“He was saying something like ‘fall for me,’ but if he’s an ally, that’s fine, but if he’s an enemy, that would be troublesome.”
If it was something someone was tracking, she had no intention of getting involved unnecessarily. Catching a spy had to be as secretive as the spy themselves, and if various people stepped in, it would only cause unnecessary trouble.
But she couldn’t tell right away whether it was something she could let go of or not. She also couldn’t confirm if it was a matter serious enough to report to His Majesty or Cheshire.
“For now, check if there’s any knight with outstanding martial prowess who injured his shoulder today. No, a man with black hair, handsome, with thick eyebrows, height about this much.”
Since they had encountered each other during secretive actions, there was a high possibility he was hiding the injury, but with that level of skill and being handsome enough to stand out, it shouldn’t be hard to identify him. From the way he openly showed his face, it didn’t seem like he intended to pretend not to know.
“I’ll find him quickly.”
As she described his appearance in more detail, Buzz nodded.
“There is. I’ll check the invitations that came to the Captain. There was a tea party invitation from Lady Holt, I think.”
On the way back to the lodging, he came up with a good idea. Certainly, if it’s a tea party, it might be possible to enter that mansion.
After taking Buzz, who was yawning exaggeratedly saying he was dying of sleepiness from waiting for the pigeon since dawn, to morning training, there was someone waiting for her in front of the west building.
“Wait a moment, Countess!”
It was a young man with neatly combed-back hair. He was dressed more formally than necessary, and with round gold-rimmed glasses, he looked cute like a boy wearing his father’s suit. The short young man flushed as soon as he saw Sahara and came running in one step.
“Countess Illoud, I’m Kiek, or Kiekie. Please hear me out! I beg you!”
At his urgent plea, Sahara blinked.
“Go ahead, speak.”
There was no urgent matter, so she wondered what it was. The young man seemed like he would faint if she didn’t listen to him right away.
“Did you see the letter I sent? What about the dress I sent?”
Sahara looked back at Buzz. It seemed like one of the many gifts that Buzz was stuffing into the room.
Buzz, swallowing a yawn, stepped forward instead of Sahara.
“I’m sorry. Gifts from strangers are under verification, so we haven’t delivered it yet.”
“You didn’t throw it away! Ah, that’s a relief. —Then, will you try it on now?”
“…The dress?”
Now? Why wear a dress now? As Sahara asked uncomfortably, the young man, Kiek, approached with sparkling eyes and suddenly grabbed Sahara’s hand. She tried to avoid it, but unlike his bright eyes, his trembling hands and staggering legs made him seem like he would collapse any moment, so she let him hold on. Unlike his sparkling pupils, there were dark circles under his eyes.
“Countess Illoud.”
Holding Sahara’s hand tightly with both hands, he spoke in a desperate tone as if grasping a lifeline.
“Please don’t wear another woman’s dress.”
§ § § § §
Kiek Faxidi was twenty years old, in the flower of youth, and had come to the capital with the grand ambition of establishing the finest dress shop in the city within three years.
As the youngest son of a wealthy Baron’s family from the countryside, he had been obsessed with doll play since childhood. He even got scolded and hit by his mother for ‘what kind of doll play for a boy,’ but he never let go of his dolls. Fortunately, because his father doted on him as the youngest son like a precious jewel, he grew up doing whatever he wanted.
Feeling a lack while dressing up his dolls beautifully, he reached out to people. Having perfectly adorned his seven sisters and married them all into good families, he suddenly realized his tremendous talent and, raiding his mother’s jewelry, came to the capital.
And already two years had passed.
In that time, far from establishing the finest dress shop in the capital, he couldn’t even reach the level of a moderately successful one. Settling in the capital wasn’t as easy as he thought. He had imagined that upon arriving, he would immediately captivate the noble ladies’ dresses, but for the first few months, not a single customer came.
He didn’t think he was bad at making clothes. When it came to dresses, he produced them in a dazzlingly beautiful way. There might be differences in taste, but the evaluations were always good. The clothes displayed in front of his shop sold reasonably well, and though few, he had some regular customers. The problem was that word-of-mouth didn’t spread.
It wasn’t taboo for a man to make women’s clothes, but it wasn’t readily accepted either. The atmosphere around a male designer was mostly ‘what does a man know about women’s dresses.’
In the capital’s social circles, where ‘wearing the latest dress from the busiest and most famous designer these days’ was more important than whether the clothes were pretty or suited well, the few noble ladies who came to him in a pinch praised Kiek’s dresses as beautiful, beautiful, but then returned to their famous designers. Even his few regulars couldn’t take their eyes off the dresses, but they didn’t seem proud to receive them from Kiek.
There were various complex reasons, but in Kiek’s view, his lack of success was due to the image of being an ‘unknown male designer’ and issues with promotion.
Just as he was despairing, thinking it impossible to conquer the social world next year due to problems beyond his control.
Seeing Countess Sahara Illoud marching to the castle in the square, Kiek felt as if struck by lightning.
Her abundant hair, tied in one, swayed at her waist. A female knight in uniform, entering through the castle gates with her back straight. Even in her plain attire, she was frighteningly beautiful. Even without knowing then that she was the tremendous knight who had ended the war, his creative desire boiled over.
The contrast of black hair and white skin, neat yet ornate facial features, a body line that looked healthy yet didn’t lose femininity. —Composed of contrasting elements, she was perfect from head to toe.
A ‘woman’ knight strong enough to end a war.
It was natural that Kiek, a ‘male’ designer in the female-dominated fashion world, fell in love.
As soon as he returned home, he wrote a long letter and altered the dress among those he had that seemed most suited to her. He stayed up for two full nights to complete the dress and sent it with the letter.
The Countess Illoud at the victory party was beautiful enough to shock Kiek once more, but there was something regrettable.
The dress didn’t fit the Countess perfectly. Leaving aside the unnecessarily puffed design, the waistline and bust line were subtly off. The accessories that looked insufficient and empty compared to the ornate hair ornaments, the shoes that failed to serve as a focal point. The minimal, unadventurous makeup.
Kiek was convinced. If she went through his hands, Countess Illoud would become the legend of the social world that all women envied.
She hadn’t appeared in any social events since her debut day. Naturally, countless designers must be trembling with excitement to dress her. She could surely commission those who charged gold equal to the weight of the fabric. Rumors were already rife that several major dress shops were preparing dresses for her.
Kiek, who hadn’t slept for four days waiting for her reply, could no longer endure and set out to find Countess Illoud as soon as morning came.
“Please don’t wear another woman’s dress.”
Kiek said with all his heart. She was the muse he met for the first time in his life. He couldn’t let go of Countess Illoud. No, even if he had to let go inevitably, he wanted to dress her at least once.
If she just tried it on once, he was sure she would realize how wonderful a dress he could make.
“…What on earth are you saying.”
Sahara gently pried away Kiek’s fingers, which were drawing too close. He wouldn’t suddenly collapse, would he? No matter how she looked, his face showed lack of sleep, yet his eyes were bright.
“Please entrust it to me just once. Of course, a designer like me might be beneath your notice, but before wearing another designer’s clothes, please try it on once. No, at least look at the dress I sent!”
At Kiek’s increasingly desperate plea, Sahara furrowed her brow.
“Looks like a peddler.”
Buzz whispered slightly in Sahara’s ear. Sahara nodded slightly in agreement. Anyone could see he was a con artist, a pushy merchant. He clearly came to scam naive country folk.
Buzz cleared his throat and said,
“This person doesn’t have much money. He’s practically a beggar. He hasn’t even received his prize money yet, and even if he does, he has so many debts to pay that he’ll have to tighten his belt for a while.”
“Money? I won’t even take material costs! Just wear it!”
Kiek jumped up and said. Making a dress without even charging for materials? It was even more suspicious, but as Sahara looked at him without answering, he took off his glasses and rubbed his red eyes.
“No, not a peddler or con artist.”
As expected, the area under his eyes hidden by glasses was hollow. He looked like a sleepless rabbit.
“I’m a designer at Kiekie’s Dress Shop, and I couldn’t sleep… Seeing you, Countess, inspiration flooded me, and I poured out designs. —Really, just once, once is enough. You’ll surely like it.”
Sahara stared at him intently and then said.
“You said you sent a letter and a dress.”
“Yes. The dress I sent is fine, but if you give me time, I’ll make one reflecting your taste, Countess. Give me a week, and I can make a party dress. In three or four days, a garden party or tea party dress.”
“A party dress in a week? My mother said it takes a month for one dress.”
Buzz whispered to Sahara that he seemed like a con artist after all. Perhaps the whisper was loud, as Kiek shook his head.
“I can make it without sleeping or eating!”
“? It’s not a war, do you need to make a dress without sleeping or eating…”
Not armor or anything, why go that far? At Sahara’s puzzled words, Kiek widened his eyes.
“The social world is naturally a battlefield, Countess.”
What kind of innocent talk is that? Kiek, retorting, looked even more surprised.
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