18.
“Then, shall I make a request right away?”
Freya looked at Lorenzo with a gentle smile that seemed entirely devoid of malice.
“Please bring me the guest list for Madam Russell’s salon.”
Although she spoke as if it were a simple errand, the gravity of the request was clear: depending on how that list was used, it could easily be traced back to the butler who delivered it.
Yet, he could not refuse. If he were to be dismissed without accomplishing anything, he would rather secure a pocket full of coin and a letter of recommendation from the Blanc family.
It was a checkmate of his own making, but strangely, he didn’t feel resentment.
‘How on earth could someone so cunning have been… until now…’
It was a sentiment unbefitting a servant, but driven by the guilt stirring in his heart, Lorenzo spoke.
“If you had shown this side of yourself when you first arrived at the mansion… no, if you had only stepped up a little earlier, I would have followed you without question, Madam.”
Though, it was a heartfelt confession that held little meaning now that it was being said. Lorenzo bowed his stiff back and left the room.
Only after the butler had retreated did Freya turn toward the door where he had vanished. This was the first time something like this had occurred.
‘Naturally. I had never confronted Mathilde this way before.’
If not for the necessity of remaining in this mansion for two years, she would have had no reason to engage in such a draining power struggle with Mathilde.
For now, regardless of her true feelings, she had to maintain the appearance of a married life. It was a choice born of necessity, but…
Even if it was only temporary, having an unexpected ally left her feeling bewildered.
‘If only I had been a little more clever in the past, even back then when everywhere I looked seemed to be an enemy…’
At the thought, Freya chuckled and shook her head.
She must have found some breathing room. To think like this—forgetting how much time she had spent and how many times she had repeated the events leading up to this point—was a strange luxury.
Reflecting on how things might have been in the past was meaningless. The present, reached after surviving all those previous iterations, was her best possible outcome.
Shaking off the useless thoughts, Freya looked at the blank stationery on the table and began to categorize the tasks ahead.
‘The things I need to consider immediately are Father, Monsieur Delaporte, Mathilde’s salon, and…’
The Imperial Ball to be held in the last week of June.
It was a bit late for a debutante. Moreover, as she was already married, Freya intended to announce her official entrance into high society by attending the Imperial Ball that followed the debutante ceremony.
Since this would be her first public appearance since last year’s incident, she knew she couldn’t avoid being the subject of mockery, no matter how she acted.
‘I might as well become the most conspicuous Pierrette of them all.’
For that preparation, she had an important appointment scheduled in the afternoon. Freya began preparing to head out with a flutter of nervous anticipation.
✦ ✦ ✦
As usual, Freya slipped out of Max’s office as soon as two hours had passed and headed to Madam Pernel’s boutique.
“Madam Pernel, thank you for agreeing to such a last-minute appointment.”
“Actually, you’ll be happy to know we can meet quickly. Please, just call me Inès.”
“That’s good, Inès. Let’s address each other comfortably.”
“I won’t decline, Freya.”
As she entered the shop and discarded the formal honorifics, a man sitting on the guest sofa inside stood up and approached.
“Freya, let me introduce you. This is my business partner, Paul Charlo.”
“It is an honor to meet you, Madam Russell.”
The man, wearing a black vest and trousers that fit his lean frame perfectly, exuded a neurotic yet arrogant aura. Unlike his polite greeting, his gaze swept over Freya from head to toe with an almost insulting persistence.
“Paul…”
Inès moved to intervene, but Freya signaled that it was fine and extended her hand to him.
“Nice to meet you, Charlo.”
The man, not hiding his surprise, took her hand. He then asked nonchalantly, “They say you are the one who will buy me a ticket into the Imperial Palace, is that correct?”
“Paul… I’ve told you repeatedly. You shouldn’t speak like that in front of nobles.”
Inès let out a deep sigh and cast a look of apology toward Freya.
“Paul was an apprentice kept by the tailoring expert I used to trade with. His skills are exceptional, but he is like an infant when it comes to the etiquette of the nobility… Honestly, it’s hard to present him in public in his current state.”
“Indeed, it would be impossible in his current state.”
“Hah, just you wait. Soon enough, women will be lining up in front of the shop just to wear the clothes I make.”
The man, who looked to be in his mid-twenties, was brimming with confidence. And he had the skill to back it up.
In just a year, every woman from noble and bourgeois families alike would be clamoring for dresses made by this man or in his style.
However… Freya looked at him steadily before asking, “If I open the path to the Imperial Palace for you, what is your plan afterward?”
“Freya, I don’t know how much you know about the business we are preparing… but our ultimate goal isn’t actually just entering the Imperial Palace.”
After a moment of hesitation, Inès spoke with a serious expression.
“Our goal is to secure a supply contract with the Imperial Palace for the dresses Paul Charlo designs. Based on that, we want to create a concept completely different from anything seen before—a ‘couturier.’ Ultimately, we want people to come to buy clothes based solely on the name Paul Charlo.”
Even though she had heard this before, seeing the eyes filled with expectation and longing, Freya’s heart fluttered.
Until now, a tailor was a profession that made clothes solely according to the customer’s demands—from the fabric and color to the smallest ornament. It was expected that the wearer’s opinions would dictate the entire process, and the tailor’s skill was measured by how perfectly they could satisfy the client’s whims.
The ‘couturier’ Inès was proposing meant shifting the decision-making power to the tailor, having the customer choose from already completed designs.
It was a vision that would get one dismissed instantly without the raw talent to back it up, but Paul Charlo clearly possessed that genius.
Knowing that, Freya had to succeed in persuading them today.
“Inès, Charlo. Actually, I came here today to make two new proposals.”
“New proposals?” Inès tilted her head, though her curiosity was piqued.
“These are purely optional, and even if you refuse, our relationship will not change.”
With a cautious expression, Freya put forth her first proposal.
“The first is for you to craft Charlo’s very first dress for me. I intend to wear it to the Imperial Ball at Versailles.”
“Of course, that’s possible. Paul already has a few dress samples in progress; you can choose the one you like.”
“I don’t want to.”
At Paul’s sharp response, both women turned toward him. Paul frowned and continued, “If it’s going to be my first dress, I have to do it properly. I’m going to choose the fabric from scratch, entirely.”
“…That’s what he says.” Inès shook her head and asked, “The first proposal is settled, then. What is the second?”
Freya took a small, deep breath and answered.
“The second proposal is… I’d like you to consider a contract with me before your contract with the Imperial Palace.”
*Thud.* Paul stood up before she had even finished. He spat out at Inès, “Inès, is this some kind of noble joke? Or should I just spit and walk out right now?”
“Freya, you aren’t thinking of changing our agreement, are you?”
Inès’s face stiffened as if she felt betrayed. It was natural. After all, it was Freya who had dangled Versailles and the Imperial Palace as bait.
Even so, they needed to understand.
“Dressing the woman who sits at the highest position in the empire would surely be a great stroke of luck, bringing both wealth and honor. But just as a rose has thorns, there is always a trap hidden within things that look and sound pleasing.”
Paul Charlo.
He was the most talented tailor Freya knew, and at the same time, the most unfortunate.