ICLWKIWML 65

Chapter 64

The long-awaited launch was just around the corner, and tensions were running high.

At a time like this, even the smallest rumor couldn’t be overlooked.

“What kind of rumor?”

“Well…”

“It’s fine, just say it.”

After glancing around cautiously, Ribonne finally spoke.

“Mr. Taylor once held the position of Claud at Karotia’s atelier, but he was dismissed.”

“And?”

“The reason he was dismissed back then was supposedly… a curse.”

“A curse?”

Ribonne hesitated again before explaining the details of the rumor.

“They say that while he was working at Karotia, he designed clothes that cursed certain nobles he disliked…”

“…?”

“And those nobles died. He was forced out to take responsibility for it.”

Though Ribonne trailed off at the end, it wasn’t hard to piece the situation together.

Since Karotia’s atelier was directly under the Imperial Household, most of its work was for the royal family.
However, there were rare exceptions—nobles who had rendered great service to the Empire would, by imperial decree, receive garments made by Karotia as gifts of honor.

In other words, the rumor was claiming that Mr. Taylor had imbued those ceremonial garments with curses.

“Nonsense.”

The moment Ribonne finished speaking, Clurnet and the other staff bristled as though it were an insult against them personally.

In fact, after recent events, their trust in Mr. Taylor had only grown stronger. They couldn’t contain their outrage.

“How could anyone spread such ridiculous lies…”

“It’s obvious. This came from Aria’s atelier.”

“They couldn’t win by skill, so now they stoop to this…”

There were only 15 days left until the launch.

For an atelier, both its brand and its image were critical. For an incident from over a decade ago to suddenly resurface at this exact time—such a coincidence was impossible without someone’s hand behind it.

‘Clothes that carry curses…’

Whether true or not wasn’t the issue. Even if proven false, by the time that happened, Frill Blue Rose would already have suffered irreversible damage.

It was the sort of rumor that could sink an atelier entirely.

And the impact was already visible.

Since the end of last season, customers had gradually declined, but recently the drop was far more noticeable.

True, business always slowed a little before a new season, but this decrease was far greater than expected.

The staff never showed their anxiety outwardly, but as the launch drew nearer, their unease grew.

Still, in front of Mr. Taylor, they hid it completely.

He was someone who, aside from his design work, paid little attention to society or gossip—especially during busy times like this.

It was a relief, in a way. He seemed completely unaware.

By the afternoon, Clurnet and Ribonne came to me, agitated.

“It has to be Aria behind this.”

“Exactly. They just tried to secretly recruit Mr. Taylor and failed—so now this petty trick?”

“How low can they go!”

Even Clurnet, usually the most level-headed, was seething with anger.

It was natural. If things collapsed now, all our years of effort would go up in smoke.

Silence fell as we searched for countermeasures.

Clurnet finally broke it with a cautious suggestion.

“Should we at least postpone the remaining production?”

Given how things were trending, it wasn’t unreasonable to worry.

But my conclusion was the same as before.

“Produce everything as planned.”

The two looked startled, but they didn’t argue and quietly withdrew.

They trusted me now. We’d been through something similar before.

The reason was simple. Even if we delayed production, losses wouldn’t lessen much. But if the matter was resolved, a shortage of goods would be far worse.

The key was clearing up the rumor.

And since it directly referenced Mr. Taylor’s past, it wasn’t hard to guess where it came from.

‘Aria, of course.’

It didn’t take long for suspicion to become certainty.

One of our loyal customers, Lady Beydin—one of the few who hadn’t demanded a refund—told us the truth herself. She said she felt guilty for doubting us during the earlier Kaelyn incident and wanted to make it up to us.

“Recently, Aria held a private social party. Only a handful of the biggest figures in society were invited.”

We hadn’t known about it.

“And at that party, she let slip that rumor about Mr. Taylor.”

We had expected Aria to try something, but this soon—barely after the Kaelyn affair had ended? And to target Mr. Taylor of all people…

This was too important to waste time.

As the saying goes, the more urgent the matter, the calmer one must be.

So I began to sort things out.

‘The reason Mr. Taylor was dismissed from Karotia as Claud.’

‘The nobles who supposedly died back then.’

‘Their actual causes of death.’

…

‘Which families were they from?’

At the end of his tenure in 1045 of the Imperial Calendar, a major war broke out.

After endless skirmishes with neighboring kingdoms, some allied states requested the Empire’s aid.

The Battle of Teiros dragged on, but with the Empire’s support, it ended in victory.

Still, the Empire paid a heavy price in blood.

Those who distinguished themselves were recorded as “meritorious families” and received imperial rewards.

One such reward was clothing from Karotia—garments otherwise reserved solely for royalty. It was meant to immortalize their honor.

There had been quite a number of such families, but any noble would know this much. Imperial history lessons were filled with them.

However, which of those nobles died afterward wasn’t recorded. Individual deaths might be major events within a family, but they rarely entered the Empire’s official annals.

And the idea that they died from a “cursed garment” was absurd.

For one, nobles treated such gifts with extreme reverence. Like collectors with prized merchandise, they often stored them away untouched. The garments might never have even been worn.

Secondly, that year many people died from another cause entirely.

The Empire was ravaged by Herotid, a terrible plague. Countless citizens perished, and nobles were no exception.

It was during that turmoil that Mr. Taylor was accused and expelled.

The grieving families wouldn’t have had the energy to defend his name, and he wasn’t the type to press his case aggressively to them either.

So the matter had been buried—just like that.

At least, that was my guess.

But it was only conjecture, not proof. Hardly enough to refute accusations.

After thinking it through, I narrowed it down to two possibilities:

1. The bereaved families were colluding with Aria, lured by money.

2. They didn’t even know such a rumor had surfaced.

If it was the second, the matter would be simple. But if it was the first, time might not be on our side.

Either way, we couldn’t sit idle.

The first step was to identify the families.

That meant we needed Karotia’s official records—documents that would also state the reason for Mr. Taylor’s dismissal.

But Karotia’s archives were notoriously difficult to access, and most likely fell under the Crown Prince’s authority.

‘How am I supposed to get them?’

No matter how I thought about it, I had no good idea.

‘Should I just ask Mr. Taylor directly?’

After long deliberation, I decided against it.

‘Then maybe pull some strings through Father…?’

But Father held no post related to Karotia. He might inquire indirectly, but it would take time, and worse, it might raise suspicions.

Above all, I didn’t want to drag him into anything involving the Crown Prince.

Then someone’s face crossed my mind.

‘If it’s him… maybe.’

Without hesitation, I picked up my pen and sent a familiar through the address he had once given me.

“I would like to meet you as soon as possible.”

The familiar reached a glass tower rising in the center of the Imperial Palace.

The Glasshard Palace.

Inside, as always, was Yurihad.

At the sound of tapping on the window, he rose and approached.

He opened the envelope, unsealed and unmarked, and read the message with a detached air.

Lately, he’d been inundated with tiresome correspondence from the border. He crumpled the letter irritably in his hand.

But then—

“…!”

After seeing the contents, he carefully smoothed the envelope back out.

‘No warning, just straight to the point…’

‘And she’s saying the season’s already finished?’

Like some ancient black dragon basking in its own grandeur, he covered part of his face with one hand and stood before the mirror.

The same handsome visage stared back at him.

‘She couldn’t possibly be rushing just to see this face, could she?’

In truth, Frill Blue Rose’s schedule had wrapped up far earlier than he had expected.

There were still state affairs left undone, but they had long fled his mind.

Normally, such negligence was unthinkable for him.

Yet, uncharacteristically, Yurihad brushed it all aside and hastily changed his attire.

Admiring his reflection once more, he murmured under his breath as he strode out.

“How could anyone forget this beauty?”

The more urgent the matter, the faster time seemed to slip away.

Launch D–7

Dressed immaculately, Edwin appeared at Frill Blue Rose.

It had been only hours since I sent the letter.

I realized my mistake when I saw the smile tugging at his lips. My wording must have given him the wrong idea.

“I didn’t think your schedule would finish so quickly.”

“…”

“You really didn’t need to push yourself like that.”

“…”

“Then… does this mean I’m allowed to be excited now?”