Suit?
In Geoyeoge, suits were the exclusive domain of men.
On the rare occasion that a woman wore one, it was usually because she had once been a renowned knight. Even then, such cases were few and far between, making the sight of a suit on a woman a rather unfamiliar fashion in this world.
By the standards of this world, it was shocking. But to me, it felt oddly familiar.
“At least it doesn’t cling tightly to my body.”
The current trend was clothes that emphasized a slim waistline. This navy uniform, however, went completely against that trend. It didn’t hug the body—it flowed, falling in clean lines.
“And navy, of all colors. That’s bold.”
Young ladies in this world preferred brilliant, flamboyant colors. Navy was considered too masculine—hardly anyone would dare choose it.
“But it suits me perfectly.”
It matched my personal color palette, too.
The designers from Camellia and Seilia must have put a lot of thought into this.
Mary and Camellia were practically speechless.
Mary was the first to shriek.
“A young lady in a suit! I can’t breathe, I might faint!”
“Here, Mary, take this.”
Camellia handed her a handkerchief.
Mary blinked.
“Thank you, but why are you giving me this?”
“Because Lady Seila is wearing a suit. You’ll be having a nosebleed any moment now.”
“Oh! You’re right. Give me ten more, Lady Camellia!”
The two of them squealed and fussed over me.
The photoshoot went smoothly, and Camellia seemed thrilled with the results.
“I thought we’d need a magical optics technician to retouch these, but… I don’t think that will be necessary, Lady Seila.”
Ah, Photoshop.
This world had people with Photoshop-like abilities—magical optics technicians. But they were so rare that booking one was like plucking a star from the sky.
From a modern perspective, their skills weren’t even that dramatic.
“I can’t believe I’m thinking I don’t need retouching.”
Back in my old world, filters were non-negotiable when taking selfies. Not just filters—I’d slimmed my jaw, enlarged my eyes. Once, I’d botched the background while editing and got thoroughly mocked by my brother.
“Is it okay for me to be this satisfied with my own face?”
In the photos, I exuded an almost otherworldly aura.
Could a person really be this beautiful?
Even in my otherwise unfortunate situation, at least I had this unreal beauty.
“Milady, I’ve reserved a lodging for you. Why not rest here for the night and return to House Quayback tomorrow?”
“Yes, let’s do that.”
But that night, the rain began to fall.
And because of that rain, I realized something.
“Rain? In Molita Village?”
This place was known for sunshine all year round. Rain was almost unheard of.
Peering out the window at the drizzle, I shook the bell for Mary—
—but remembered she had gone to fetch food for tomorrow morning.
Suddenly, panic seized me.
“The flood. It’s coming.”
Molita Village: a peaceful place blessed with year-round sunshine. With no preparations against floods or water damage, the great flood spurred the villagers into developing such measures.
It wasn’t even part of my playable route—just a detail buried in the setting materials.
But of all days, this had to be the day of that flood.
My chest clenched, breath catching.
A haze of white fog seemed to close in around me.
“Death’s threat—again!”
The drizzle would soon turn into a downpour.
“I’ve made so much money—am I supposed to drown here?!”
I quickly changed clothes.
It would’ve been better if I had training wear, but I didn’t. Still, the Seilia-brand suit I had on was far more practical than a heavy, dragging gown.
“The raindrops are already getting thicker.”
Soon, this whole village would be under water.
The Photographer
Picture, a magical device photographer, forty-four years old, sipped his tea with a satisfied expression.
“I’ve never seen a lady so beautiful. Ah, not that Lady Camellia is any less, of course.”
Camellia smiled faintly.
“You can be honest. Even I’ve never seen a young lady with such a mysterious aura as Seila.”
The two were having tea, discussing how best to market the results of today’s shoot.
“Oh? My lady, it’s raining.”
“Yes, it is.”
Picture opened the window and reached out his hand. Raindrops pattered against his palm.
“I’ve photographed here hundreds of times, but I’ve never once seen rain—huh? Isn’t that Lady Seila?”
“What?”
Camellia hurried to the window.
Sure enough, Seila was running through the rain in her navy suit—without an umbrella.
Picture suddenly leapt up, fumbling to gather his photographic equipment, his breath quickening.
“What are you doing?”
“I have a feeling. As if I’m about to capture the greatest achievement of my career.”
He had already felt that way photographing her earlier today. But this—this was something greater still.
If he let this moment slip away, he was sure he’d die of frustration.
“I must follow Lady Seila. If I don’t capture her tonight, I’ll never forgive myself.”
And with that, he dashed out into the storm.
The Flood
According to the lore, Molita Village suffered a great flood once every few centuries.
But centuries were long enough to make people complacent.
“They won’t have maintained the drainage system at all.”
Once the water rose further, it would be impossible to find the drains. She had to act now.
“There it is.”
At the central square stood the largest drainage grate—clogged with debris.
“Good thing I brought my sword.”
Seila raised her blade.
Picture, the photographer, snapped away furiously.
“Beautiful.”
A lady, soaked through in the rain without an umbrella, might normally look vulgar. But not Seila.
In her suit, holding the ceremonial sword bestowed by House Quayback, she looked like an angel descended from heaven—one who wielded a blade.
With sharp, practiced strikes, she cut away the debris clogging the drain, and water began to flow again.
The rain intensified, drumming down like buckets being poured.
Water reached her knees. In the lower parts of town, residents were already floundering.
Then Picture saw something even more astonishing.
“She bent down?”
The water had risen too high; the sword was useless now. Seila crouched down, plunging her hands into the filthy water, pulling debris free with her bare fingers.
A noble young lady—using her own hands?
Had he not seen it himself, he would never have believed it.
The things she pulled free were foul, slimy, filthy. Yet, in her hands, even that act looked beautiful.
Finally, the water began to recede, draining away through the grate.
Seila lifted her gaze to the torrential sky and smiled lightly—as though she had simply done what had to be done.
She reached out a hand to someone clinging to the front of a shop.
“Mary. Take my hand.”
“M-Milady? How are you here?”
“Quickly.”
This low-lying area had already suffered greatly. Thanks to Seila, the water level had dropped from chest-high to thigh-high. But the people were still panicked, frozen in fear.
Mary grabbed her hand.
Seila had originally only meant to save Mary. But inside the shop, she saw others—terrified, paralyzed. A small child. An elderly woman.
“…Sigh.”
She couldn’t leave them.
“I am Seila d’Vernon, daughter of House d’Vernon. This place is too dangerous—those of you who are able, follow me.”
She pointed out two sturdier townsfolk and ordered them to carry the child and the old woman.
Then, leading the group, she pressed against the raging current, making her way toward higher ground.
Had she not cleared the drains earlier, the entire low quarter would already have been underwater.
“L-Lady Seila!”
Mary suddenly screamed, pointing upward.
A wall of water, far greater than before, was bearing down on them.
One villager muttered in despair.
“T-The embankment… it’s broken.”
“The embankment’s collapsed?!”
It was like a tidal wave.
Panic spread. Some cursed Seila.
“This is your fault!”
“We should have gone to the rooftops instead.”
“We’re doomed! We’re all going to die!”
As the torrent bore down to swallow them whole, when all hope seemed lost—
Seila drew her sword.
