"This damn mission is finally over." Dottore lay flat on a table, completely dead to the world. For the past month, he had lost count of how many batches of desserts he had sold.
To make matters worse, Scaramouche was utterly unhinged, placing two orders a day with at least ten portions of every dessert per order.
"I remember he supposedly didn't even like sweets? Weren't his preferences supposed to be on the lighter side?"
Chapter 35