24.
The next day, Marin sat lost in thought, staring at the dress spread across her bed.
The navy garment, fashioned from stiff, unforgiving fabric, was unsightly and unmistakably shabby. Because the light pink dress she usually reserved for public appearances had torn, this was the only wearable option she had left.
She let out a groan, and a moment later, a knock sounded at the door. Yuria’s soft voice followed.
“It’s Yuria.”
“Come in.”
Marin draped a robe over her nightgown to greet her. Yuria glanced at the shabby navy dress on the bed before hurriedly lifting the light pink one she held in her hands.
“Lady Marin. I’ve fixed the sleeve.”
“What? Already?”
“Yes, right here.”
Marin watched with wide eyes as she unfolded the garment Yuria offered. The torn sleeve had been flawlessly mended with intricate floral embroidery. It looked as if Yuria had laundered it, too; the dirt that had stained the hem was completely gone.
“Yuria, you’re truly amazing.”
Marin’s jaw dropped in genuine admiration.
“It’s nothing.”
Yuria spoke shyly, but her reddened eyes betrayed her. It was clear she hadn’t slept at all, having spent the entire night mending the fabric.
“Thank you so much. I was genuinely worried because I had nothing else to wear.”
“I’m happy if you like it, Lady Marin.”
Yuria beamed, her eyes sparkling with joy.
“You really are talented. Where did you learn how to do that?”
“I’ve always loved embroidery, so I used to practice on scrap fabric.”
“Wow! It’s truly excellent.”
At Marin’s continued praise, Yuria grew visibly uneasy and shifted the subject.
“I’ve brought breakfast to Lady Roanna’s room.”
“Oh, thank you. Wait, just a moment.”
Marin pulled ten silver coins from her pouch and offered them to Yuria. The girl waved her hands frantically, looking flustered.
“I didn’t do this for payment.”
“I know, Yuria. I have already received more than enough of your kindness. But I want to pay for your talent.”
“My talent?”
Yuria’s red eyes wavered in confusion.
“Yes. I like this sleeve embroidery very much. Will you accept it?”
“……Thank you.”
Yuria forcibly held back the tears welling up in her eyes and carefully took the coins. It was a massive sum for a simple repair. It was the first time someone had ever told her she had talent, even going so far as to offer compensation for it. Once again, Yuria’s loyalty toward Marin deepened.
***
Marin stepped into the drawing room, only to be so startled that she slammed the door shut immediately. Olive, standing beside her, watched her with his usual impassive smile.
“Mr. Olive, is that… inside there?”
Marin pointed at the door, her eyes wide.
“Yes.”
“You expect me to go in there?”
“Indeed. The maids who insulted Lady Marin and Lady Roanna are, for the time being, employees of the Duke’s Estate. His Grace the Duke has arranged this as a gesture of apology.”
“Is that what that means? I simply expected to buy a dress at a boutique!”
She had been in the office yesterday, too. The Duke had clearly called for Olive and said only one word: “Boutique.” She hadn’t realized that single command could be stretched into such an elaborate operation.
“You remember that I was there as well, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
Olive smiled with nonchalance.
“He noted that as winter approaches, you should have warm clothing tailored. Lady Roanna as well.”
“The Duke said that?”
“Yes.”
Olive replied with a grin.
“I told you, I was there.”
“Oh, Lady Roanna has arrived. Shall we go in?”
Olive nodded toward Roanna and deftly shifted the subject, pretending not to have heard her protest. Roanna and Yuria, who had accompanied her, stood there with perplexed expressions, entirely unaware of the situation.
“Marin.”
“Mother.”
“Is something the matter?”
Roanna whispered, keeping a wary eye on Olive. Marin looked at the dress her mother was wearing without a word. The sleeves of her brown dress were badly frayed, and the fabric was in poor condition—worse, it was a thin summer gown entirely unsuited for the coming cold.
“Mr. Olive was right.”
Olive, standing behind them, smiled faintly.
“Mother, we need to buy some dresses.”
“Dresses?”
Roanna tilted her head in confusion.
“Yes. His Grace the Duke owes me a debt, and he told me to spend to my heart’s content. Let’s spend until the Duke’s fortune is depleted.”
Marin stood tall, speaking with newfound confidence.
“*Cough*.”
Olive, listening from behind, let out a rough breath, but she pretended not to notice. Once Marin had decided to accept the Duke’s offer, she intended to do so thoroughly and return the favor.
“Let’s go in.”
With a faint smile, Olive took the lead and threw open both doors to the drawing room. The space had been decorated with the kind of opulence characteristic of the Duke’s Estate. In the center, at a tea table, a woman sat, savoring her drink. Behind her, a row of mannequins stood, draped in exquisite gowns.
Marin stared at the display with a sense of overwhelm. The sheer number of dresses was what had startled her into closing the door earlier. She had expected to pick out a single gown at a local shop; she had never imagined a boutique would be relocated directly into the estate.
Olive led the party to the table and introduced the visitor.
“This is Idre Smil, a designer from the Bloria Dress Shop.”
“Greetings. I am Idre Smil.”
Setting down her teacup, Idre stood to greet them. She wore a white gown accented with a black pearl necklace that hung long against her chest. With her brown hair and blue eyes, Idre was a supporting character from the novel, destined to become the female protagonist’s exclusive designer.
Meeting a character from the pages of the story created a strange, internal sense of familiarity.
“Hello. My name is Marin.”
As Marin greeted her, Roanna introduced herself as well. Idre maintained a composed expression, though she was clearly observant. Her shop, Bloria Dress Shop, was a small, struggling establishment. Because she didn’t follow fleeting trends, the aristocrats who chased the latest fashions rarely bothered to visit. In short, she was always on the verge of bankruptcy.
But at last, an opportunity had arrived. She had been contacted by the Vines Ducal Family, the wealthiest in the Empire, with only one condition: absolute silence. The Duke, currently sequestered due to injury, needed a designer? If this rumor leaked, the Western social circle would be turned upside down.
Idre was more than happy to comply with the secrecy requirement, especially for such a lavish reward.
“I trust you will keep your lips sealed. It doesn’t matter if it’s a few dozen or a few hundred dresses; please prepare everything these ladies desire, including matching shoes and accessories. If you do not select enough, I shall order every single dress you brought as well as every piece in your catalog.”
Idre suppressed a smile as she studied the two women. The older woman was thin and looked sickly, though she must have been a beauty in her youth. The younger woman was also slender, but possessed a charming look and striking, vibrant lime-colored eyes.
“Then, I shall excuse myself so the ladies may work. Lady Marin.”
“Yes.”
Olive approached Marin and whispered softly.
“You may rest until the afternoon, and only come by when it is time to sleep.”
“Yes. I understand.”
Marin whispered back, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. She knew exactly how dangerous it was for a grown woman to visit the Duke’s private quarters late at night.
Once Olive closed the door and left, the women in the room exchanged awkward glances. Yuria hurried to clear the empty teacups.
“I, I will go, go fetch some tea and snacks.”
Stumbling over her words, Yuria’s face flushed red under the gaze of the strangers.
“Yes. Thank you.”
Seeing Marin’s warm smile, Yuria nodded quickly and exited the room. Idre looked at the remaining two with a professional, commercial smile.
“I would like to take your measurements. Who shall I begin with?”