25.
“I’d like to take your measurements. Who would like to go first?”
“Mom, go first.”
Roanna whispered, glancing at Idre.
“Are you really going to have these custom-made?”
“Yes. Don’t worry about the cost.”
Roanna rose from her seat, sensing the finality in Idre’s tone.
“Could you come this way? And you, young lady, feel free to look through the catalog at your leisure.”
Every time Idre adjusted the measuring tape, Roanna shifted her stance, instinctively making the work easier.
Idre swallowed a flicker of surprise. Without a family name provided, she had assumed them to be commoners, yet their poise and posture were unmistakably refined.
The measurements finished quickly, and Marin stepped up.
Marin, too, allowed her measurements to be taken with an ease that betrayed a familiar habit.
“I’m terribly thin, aren’t I?”
Feeling the weight of the silence, Marin spoke up first.
“Pardon? Not at all. You have the kind of physique many noble ladies would kill for.”
Idre’s eyes widened, genuinely surprised by the self-deprecation, and she offered a sincere compliment. Come to think of it, she knew plenty of noblewomen who starved themselves for such a frame. In her own case, however, the skinniness was merely a byproduct of prolonged poverty.
Marin observed Idre as she worked with a newfound curiosity. She finally understood why the female lead had gravitated toward her. Though they were roughly the same age, Idre possessed the steady, grounded air of an older sister.
“There, all done. Shall we look at the catalog?”
“Yes.”
Settling back onto the sofa, Marin flipped through the book Idre had designed herself. It had been an age since she’d seen a boutique catalog, and she found herself captivated immediately.
“Since you mentioned wanting a winter dress, Roanna, I think a high neckline in thick wool would be lovely. I recommend burgundy.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
Roanna smiled, visibly pleased.
“As for Lady Marin, pastels suit you best. I’d like to suggest this design in a pale sky blue.”
The dress Idre gestured to was exquisite, with a pearl-studded neckline that mimicked a necklace and a skirt that flared like a bell.
“It’s beautiful. But I was hoping for something with a bit more mobility.”
“Oh, my! You can have this one, and we’ll pick out a more practical piece as well!”
Idre’s blue eyes sparkled as she pivoted into full sales mode.
“I think one active dress is enough for me. Instead, could you show me another option for my mother?”
“Oh my, oh my. Goodness, Mr. Olive was right.”
Idre closed the catalog, her lips twitching as she struggled to suppress a laugh.
“What do you mean?”
“He said that if you two didn’t choose your clothes carefully, you’d end up buying every single item I brought, plus every dress in this entire catalog—shoes and accessories included.”
“Pardon?”
Marin asked, bewildered, and Roanna gasped in surprise.
“I mean, I’d love the commission, but… pffft-hehehe.”
Unable to hold back, Idre burst into a hearty laugh.
“C-catalog, let me see it again.”
Marin hurriedly reopened the pages.
“Oh my, are you sure?”
Idre smacked her lips with mock regret, then launched into a long, detailed explanation of the collection.
* * *
She had received more dresses than she ever thought possible, and a heavy sense of debt settled on her shoulders.
Marin slumped in the study, flipping through a book listlessly. The Duke had bestowed upon her far more than she deserved: a warm home, nutritious meals, a handsome sum of money, and now, fine clothing.
In the span of a few weeks, she had secured the basic pillars of life—food, clothing, and shelter.
It was a sobering realization that until now, she had lived a life where even those basics were luxuries. While she was grateful, the weight of his kindness was becoming suffocating. It felt like she was sinking a dagger into the back of a man who was already suffering.
Her conscience didn’t just prick; it ached.
The only thing she could offer in return was the comfort of fairy tales to lull him to sleep. The image of the sharp letter opener on the desk flickered in her mind.
“You don’t look well.”
A child’s clear voice drifted up from her waist.
She looked down to find Zero gazing at her with characteristic concern.
“Zero.”
“Why the long face? Shouldn’t you be happy?”
“What should I be happy about?”
Marin asked, trying to shake off her gloom.
“I heard you spent the day buying dresses.”
“Did word get around?”
Marin glanced around nervously.
“No. Olive mentioned it. Girls usually love buying dresses, so why are you so down?”
Zero asked with sparkling, inquisitive eyes.
“I do like dresses.”
Marin forced a weak smile.
“Then why that expression?”
Zero narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her. Marin hesitated, then decided to be honest.
“I’ve received… too much.”
“Why worry about that? The Duke has so much money. Probably more than the Emperor.”
“Is he really that wealthy?”
Marin’s eyes rounded.
“The Ducal family manages the desert trade exclusively, after all.”
“Ah, right.”
Marin nodded, the realization hitting home. Knowing he was wealthier than the Emperor diluted her guilt, if only slightly.
No, that wasn’t the point.
Marin shook her head rapidly. Just because he was rich didn’t mean she should accept everything blindly; that would be shameless. She had to find a way to make amends. She looked at Zero, and her mind returned to the Mandlesong she had been trying to avoid thinking about.
“Um, Zero.”
“Yes?”
“That Mandlesong poison—how severe is the stomach ache?”
“It varies depending on the person’s constitution.”
“I see…”
“Why are you so interested in Mandlesong?”
Zero asked, tilting his head.
“It’s just… I heard from the common folk that it was good for the body.”
Marin concocted an excuse, her expression stiff. Zero nodded, seemingly satisfied.
“Since commoners lack access to doctors, some try to find relief in flowers or wild herbs.”
“Do you happen to know of any medicine that cures the pain caused by it?”
“You. I am not a doctor.”
Zero looked up at her with a prickly retort.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I just felt like you might know everything.”
At that, Zero looked smug.
“That is true. There is medicine for stomach aches, though it isn’t specifically for Mandlesong. Do you need it?”
“Yes!”
Marin nodded fervently, her side hair fluttering.
“Fine. I’ll bring it to you.”
“Thank you.”
Watching Zero’s small back as he retreated, Marin steeled her resolve. She would test it herself, just once. If she couldn’t risk the Duke being poisoned, she would have to determine the true lethality of the substance on her own.
* * *
Back in her room, Marin placed the borrowed fairy tale book and the medicine from Zero on the table. The navy blue dress she had hesitated over that morning still lay on the bed.
“This is perfect for working.”
Marin changed, picked up a picnic basket, and stepped out the door, only to run straight into Yuria in the hallway.
“Lady Marin, where are you going?”
Yuria scanned her attire with a surprised expression.
“Going to work.”
“Work? Are you going to see His Grace in that dress?”
Yuria looked horrified.
“No, no. Different work.”
“Oh, is that so? That’s a relief.”
Seeing Yuria’s look of relief, Marin nodded, feeling a pang of shame. She realized once again just how shabby her wardrobe remained.
“I’ll be back.”
Leaving Yuria behind, Marin slipped out of the annex.