Mr. Penguin is a Busy Person

The morning kitchen of the hotel is a bustling place.

To prepare the buffet dishes, the chefs woke up at dawn to come to work, and the assistant staff arrived even earlier to prep the food.

At this point in time, with the increasing number of wealthy businessmen and competition between hotels intensifying, a hotel that wasn't bustling with breakfast preparations likely didn't exist in the capital of the United Kingdom.

However, this place was different.

The hotel where Governor-General Pastel—who had such a unique palate that eating the wrong thing would make her vomit blood—was staying had no commotion or noise, only the sound of whipping fresh cream echoing through it.

Lord Demon, wearing an apron, diligently whipped the cream. He was so skilled that his hands were a blur as he stirred, yet not a single drop of cream splattered from the bowl.

Pastel sat on a chair, swinging her legs as she watched his back. Her pink eyes stared at the demon through half-closed lids.

"I am worried sick. You finished all your work, yet instead of leaving the gambling den, you bet money on the Sky Mackerel race. Your misdeeds are only increasing as time goes on."

"I don't commit misdeeds. And, and, I think it's fine since I ended up breaking even with a seven-fold payout. Nathaniel lost everything. Governor-General Pastel made a total save."

"Yeah, right. A save, my foot."...