Chapter 7
Not even a disciple but an assistant? Now that was just like her.
She really was an interesting person.
A little while later, I set up an appointment and, under my father’s guidance, visited the atelier where she worked.
Taylor, with her thick eyebrows and expressionless face, had the intimidating presence the rumors spoke of.
But I wasn’t the type to be cowed.
After all, I’d once been called a once-in-a-generation genius — and a “weirdo” — all over the world.
In some ways, she even reminded me of myself.
Not that I wanted to admit it.
She barely acknowledged my greeting before sitting down right in front of me.
In that moment, I was certain I’d made the right decision leaving my father outside.
If he saw this scene, he’d probably faint on the spot.
Taylor glanced at me, then, without warning, tossed a stack of patterns onto the table.
“From here to here. Trace the patterns exactly.”
For most people, this would take well over ten hours.
And among them was the notoriously difficult Wooling Pattern. Unless you’d trained extensively, you couldn’t hope to do it.
It was, in short, a blatant statement: I don’t take assistants.
I could imagine every other applicant giving up halfway through the test and storming out.
But exactly one hour later, I called her over — with perfectly traced patterns in hand.
Her expression, upon seeing them, curved into a faint, strange smile.
Weirdos recognize the faces of other weirdos better than anyone else…
And from where I stood, that look meant: This just got interesting.
“Do this one too.”
Her face all but shouted, There’s no way you can pull this off.
The task? Stitching a Riffen Pattern — a trend so new it had barely hit the market — onto a coarse fabric imported from overseas, something you couldn’t even find in the Empire.
It was basically the same as telling me to get lost.
Of course, I could do it perfectly.
I’d done this work thousands of times before.
Two hours later, she was staring back and forth between the pattern and me like she was seeing a ghost.
If anything, I might even be more skilled than she was.
And my working speed? Far faster.
Not that I’d said it out loud yet… but from my perspective, it was obvious.
She tried hard not to be overwhelmed by my smug grin, but in the end… she accepted me not as an assistant, but as a disciple.
From that day on, I visited the atelier three times a week without fail.
We worked together surprisingly well.
“What fabric do you think suits this design?”
“It has a light, flowing feel, so I think Sophrine Laid fabric would be good.”
“That works if you only look at the design. But how will you deal with its poor heat retention?”
“Since Sophrine fabric is weak in durability and warmth, for a colder season, it’d be best to use Linnae as the base and layer Sophrine over it.”
Her brow furrowed deeply.
So the look people get when they feel the thrill of their craft is the same for every eccentric.
It really was like looking in a mirror.
From the outside, someone might think we were fighting…
But honestly, we were the perfect pair.
There were very few people I could have such in-depth conversations about clothing with.
As our heated debate went on, it was already approaching six o’clock.
Normally, we didn’t set fixed working hours, but today I’d made sure to get her permission to leave early — I had an appointment with Jeff.
Taylor was usually someone who had zero interest in other people’s private lives.
But today, she didn’t let me go right away. Instead, she adjusted her glasses and deliberately stalled.
“Big day today?”
“…Pardon?”
“You seem to have put in a lot of effort.”
Sharp-eyed as ever.
Well, yes. I had put in a bit of effort.
After all, I was going to ask someone to be my muse — I couldn’t just show up looking plain.
I matched her teasing smile with a relaxed one of my own.
“It’s just nice weather.”
I smoothed things over with nonsense, and Taylor didn’t press further.
For her, that level of interest was probably the “maximum” she’d ever show another person.
Leaving her faintly unreadable expression behind, I stepped out of the atelier and hurried to my carriage.
The road to Bardgar was as bright and clear now as it had been back then.
After some time, the scenery gave way to a run-down street lined with small, low, shabby buildings.
Back then, I hadn’t noticed — too distracted at the time.
But now, dressed in a white dress with a feathered pouch at my side, I looked painfully out of place here.
When I stepped down from the carriage, the click of my small heels echoed off the ground.
As I approached the alley, my heart started to pound a little.
Would Jeff be here?
Remembering the way he’d watched me until the very last moment yesterday, I wondered if he’d thought I was crazy.
Maybe he wouldn’t come today.
That thought made me feel oddly sad.
Because then, the first friend I’d made in both my lives… would be gone.
Lost in such thoughts, I stepped into the alley — and saw Jeff.
Even from a distance, that small frame could only belong to him.
But… Jeff was lying on the ground.
I caught sight of several pairs of footsteps disappearing with a tap-tap sound.
Without thinking about whether my dress would tear, I ran.
It had to be that group from yesterday — Rocky’s gang.
Those cowardly bastards.
I shouldn’t have asked to meet here.
Of all the places we could have met… why did I choose here?
Standing over Jeff, my heart pounded in dread — his eyes were closed.
I lifted his tattered clothes to find bruises and bright red marks.
My hands trembled as I lifted his head onto my lap. There was a long scrape across his face, bleeding.
“Jeff? Jeff!”
Fear made me shake him gently at first, but the motion grew more desperate with each passing second.
He didn’t move.
My vision blurred, but I forced myself to think.
I had to carry him to the nearest clinic… but where was that again?
Through my tears, my thoughts tangled messily.
Then, a small hand grasped my arm.
I turned my head — Jeff’s face was tense, but awake.
He smiled like nothing had happened.
“When did you get here?”
That’s not what’s important right now.
“Are you okay?”
For a moment, he stared at me blankly, then lowered his gaze with a shadowed look.
Was his head injured? I was about to panic when he said—
“It’s nothing.”
Nothing? At a time like this?
That faded smile, as if this was no big deal, scraped against my heart.
Before I knew it, I was hugging him tightly.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have told you to come here…”
Jeff froze, unmoving, his posture awkward and straight.
It was only much later that I realized his whole body had gone stiff.
I let go and looked him over again.
“You’ve got so many injuries…”
With each wound I spotted, my anger toward those thugs burned hotter.
You know what they say — repay kindness twice over, and repay grudges tenfold.
That had always been my motto.
Blood welled up from one of the scratches on his arm and dripped down.
“You’re bleeding.”
First, I had to treat him.
Earlier, when I thought it was serious, I’d considered taking him to my estate… but seeing him now, it didn’t seem like he needed a healer.
Still, if I left it too long, the wounds could fester.
I knew where to go.
In fact, I’d already planned to take him there if we met today — my own secret hideout, Atelier No. 15 La Vie en Rose.
Without hesitation, I grabbed Jeff’s hand and started walking quickly.
He looked at our joined hands like they might explode.
Even all the way to La Vie en Rose.
The building was made of white bricks, as pure as my dress.
The open sea stretched out in front, waves dancing, and behind it lay a wide garden.
I always came here when I needed time alone.
I’d never brought anyone else before.
For a lonely me with no one to talk to, the sea beyond the glass windows had been my only friend.
Maybe that’s why my heart tickled strangely — it was the first time I’d brought someone here.
I only noticed Jeff’s gaze after we arrived.
“Ah… sorry.”
Only now did I realize our hands were still clasped. Startled, I pulled mine away.
The warmth of his palm lingered against my slightly damp skin.
When I looked up, Jeff’s face was red as well.
His hair, tousled by the wind, framed eyes as blue as if they’d been filled with shimmering waves.
I’d seen countless boys before, but never a face like his.
I’d never truly wanted something before… but now, for the first time, I did.
I never understood why young ladies would throw tantrums over a doll or cry over a tiara…
But now, I thought I just might.
