Reincarnated as Napoleon II-Chapter 71: Le Bon Marche Part 1

Heading to their first goal, Napoleon II guided Elisabeth through the crowds, wading in-between spaces.

He kept one hand slightly raised, not touching her, just enough to signal direction. People adjusted without complaint. A step aside here. A pause there. The flow bent and closed behind them.

Napoleon II angled them toward the center of the building.

Elisabeth noticed the change first. The ceiling rose higher. Light poured down from above through a wide opening that revealed another level.

"There’s a second floor," she said.

"There are three," he replied. "We’ll start with the second."

As they approached the opening, she slowed.

People were lining up in an orderly row. Not for a counter. Not for a cashier. They stood facing a wide moving structure made of metal steps.

The steps were... moving.

They rose steadily, one after another, carrying people upward.

"What is that?" she asked.

Napoleon II glanced at it, then back at her. "An escalator."

She watched a man step onto it, stand still, and rise as if lifted by an invisible hand.

"It’s a staircase," she said carefully, "but it moves."

"Yes."

"And people just let it carry them?"

"Yes."

She frowned. "That doesn’t seem safe."

"It’s safer than it looks," he said. "The speed is fixed. The steps lock into place as they rise. You stand, hold the rail if you want, and let it do the work."

She watched another woman step on without hesitation, one hand resting lightly on the moving handrail.

They reached the front of the line. Napoleon II guided her to the step.

"Now, we don’t want to hold up the traffic, come on. Stand straight and step when the edge flattens," Napoleon II finished quietly.

Elisabeth nodded once.

She watched the steps closely. One dipped down. Another rose. She timed it, then moved.

Her boot landed on the metal step. It shifted under her weight, then locked. The motion carried her upward at once.

She stiffened.

"Oohhh..." she giggled.

Her hand caught the rail. It moved with her

Napoleon II glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Sorry ladies, this is her first time."

The girls giggled, covering their mouths with their fans.

He stepped on behind her without hesitation. The distance between them closed as the escalator carried them together.

Elisabeth kept her eyes forward. The floor below slid away. The crowd shrank slowly beneath them.

They rose in silence for a few seconds. The second floor approached, the edge of the step flattening as it met the landing.

"Step forward when it levels," Napoleon II said.

She did. One step, then another. Solid ground again.

Elisabeth exhaled and turned back to look at the escalator as it carried the next line of people upward.

"That," she said, "is dangerous only if you’re careless. Okay, where is the shop?"

"I believe it’s in this floor, let’s find it," Napoleon II said, already moving.

He led her away from the opening and into the second floor proper. The air felt calmer up here. Fewer people. Wider spacing between counters. The noise dropped to a steady murmur instead of a constant rush.

They passed displays of hats first. Rows of them. Felt, silk, wool. Dark colors dominated, with the occasional muted blue or brown. Clerks stood behind the counters, hands folded, eyes alert but unintrusive.

Elisabeth slowed, her gaze drifting across the shelves.

"Beautiful..." she murmured under her breath.

Then, moments later, they found it. A glass-facade store with patrons already inside, eating their delicious cakes.

Napoleon II led the way inside, opening the door for them, and the moment they stepped in, they noticed the fragrant smell of the cake and freshly-brewed coffee. It was enticing.

Along the wall stood a long glass display chiller. Inside, cakes were arranged in clean tiers. Strawberry shortcake. Chocolate layers. Fruit tarts glazed to a dull shine. Cream held its shape, edges clean, no sagging.

Elisabeth drifted toward it without thinking.

She leaned closer, eyes scanning the rows. Her hand lifted and rested lightly against the glass.

She paused.

"It’s cold," she said.

Napoleon II stepped beside her. "It’s a chiller, it maintains a cold temperature inside so that the cake stays frozen."

"I see..."

"Good afternoon! What can I get for you lovely couple today?" the cashier asked.

"Uhm..." Elisabeth looked up to Napoleon II.

Napoleon II smiled, it’s her first time ordering from a store. "Let me get a strawberry cake. Two slices."

The cashier nodded and turned to the display. "Strawberry shortcake. Two."

"And tea," Napoleon II added. "One pot."

"Black or green?"

"Black," he said.

The glass panel slid open. Cold air spilled out from it. The server lifted two slices carefully, set them on small white china plates, then closed the panel. Another clerk poured hot water over tea leaves behind the counter, steam rising and vanishing into the room.

The cashier wrote the order down, then looked up. "That will be twelve francs."

Napoleon II reached into his coat without hesitation and placed the bills on the counter.

"Please take a seat," the cashier said. "We’ll bring it over."

They moved to a small table near the window.

Elisabeth sat first, smoothing her coat before resting her hands on the table.

"I’ve never ordered like that before," she said quietly.

"It’s fine, you’ll learn." Napoleon II replied, taking the seat across from her.

Moments later, the plates arrived. Two neat slices of strawberry cake.

A teapot followed, porcelain warm to the touch, with two cups placed beside it.

Elisabeth looked down at the cake, then up at him.

"Twelve francs," she said. "For all this."

"Yes, it’s quite expensive really," Napoleon II said. "Did you know that the average worker in Paris makes 5 francs a day."

"That expensive?" Elisabeth’s eyes widened, and looked down at the strawberry slice cake. "I didn’t know..."

"Don’t worry, five francs a day is a good salary. It just means that they can’t eat in this place everyday. But they can on special occasions, where they’ll treat themselves once in a while. So shall we eat?"

"Yes,"