Before long, the designers returned, filing into the drawing room one by one, breathless.
Their swift arrival surprised me, though they claimed they hadn’t traveled far.
‘…Did they linger nearby, torn between the summons of the Duke Alzbeit and a paralyzing fear of retaliation from me?’
It was a reasonable assumption.
The designers all wore hopeful expressions now that I had beckoned them back. I sat with my legs crossed, tapping a finger against my lip. My eyes curved into alluring crescents. I heard one of them catch their breath.
“You said you could make anything?”
“Y-yes! That’s right!”
“Please use our shop, Biark!”
“We can do anything, even the most unconventional designs!”
“Hush.”
I gazed contentedly at the now-silent room. Then, with a flick of my finger, I beckoned a knight standing nearby. I wasn’t sure where Zett had gone today, so a different knight approached, looking hesitant.
“You, go and fetch the designer who works for the Remut Family.”
“…Pardon?”
I realized my mistake the moment the words left my lips.
Does that house even retain a personal designer? Would a man like him bother with one? No, he would spend that money on Aria’s treatment instead.
‘But it’s impossible for a Duke’s house to operate without one entirely.’
I rolled my eyes and quickly corrected myself.
“Cancel that. Find out which designer the Duke of Remut uses and drag them here.”
“…Duchess-To-Be.”
“Right now.”
The knight tried to protest, but one look at my icy gaze sent him bowing his head in haste. I felt no pity for him. He was, after all, one of the men who had hoisted me up and dragged me away earlier.
No, wait—everyone except Zett had taken part in that, hadn’t they?
‘So, the only competent one among my escort knights is that man…’
Perhaps it was the knight’s frantic, pale-faced urgency that did the trick. It didn’t take long for a designer, looking just as ashen as his escort, to be shoved into my drawing room. I checked the clock, genuinely intrigued.
‘I thought it would take longer than half a day…’
My fiancé had, for some reason, thankfully agreed to attend the banquet with me, but there was a hitch. It was obvious that the man wouldn’t pay any mind to his attire. That didn’t mean he dressed shabbily; he was always clean and tidy, dressing with a neatness that suited him well.
But I knew the standards set by my tyrant brother. He wouldn’t just be looking for “standard”—he would have set his criteria specifically to exploit my fiancé’s circumstances.
If my fiancé wore his usual attire and was kicked out by the tyrant’s petty tricks?
The plan that seemed to be going well would fall to pieces.
Falling to pieces? No, that would be his death sentence.
‘That simply won’t do.’
Besides, if he were cast out, would that man stay quiet? He would see it as a golden opportunity to shout for the engagement to be broken even more loudly.
Oh, the misery of my life!
I lifted my head sharply.
“You. You must have all your clients’ measurements memorized, right?”
The designer for the Duke of Remut, who had been on the verge of offering a formal greeting, flinched. He nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, yes!” he stammered, his voice trembling.
“Good. Provide the measurements for the Duke of Remut.”
“…Yes. Pardon?!”
The designer was a man with a timid disposition. He shook, looking completely at a loss. However, when I stared at him fixedly, he eventually squeezed his eyes shut and approached the other designers to spill all the measurements.
“So, you are all the ‘great’ designers acknowledged by my grandfather, right?”
“……”
I smiled prettily.
“Then creating one suit of menswear shouldn’t be a challenge at all.”
“D-Duchess-To-Be…!”
“You’ve all heard the sizes.”
I flicked my fingers.
“Make it.”
The designers turned ghastly pale.
They were trapped in a dilemma: they dared not refuse my order, yet they couldn’t bring themselves to leave this spot either.
I gestured to Susan, who stood faithfully at my side.
“Bring ‘that’ here.”
“Yes, Duchess-To-Be!”
While waiting for the knight to fetch my fiancé’s designer, I had already provided Susan and the maids with clear instructions.
Soon, the door creaked open. Anna and Beth entered, followed by attendants carefully carrying a wrapped bundle.
As soon as they finished arranging it, I spoke again.
“This is the dress I will wear to the Goddess’s Blessing Commemorative Banquet. Create menswear that will serve as a set with this.”
Even to me—armed with the memories and knowledge of Charlize—the dress was undeniably exquisite, a masterpiece of craftsmanship.
Naturally, the effect on the eyes of the experts was profound.
I could feel the designers scanning the garment with frantic intensity, their gazes a mix of professional shock and sharp, bitter jealousy.
‘Charlize leads the trends.’
Like it or not, notoriety is its own form of fame. Noble ladies of my age might sneer and curse my name in private, yet they still hungered for what I wore.
The reason Grandfather had summoned an army of shop owners and designers to haul in armfuls of clothing was clear. Furthermore, I could see exactly how to leverage them.
“If it’s Grandfather, he will continue to order exclusively from the shops I choose. From now on, indefinitely.”
“…M-making the menswear and receiving your favor… does that mean you will patronize only that shop from here on?”
Someone finally gathered the courage to ask.
I offered a smile instead of an answer, but to them, it was as good as a vow.
“Well, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to settle on one place for a while, would it?”
At my words, it was as if stars ignited in the designers’ eyes.
*Hup.* How startling.
I turned my gaze away with feigned indifference from those who were holding their breath or wringing their hands like dogs waiting for a bone.
“Are there any precautions I should observe when commissioning clothes for my fiancé?”
“Pardon? Yes? Ah… regarding that.”
“Tell them.”
My fiancé’s designer nodded awkwardly.
The moment permission was granted, the pack of designers swarmed him. He looked at me like prey being dragged into a den of starving monsters.
*I’m sorry. But they won’t hurt you…*
*Good luck.*
Soon after, I slid a heavy pouch of gold coins to my fiancé’s designer—half as payment for being dragged here, and half as hush money. His expression transformed instantly.
*Please, just put us to work!*
I then notified the designers—who were busy trying to strip the man of every shred of information—of the schedule.
“What? B-Duchess-To-Be, but that schedule is…”
“Hmm?”
They all seemed to think it was stifling, but when I crossed my arms and stared, no one dared to step forward.
It appeared that while they deemed it tight, it wasn’t an impossible deadline.
In truth, I didn’t want to assign such a punishing schedule either.
This was entirely due to that tyrant brother of mine and his absurd, petty spite.
I ordered them to leave, having no desire to face any more people. Since that was exactly what the designers wanted, they packed their bags and scrambled out as if they had been waiting for the signal.
In the sudden vacuum left behind by the crowd.
Surrounded by a mountain of luxurious goods, I didn’t spare a glance at any of them, choosing instead to stare quietly at the table.
Finally, I picked up the letter resting there. I fiddled with the correspondence.
I couldn’t believe it, even while looking at it with my own eyes.
To think that man would contact me first to propose we attend together.
‘Is he finally showing an opening?’
Joy and a profound sense of accomplishment welled up within me.
It felt as if the lovely coin I had failed to use even once, losing it to death, was dancing right before my eyes.
I felt as if the countless flashy, luxurious items filling this room might eventually manifest in the world I had returned from as well.
Yes, finally, the winds were turning in my favor.
‘I just have to block that tyrant brother’s spite and Grandfather’s insanity…’
As I enjoyed reading the letter, I suddenly lifted my head.
The items filling the room remained exactly where they had been. Each one was of a quality that would have been defined as “luxury” in my previous life.
Yet, why did they feel so different? It was a strange sensation—to be surrounded by an abundance of fine goods, only to find that instead of pleasure, I felt a total lack of interest.
‘……Is it because none of Charlize’s things truly feel like my own?’
* * *
The next day.
Unlike the previous two days when I had slept in, today I rose early.
“Duchess-To-Be?”
“I’m going to wear this.”
The maids didn’t just find my early start strange; they hurried to the dress shop as if it were only natural, nodding busily at the outfit I indicated.
Seeing all three of them nod in unison, they looked for all the world like baby birds. I had to suppress a laugh.
“I have somewhere to go, but you don’t necessarily have to follow.”
“Ah! Then…… you mean we may accompany you?”
That was not what I had said.
Is it the memories?
Before I knew it, Charlize’s manner of speaking had begun to cling to me like my own.
I frowned slightly, then replied, “Do as you please.”
With that, I slipped into my clothes and climbed into the carriage.