Chapter 29

I rented a covered carriage for the outing with Dahlia.

As a resident of one of the Academy’s five top-class official residences, I had the privilege of summoning one of the Academy’s carriages whenever I wanted.

Since outside vehicles weren’t allowed on campus, it was a convenient perk.

Especially when I had a lot to carry.

And today, there would be a lot to carry.

I was planning to buy Dahlia something to make up for five years of unpaid wages.

Inside the carriage, which could seat six grown men, Dahlia sat huddled in a corner like someone squeezing into a seat they didn’t deserve.

She looked even smaller than she already was.

She acted like it was an honor just to share the same space with me.

Knowing how shy she was, I figured telling her to relax would only make her more uncomfortable, so I stayed quiet.

Then I happened to notice her clothes.

“Dahlia.”

“Yes?”

“How long have you had that dress?”

The navy-blue dress she wore for the outing, with its wide collar, was clean and well-maintained, but the fabric had faded enough that anyone could tell how old it was.

“It’s the same age as the day I first met you, Master. You bought it for me in the first city we visited together.”

So about five years, then.

“That’s really old.”

Seriously. This bastard Winter Winslet made her work sixteen hours a day, seven days a week, and didn’t even buy her a single new dress?

In the world of Candela of Judgment, it was a blessing there were no child welfare laws or labor regulations. Truly.

“I-I’m sorry. I took good care of it, but it ended up like this… If I stay by your side dressed like this, people will probably stare, won’t they? Maybe… maybe I really should go back…”

Dahlia fidgeted with the hem of her dress, clearly anxious.

Instead of answering, I opened the sliding hatch toward the driver’s seat and gave the coachman our destination.

“Let’s head to the dressmaker’s street in the city first.”

Dahlia’s face turned pale when she heard that.

But if this much was enough to shock her, she was in for a rough ride.

This was just the beginning.

If watching a fire or a fight are the most entertaining things in the world, then a close second would be spending someone else’s money.

And Winter Winslet was very rich.

***

People were the same everywhere, but the working conditions in the tailoring industry were especially grueling.

Working overnight to meet a customer’s demands was just part of the daily routine.

Whether sick, injured, or simply enduring long hours in a hot, dry, dusty workshop…tailoring was a profession that constantly tested one’s patience.

A famous designer might be respected as an artist even among nobles, but those were the rare exceptions. Perhaps one or two in an entire generation.

The remaining hundreds or thousands of tailors continued their endless sewing, still dreaming of rising from nothing.

Even the top dressmaking shops were no exception.

Take, for example, the atelier of René Michele, the most famous designer in the royal capital of Lambart.

On the second floor of that very atelier, a team of tailors was busy sewing, cutting, and tearing out loose threads today as well.

And sometimes, instead of yanking at loose threads, someone would end up pulling at their own hair.

“Argh! She lines up all these impossible orders and then goes off to play, seriously? Has she already forgotten what it was like to be a nobody? Just because she made it big? Ugh, I hope she trips and falls down the stairs.”

“You shouldn’t talk about the teacher like that, Rachel. Still, thanks to Lady Michele bringing in work, we’re able to make a living, aren’t we?”

“What, you think I couldn’t get a job anywhere else? Honestly, someone with my skills would be snatched up in a second.”

“But the pay’s best here, isn’t it?”

“Well… that’s true!”

Satisfied for now, Rachel went back to sewing.

Of course, it didn’t take long before she threw her head up again and started grumbling.

“But what’s the point of making all this money if I don’t even have time to spend it?”

“How long have you been working here again?”

“Two years.”

“You’ve held out a while. Most people can’t even last six months before they quit from exhaustion.”

“Well, I’m not exactly ordinary, am I?”

“If it’s really too much, take a proper break. I’ll talk to the teacher for you.”

“No, if I’m gone, it’ll just make more work for everyone else. Besides, I’ve got hospital bills to pay.”

“Speaking of which, how’s your mother doing these days?”

“She’s much better. Now that it’s spring, she’s even going for walks. Started tending to a few plants too.”

“That’s wonderful. It’s all thanks to your hard work, isn’t it?”

“Hehe…”

Rachel hummed a little tune as her hands moved faster.

With a few final stitches, she finished one of the outfits in the final stage of completion, then stretched with a loud sigh.

“Ugh! Still, it’d be nice if making these clothes actually felt rewarding. I’m so sick of staring at the wall all day while sewing. I don’t even know who ends up wearing what I make. Maybe I should tag along for a delivery next time…”

Ding-ding.

The doorbell rang downstairs.

Rachel froze in place with her arms still raised in mid-stretch.

“Ugh, is someone coming to pick up an order today?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Whew, right? For a second I thought we’d missed a deadline or something. Maybe it’s just a fabric delivery?”

“Probably not. If it were fabric, we’ve already got so much piled up in here that there’s barely room to stand. What more could we possibly need to order?”

“Then a customer? That’s strange.”

Michele’s atelier didn’t accept guests without reservations.

And the only people who could make a reservation were a handful of high-ranking nobles with personal connections to René Michele.

Anyone else knocking on the atelier’s door was either a fabric delivery person, a servant coming to pick up an outfit, or a clueless outsider with no idea how things worked around here.

Ding-ding.

The bell rang again, and Rachel pouted.

“Ugh, do they even know where they are? We’re already swamped with work.”

“Just ignore it. They’ll give up after a few tries.”

“No, I’ll go check. Someone needs to teach them a lesson. Who has time to go around bothering poor, overworked tailors?”

“Or maybe you just want an excuse to slack off?”

“Well… there’s that too!”

Rachel jumped to her feet and stomped down the stairs in a huff.

And moments later—

Crash! Bang!

She came racing back up, out of breath and wide-eyed.

Rachel stammered,

“Uh, uh, uh, wh-what do we do?”

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s an emergency! A real emergency!”

“An emergency? Don’t tell me there’s a problem with one of the outfits?”

“No—it’s him! He’s here!”

“Who’s here?”

“You know… that… ugh, what’s the word?!”

Flustered beyond words, Rachel waved her hands around in every direction, grasping for something to say—

And finally blurted it out:

“That handsome guy!”

***

Michele’s atelier catered to the wealthy.

Though it operated strictly by reservation and today wasn’t even a business day, there was no door in this city that wouldn’t open before the arrival of Winter Winslet.

Since none of the staff were in to receive customers, a tailor working upstairs stepped in to guide the guest instead.

She wouldn’t be getting any commission for boosting sales, and yet the tailor was incredibly enthusiastic.

“Oh my, it looks perfect on you. Like a little fairy! Since you’ve already tried that on, how about this midi dress as well? The color suits you so well. It’s a shirt style, so it’s easy to wear and take off. And this pattern is very popular these days!”

“Ah, no, that’s really okay…”

“No, it’s not okay. Fashion has a freshness window, you know? If you miss your chance to wear something like this, it’s like losing half your life. Half a year from now, no one will even glance at it; it’ll be out of style.”

“But I’ve already bought two summer outfits and two for winter…”

As Dahlia said this, she turned to me as if asking for help, but unfortunately, I wasn’t on her side right now.

“Bring it out anyway.”

Michele’s atelier was a luxury shop that didn’t deal in ready-made clothes.

The pieces the tailor began stacking one by one were not for sale or were still unreleased prototypes.

Items without price tags.

That was why Dahlia’s face was gradually turning pale.

“E-Excuse me, Master. These clothes… something’s not right.”

“Do you not like the designs?”

“No, it’s not that…”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Th-They don’t have price tags.”

“They never do.”

“Hic.”

Dahlia began to hiccup.

She was now on the verge of tears.

“I don’t need anything this expensive…”

“Consider it an early birthday gift.”

“But my birthday already passed…”

“When was it?”

“February.”

“Dahlia.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t talk back.”

“……”

One must learn to accept kindness, too.

A little while later, Dahlia came out of the fitting room, now dressed in the outfit the tailor had picked out for her.

I gave a nod.

“Looks clean.”

The way she moved stiffly and carefully, as though she were a wooden mannequin worried about damaging the clothes, was amusing. But the tailor had excellent taste.

Clothes do make the person.

At first, Dahlia had been hesitant, but she soon found herself staring into the mirror and eventually gave a faint smile.

See? I knew she’d like it.

That makes one goal achieved for today.

***

The idea that expensive food is good for you… might just be a bias, but at least in Judgment Candela, it held true.

Dishes made with the finest ingredients and highest-grade culinary skills provided temporary stat boosts.

Which is why I’d already decided where we’d be having dinner tonight.

A restaurant specializing in mushroom and fish dishes, known for powerful buffs to health and stamina.

Back when I was a player of Judgment Candela, it was the kind of place I’d never even dreamed of visiting, since I was always focused on optimal routes and max efficiency.

But now that I was Winter Winslet, there were definite perks.

Money really does make everything better.

However, to skip to the result, dinner ended up being a simple meal instead.

Because just as we arrived at the grand entrance of the fancy restaurant, Dahlia who was wearing a rare look of determination said this:

“If we eat here, we’re definitely going to get sick.”

And so, we found ourselves at a quiet little café on the outskirts of town.

Sitting at a terrace seat, I chewed on a sandwich whose filling left much to be desired.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t bad. Not because of the food, but thanks to the city view and the pleasant weather.

Dahlia, on the other hand, picked at her pancakes. She was barely eating and her eyes were fixed on her plate.

I watched her and asked,

“You don’t seem to have much of an appetite.”

“Huh? Oh, no. I’m just a little tired. I’m not used to being around so many people…”

Come to think of it, Dahlia usually spent most of her day indoors.

At her age, you’d expect her to be bursting to run around outside, just to shake off the confinement.

“Do you feel uncomfortable being outside?”

“It’s just… when I walk down the street, I feel like people are staring at me. Probably because I look a little different.”

Dahlia’s skin was a shade of honey brown—

It was rare sight in Laurencia.

That was because she came from a far southern country.

Winter Winslet had taken her in during a journey across the continent from south to north.

I gently corrected her misunderstanding.

“This country’s full of immigrants and outsiders these days. Not many people would judge you just for looking different. If they’re staring, there’s probably another reason.”

“Another reason…?”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

Dahlia’s looks were anything but ordinary.

Now she was dressed in an outfit bought from a high-end shop, she stood out even more than before.

Apparently, the tailor’s talk about her looking like a fairy wasn’t just flattery.

Of course, Dahlia herself didn’t seem to realize it.

“If it’s because of how I look… isn’t that the same thing in the end?”

“A servant’s conduct reflects the dignity of their master. Think about how people will see you if you act small and timid.”

“Oh…if that’s what you mean, I’ll try my best.”

Dahlia, who had shrunk into herself, straightened her back.

Dahlia trusted me completely.

That’s why she accepted what I said without question.

But changing someone isn’t just difficult. It’s also presumptuous.

Even if you dress it up as concern for the other person, more often than not, it ends up being about self-satisfaction.

I was no different.

Dragging Dahlia around all day, making her spend her time in a way completely unlike her usual routine….it was because I wanted something from her.

It had to do with her death flag.

Seeing Shannon’s death flag disappear had taught me something:

The creation and removal of death flags ultimately depended on changes in relationships.

In the original story, Dahlia and Winter Winslet were “a disposable servant and her master”.

So, if that dynamic could be replaced with something else, maybe Dahlia’s death flag could be erased too.

That was what I hoped.

Because if things continued according to the game’s original timeline, Dahlia would betray me two years from now.

And after betraying her master, Dahlia would take her own life beside Winter Winslet’s corpse.