entire disaster, smirked.

"Oh," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "This is gonna be fun."

Aera let out a tiny, deeply concerned yip.

Jungkook, clutching his tiny fox and the last shred of his sanity, exhaled slowly.