Chapter 52 – How Not to Announce a Promotion

  Thwack.

  “Ow—Mom?” Lucien yelped, stumbling back.

  “What kind of news delivery is this?” Cerys scolded, absolutely unapologetic as she swatted his knee again. “Do you enjoy giving people heart attacks? Do you think this is how normal humans announce promotions?”

  “Mom, wait”

  Thwack.

  Mira gasped, then immediately covered her mouth, torn between shock and laughter.

  “You said she was relieved of her duties!” Cerys continued, pacing after him as he retreated. “Relieved! Do you have any idea what that sounds like? I nearly threw you out myself!”

  Darius folded his arms and nodded solemnly. “You brought this on yourself.”

  Lucien tried to dodge, laughing now despite himself. “I was building tension!”

  “This is not a theatre!”

  Thwack.

  Alina burst into giggles, clapping her hands. “Bad Luci! Bad!”

  The staff lost it.

  Rian laughed so hard he had to grab the counter. Jareth shook his head with a rare grin.

  Mariel wiped tears from her eyes. Even Elias chuckled, muttering something about “inefficient communication methods.”

  Lucien finally surrendered, raising his hands. “Okay, okay! Lesson learned! No more dramatic pauses!”

  Cerys did not stop immediately.

  Lucien had barely finished dodging one swat when another landed squarely against his calf, not hard enough to hurt but loud enough to make a point.

  “You enjoy suspense far too much,” she scolded, tapping him again for emphasis.

  “Normal people explain things before causing emotional damage.”

  “I was going to explain!” Lucien protested, half laughing, half groaning as he backed away. “I just didn’t expect…”

  “That’s exactly the problem,” Cerys cut in. “You never expect.”

  The café rang with laughter.

  Darius leaned casually against the counter, shaking his head with a smile that said he was enjoying this far more than he should. The staff had completely given up on pretending to be professional about it. Even Mira, still recovering from emotional whiplash, was laughing through lingering disbelief.

  And then there was Riven.

  Riven was laughing the hardest.

  He had leaned so far back in his chair that Kaelen had to grab the edge of it to keep him from toppling over.

  “Oh, this is beautiful,” Riven said between laughs. “Absolutely beautiful. You know, just earlier today, someone smacked the back of my head for joking around and said I went too far.”

  Lucien shot him a look.

  “And now,” Riven continued gleefully, “that same someone is getting chased around the café by his own mother. Karma is real. I have seen it.”

  Lucien stopped retreating and raised both hands. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Message received.”

  Cerys stopped at last, huffing, then pointed the stick at him one final time. “Good. Because next time, it won’t be this light.”

  “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “now that I think about it, my sense of humor didn’t used to be this bad.”

  Riven froze mid-laugh.

  Lucien continued, thoughtful. “In fact, I’m fairly certain it deteriorated only after prolonged exposure to you.”

  The café went silent for exactly one second.

  Then everyone turned to look at Riven.

  Riven sputtered. “Hey, hey! You don’t seriously believe that, right?” He gestured wildly.

  “He’s just shifting blame to escape punishment! This is character assassination!”

  Seliora stood up calmly, folded her book once, and smacked Riven hard on the head with it.

  “You are a bad influence,” she said flatly.

  Kaelen nodded in agreement.

  Dorian hummed, clearly agreeing with the accusation after some thought.

  Evelis nodded too, entirely sincere.

  Riven stared at them in horror. “All of you? Really?”

  “This is a conspiracy,” he declared. “I’m being scapegoated.”

  Lucien laughed despite himself. “To be fair,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn’t mean it quite like that. But once I said it out loud, I realized I phrased it… poorly.”

  Cerys raised a brow. “Poorly?”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “And before I could fix it,” Lucien continued, glancing at Mira, “the atmosphere had already shifted. So, I thought… well. Let’s see where this goes. I’m really sorry about that.”

  He winced. “In hindsight, terrible decision.”

  Mira crossed her arms, then shook her head with a small smile. “If you weren’t my employer,” she said lightly, “I would have punched you.”

  Cerys immediately rested a hand on Lucien’s shoulder. “You may,” she told Mira firmly. “I give permission.”

  “Mom!”

  The room erupted again.

  Mira laughed, the last of the tension finally leaving her shoulders. “It’s fine,” she said.

  “I’ll accept the promotion as compensation.”

  Lucien exhaled in relief. “That’s a bargain I’m happy to take.”

  Darius cleared his throat once the laughter finally died down.

  “So,” he said, folding his arms and fixing Lucien with a look that was equal parts curiosity and caution, “this new branch you just announced. When exactly did you start thinking about that?”

  Lucien hesitated for half a second, then answered honestly.

  “Not today,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”

  That earned him everyone’s attention.

  “The café’s already saturated,” Lucien continued. “We hit full capacity almost every day. People walk in, see there’s no space, and leave. I’ve been noticing it for weeks. Every time it happens, it feels like we’re turning customers away not because of demand, but because of space limitations.”

  He shrugged slightly. “That’s not a good place to stay for too long.”

  Cerys nodded slowly. “That part, I understand.”

  “And then,” Lucien went on, “after the video started spreading and went viral on the MICF network, it just… clicked. If attention is already there, why not meet it where it’s coming from?”

  “The students,” Darius said.

  “Exactly,” Lucien replied. “They spend freely, especially on food and coffee. They don’t hesitate, and they come in groups. MICF is basically a constant flow of customers.”

  Cerys focused her eyes slightly. “So, you decided to open a branch there.”

  Lucien nodded.

  “And you’ve already started preparations?” she asked.

  Lucien opened his mouth.

  Then closed it again.

  Mira, who had been listening quietly until now, slowly turned to look at him. The dawning realization on her face was unmistakable.

  “…You haven’t started yet,” she said slowly.

  Lucien winced.

  “I haven’t initiated the process yet,” he clarified quickly. “That doesn’t mean I won’t.”

  Mira stared at him, visibly dumbfounded. Just moments ago, she had been mentally preparing herself to take over a fully planned branch, imagining staffing charts, supply routes, and schedules. Now it sounded like the idea had only just crossed the finish line from thought to declaration.

  Seeing her expression, Lucien immediately raised his hands.

  “Hey, hey,” he said quickly. “That look is unnecessary.”

  “That look is very necessary,” Mira replied flatly.

  Lucien sighed. “I said I haven’t started the process yet. I didn’t say I won’t. I’ll handle the groundwork. The paperwork, the setup and the logistics.”

  He met her eyes steadily. “You’ll run it. That part isn’t changing.”

  Mira searched his face for a moment, then slowly exhaled. “You scared me for a second.”

  “That seems to be a theme today,” Riven muttered dryly.

  Lucien chose to ignore him.

  He turned toward Dorian.

  Dorian was already glaring at him.

  “Don’t,” Dorian said immediately. “Whatever thought just crossed your mind, don’t.”

  Lucien blinked. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You didn’t have to,” Dorian replied flatly. “I can see it on your face.”

  Lucien let out an awkward laugh. “I wasn’t going to dump it on you.”

  Dorian snorted. “You know that’s a lie. And I know that’s a lie. The only question is how long you were going to pretend otherwise.”

  Kaelen chuckled. Evelis smiled into her cup. Seliora shook her head in quiet amusement.

  Lucien rubbed his neck. “Okay, maybe I was going to ask for input.”

  Dorian crossed his arms. “That’s how it always starts.”

  The table laughed again, the tension dissolving into something comfortable and familiar.

  Once the laughter settled, Dorian continued, his tone shifting from teasing to thoughtful.

  “For what it’s worth,” he said, “MICF storefronts are almost never fully occupied. There’s a constant churn.”

  Lucien looked at him. “Churn?”

  “Vacancies,” Dorian clarified. “People see the foot traffic, assume it’s easy money, and rush in thinking they’ll start printing coins the moment they open. Then reality hits.”

  He leaned back slightly. “Rent is high, staffing costs add up, and competition is brutal. If someone isn’t prepared, they burn through savings fast and have no choice but to close.”

  Kaelen frowned. “So, places open and shut all the time?”

  “Exactly,” Dorian replied. “That’s why availability isn’t the issue. There are always spaces opening up. The real problem is sustainability.”

  Lucien nodded slowly, taking it in.

  “I’m confident in what we offer,” he said. “The quality, the variety, the consistency. We’re not relying on novelty alone.”

  Dorian nodded in agreement. “That part I don’t doubt. You already have students coming all the way from MICF to eat here. That alone tells me the branch won’t be deserted.”

  He paused, then added, “Just don’t go in expecting endless lines from day one. MICF rewards consistency more than hype.”

  Lucien smiled faintly. “That’s fair.”

  Riven leaned forward, curiosity sparking. “Can you actually buy storefronts there?”

  Dorian shook his head. “No. Everything on campus is leased.”

  “Of course it is,” Riven sighed. “That’s disappointing.”

  Dorian smiled knowingly. “It’s intentional. MICF doesn’t sell golden geese.”

  He gestured vaguely, as if outlining an invisible map. “Those storefronts generate steady revenue year after year. Rent, utilities, service fees. It’s a goldmine that lays golden eggs indefinitely.”

  He raised an eyebrow at Riven. “Why would they ever sell that to someone else?”

  Riven clicked his tongue. “Figures.”

  Lucien leaned back, thoughtful but calm.

  Evelis spoke next, her voice reflective. “Now that you mention it… we always rotate between the same two or three places on campus. Or we just leave MICF altogether.”

  She tilted her head slightly. “I never really thought about how difficult it must be for the others. Hearing it like this, it makes sense why only a handful actually last.”

  Seliora shot her an incredulous look. “That’s because you all refuse to try anything new.”

  Riven blinked. “We do try new places.”

  “Once,” Seliora shot back immediately. “And then the moment something feels even slightly different, you all decide it’s ‘not the same’ and go straight back to your favorites.”

  Kaelen chuckled. “Consistency matters.”

  Seliora groaned. “You’re all impossible. How would anyone else survive if no one even gives them a second chance?”

  Evelis laughed softly. “To be fair, the places we stick with usually earn it.”

  Seliora leaned back with a dramatic sigh. “Still. One day you’ll complain there’s no variety left, and I will remind you of this exact conversation.”

  Lucien listened to the exchange with a faint smile, the discussion unintentionally reinforcing what he already suspected.

  If they did this right, Café Ashborne wouldn’t just be another stop in a routine.

  It would become one of those places people always came back to.

  Lucien turned toward his parents then, the faint smile fading into something more deliberate.

  “What do you think?” he asked quietly. “About opening a branch at MICF. Are you both okay with moving forward with it?”

  Darius did not answer immediately. He leaned back in his chair, arms folding loosely as he considered everything Dorian had just said about the campus, the competition, and the churn of failed storefronts. Then he looked at Lucien, and smiled.

  “Do what you think is right,” Darius said simply. “I trust your judgment.”

  There was no hesitation in his voice, only certainty.

  Lucien felt it settle in his chest.

  Cerys had been listening just as closely. Dorian’s words about the difficulty of surviving on campus had worried her, even if she did not let it show on her face. She understood better than most how easily optimism could turn into strain when money, people, and responsibility were involved.

  But she also looked at Lucien and saw the way he had handled everything till now. Calm under pressure, thoughtful and decisive when it mattered.

  She nodded.

  “If you believe this is the right step,” Cerys said, “then I agree.”

  She reached out and gave his hand a light squeeze. “We have confidence in you.”

  Lucien exhaled slowly, something inside him easing at their words.

  That was all he needed.

  The café had outgrown itself.

  And everyone at the table could feel it.

  It was about expanding.