RBYL 07

“Erika.”

Click—the Marchioness set down her teacup and called my name.

At that overly gentle voice, a chill suddenly crept down my spine. Internally gagging in disgust, I outwardly flinched as if startled and hurriedly answered.

“Y-Yes!”

“Which dress do you like the most?”

“Uh, I…”

I slowly scanned over the dresses again.

What do you think—should I play dumb and pick the prettiest, most expensive one?

“I—I like… that blue… dress…”

The one I chose was a dress tinted with a soft sapphire-blue hue overall. The small puffed shoulders were adorned with delicate jewels and lace, and from them flowed floating sleeves—long enough to drape from the elbows down to mid-thigh.

The high-waisted bodice was dazzling yet not gaudy, carrying both elegance and a sense of antique nobility—it was easy to tell it would cost a fortune. And the skirt, with its structured silhouette… well, that spoke for itself.

The semi-transparent partlet covering the chest was intricately decorated with pearls, while fine lace ran along the sleeves and edges of the dress.

And the skirt sparkles depending on the angle. It looks like they literally ground up gemstones and sprinkled them over it. Just how insanely expensive is that?

Given how the pale watery fabric didn’t clash with the shimmer, it was probably aquamarine or even diamonds.

What a ridiculous waste of money.

The Marchioness’s face twitched slightly when she saw the dress I picked, though she forced a smile.

“That… dress?”

She pointed to it with her fan. I nodded cautiously, pretending to be unsure.

“Y-Yes… If it’s difficult, I can choose something else…”

“Difficult? Well…”

At the word difficult, the designer who had been recording my measurements glanced at the Marchioness. Veins bulging faintly on her forehead, the Marchioness laughed lightly.

“For my only niece, nothing is too difficult. Madame Medis.”

“Yes, my lady.”

At her call, the designer responded promptly. Without hesitation, the Marchioness ordered the dress I had chosen.

“Make that dress according to Erika’s measurements taken today.”

“Understood. I will return next month on the same day with the finished dress.”

After finishing her notes, Madame Medis stood up. I sneakily checked my recorded measurements and felt relieved—despite being starved, my size hadn’t changed much.

That “author’s buff” is seriously useful.

Even without proper protein intake, evening primrose and moonflower apparently prevent muscle loss indefinitely.

Maybe that’s the real fantasy element of this world.

I got to mess with the Marchioness, confirm my body was intact, and even secure a gorgeous sparkling dress.

Two birds with one stone—no, make that three.

“Very well. More importantly, Madame Medis.”

With a soft flick, the Marchioness opened her fan and covered her lips.

“Yes, my lady.”

“I would like… to meet Lady Haesu.”

“—Cough! Cough, hack—!”

Caught completely off guard by her sudden words, I choked.

Both the Marchioness and Madame Medis turned to look at me. I quickly covered my mouth.

“S-Sorry…!”

“It’s alright, Erika. Your measurements are done, so you may return to your room.”

“Cough… Yes…”

Clearing my throat, I hurried out of the drawing room.

I didn’t expect the Marchioness of Seluria to want to meet ‘Haesu’.

Not even the Marquis—but the Marchioness herself.

She was supposed to be from a noble family that converted from the New Faith to the Old Faith—meaning she should be especially hostile toward commerce.

Is it just for connections? Or does she want financial support?

In this quasi–early modern European world heavily influenced by capitalism, “Haesu” was known as a mysterious billionaire hidden behind a veil.

Naturally, many nobles wanted ties with her—especially those of the New Faith, who were more open to commerce.

But the Marchioness is a core noble of the Old Faith…

That makes no sense.

The Old Faith was made up of emperor-loyalists who believed imperial authority was absolute and divinely granted—and that commerce was vulgar.

The kind of people who proudly say nonsense like “Latte is horse.”

…Though, the New Faith has been gaining influence lately.

Unlike the corrupt pope of the Old Faith, the New Faith’s pope preached that one could be saved through sincere devotion alone—without donations. Naturally, the common people supported that.

Most merchants were commoners.

To them, a faith that rejected class hierarchy and encouraged them to fulfill their role faithfully was far more appealing than one that emphasized social superiority.

After all, religion is a numbers game. Not quality—quantity.

So it’s natural the Old Faith feels threatened.

Still, for now, the Old Faith remained dominant. It had over a thousand years of tradition, while the New Faith was barely a century old.

Personally, it would benefit me if the New Faith overtook them—but even if things stayed as they were, I didn’t really care.

Because no matter how powerful the Old Faith was, it couldn’t override the influence of capital that had already permeated this world.

And in that world, I’ve already won.

Two more years. Just two.

If I could endure that long, I’d become untouchably wealthy.

Humming to myself, I returned to my tiny attic room.

When nothing was happening, the servants never showed their faces—but lately, their visits had increased.

“Half-blood miss. Eat this.”

They didn’t give me meals, but brought vegetables like cucumbers for skincare.

“Half-blood miss. Use this soap from today. And apply this after washing.”

Still no food—but expensive soap and lotion.

“Half-blood miss. You’re not getting fat, are you? Don’t eat too much.”

Still no food—but they came to check if I’d gained weight.

Seriously, give me food first before asking that! I’m surviving on tiny handfuls of nuts I secretly saved!

With servants constantly going in and out of the fourth floor, Vincent visited far less often too. I could barely even remember what bread looked like.

If this were Korea, at least I’d get rice…

“…I’m hungry…”

Curled up on the bed, I muttered weakly.

“Hrrr…”

At my pitiful groan, Shasha panicked and tapped my cheek with her head. When that didn’t work, she even lightly bit my cheek.

I let out a faint laugh.

“I’m not dead, Shasha.”

After carefully examining me with her mismatched golden and silver eyes, she finally relaxed.

Then she coiled herself neatly and closed her eyes, as if concentrating.

“…?”

I wanted to ask what she was doing—but I didn’t even have the energy.

After a while…

Something like white mist began to gather in front of Shasha.

…Huh?

Bit by bit, it condensed—like cotton—until it took the shape of a large, round bun.

Thud.

The moment it formed, it dropped onto the bed.

Shasha opened her eyes and pushed the oversized “bread” toward me with effort.

“Is this for me?”

She nodded.

Then she opened her mouth wide in a biting gesture.

“…You want me to eat it?”

She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling as if saying, It’s delicious.

“…Alright.”

You said there wouldn’t be magical elements, didn’t you, Lee Shina.

Then what is this?

I sniffed it—but there was no smell at all.

Still… it probably wasn’t poison.

And even if it is… who cares?

I took a bite.

My eyes widened.

…What is this…?

It was amazing.

Sweet like cotton candy, yet nutty—and it melted in my mouth while still feeling filling.

I shot upright and devoured it.

This was insane. Revolutionary.

Just what is Shasha?

And why a snake, of all forms?

She looks like a snake—but barely has any of a snake’s traits…

Seeing me enjoy it, Shasha stretched forward proudly.

Her mismatched eyes sparkled brilliantly, full of satisfaction.