WDHTMU | CHAPTER 31

   Chapter 31

To think he could pick her out so easily in this sea of people.

She vanished into the crowd in the blink of an eye, yet she was still unmistakable.

“Damn it… she really is pretty.”

When he first set off for the capital, James had grand dreams.

 I’ll make it big, he’d vowed. 

And when I return, I’ll have a woman at my side—prettier, sweeter, and far more alluring than that country girl with no pedigree. 

He imagined Marsha, along with everyone in their small town, falling to their knees in regret, wailing and begging for forgiveness.

But that primal desire… turned out to be far harder to fulfill than he’d imagined.

Pretty women didn’t come easy.

And no one wanted to hire someone like him—no talent, no drive. 

The few who did were from outside the capital…

“—James! Hey, James!”

His employer suddenly grabbed his ear and yanked.

“AAARGH!”

James flailed from the sharp pain and the loud, angry voice. 

Clutching his burning-red ear, he whimpered, only to be met with a tongue-click of disapproval.

“Tch. Daydreaming again? You got a death wish?”

“S-Sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

“I knew it. I should’ve known better than to hire a loser like you.”

He grumbled as James quickly pulled his hood over his head again and bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.

“Talk about a damn mouth on her. ‘Hired, ’ my ass.”

James had blown all his money—money he’d gotten through petty scams—on booze and gambling.

He even racked up debts.

Things got so bad that a thug nearly beat him to a pulp over pocket change.

That’s when she appeared.

“I’ll pay off every last coin you owe. But in return, you’ll work for me for a full year. No pay.”

James had grabbed her hand without thinking—and had regretted it every day since.

“Work” was generous.

It was more like slavery.

And to top it off, the debt he cleared wasn’t even that big—just about three months’ worth of wages at best.

“If that bastard wasn’t a noble, I’d have knocked him flat already.”

While James stewed in pointless fantasies, his employer massaged their throbbing temple, deep in thought.

‘Damn it… How the hell do I meet the Duke?’

It wasn’t a matter of want.

It was a matter of do or die.

‘If I don’t meet him soon… I’m not just in trouble—I’m doomed.’

.

.

.

Pushing through the thick crowd, Marsha finally arrived at the clothing shop.

“Excuse me? Is the owner here?”

“Oh my! What a lovely young lady!”

The shopkeeper greeted her with a delighted smile. 

“You’ve come at just the right time—we just got some stunning new spring dresses—”

“Ah, no—wait,” 

Marsha quickly waved her hands.

“Actually, I’m looking for something a man could wear.”

“Oh! Well, in that case, you’re still in luck! We carry a fantastic line of men’s fashion!”

“Would you happen to have anything ready-made? Something I can take right away?”

“Of course, dear! When the crowds hit like this, there’s no time for custom tailoring. You’d lose money that way,” the shopkeeper said, launching into an unprompted monologue. “That’s why I keep plenty of stock on hand, you see…”

“So what size are we looking for? If you’re not sure, even a rough idea will do.”

“Ah, just a moment… He actually came with me—”

As Marsha turned toward the door, the shopkeeper giggled behind her hand.

“Oh my! He came with you but didn’t step inside? He must be the shy, reserved type~”

“Ha… yeah.”

With an awkward laugh, Marsha cracked the door open and peeked outside.

Spotting Claudio standing just beside the entrance, she called out to him.

“I need to know your size. Can you come in for a second?”

“…”

He hesitated, just for a moment, then stepped inside.

The shopkeeper, who had been busily picking out the best pieces for a young man, paused when she heard his heavy footsteps.

She turned toward the door and gasped.

“W-welcome—!”

His jaw dropped.

It wasn’t just the worn, ragged fabric that clung to his frame—it was what lay beneath it.

“…Why is he so big?!”

“Pardon?” Marsha blinked.

“—I’ve seen the Duke’s knights before, and he’s way bigger than any of them!”

Mouth still agape, the shopkeeper rushed over with a measuring tape in hand.

“Would it—would it be alright if I took your measurements?”

Her voice had suddenly turned meek—timid to the point it was hard to believe she’d just been booming moments ago.

“…”

Claudio didn’t take off the fabric wrapped around him. 

Instead, he simply lifted it higher. 

His face remained hidden, but from the waist down, his physique was now fully revealed.

If his proportions were off, I could at least recommend something ready-made, the shopkeeper had thought—until now.

But even without using a measuring tape, she knew with absolute certainty.

“There’s nothing here that’ll fit him.”

“That’s okay—it doesn’t have to be a perfect fit. Do you have anything he could wear, just for now?”

The shopkeeper gave her a look like she’d just asked for the moon.

“Oh, sweetheart. With a waist that slim and legs that long? Nothing’s going to fit properly!”

She continued, now nearly breathless with disbelief, gesturing animatedly as she spoke.

“And it’s not just that he’s tall! He looks slim because of the muscles, but those thighs are thick. Solid as stone!”

“Dear, listen to me,” 

She was extremely serious.

“Even if you went to every shop in town, you wouldn’t find a single pair of pants that would fit him. It has to be custom-made.”

“W-what about a shirt?” Marsha asked hopefully.

“A shirt?” The shopkeeper turned to look at Claudio again.

Without a word, he lifted the fabric a bit higher.

Gasp.

That narrow waist, those thick pectorals, broad shoulders, that expansive chest—

“Nope. Nope! Shirts too! Custom only!” He cried in despair.

Marsha rubbed her forehead.

She had never really seen a man’s body up close before Claudio. 

And while she’d known he was well-built… she hadn’t realized just how well-built.

“So… You’re saying there’s nothing he can wear, even just for today?”

Clinging to the last shred of hope, Marsha asked one more time. 

The shopkeeper squinted, deep in thought—then clapped her hands.

“Ah! Wait, wait, I do have something. It’s very oversized, so it won’t look great and it might feel a bit stiff, but…”

“Perfect. We’ll take that one today.” 

Marsha said quickly.

“And could you start tailoring a pair of pants and a shirt for him, his exact size? As quickly as possible?”

“It’s doable, yes,” the shopkeeper said, already scribbling numbers in a notebook. 

“Though I’ll need a lot of fabric, and I’ll have to draw up an entirely new pattern…”

She flipped the notebook around to show the total.

“It’ll come out about this much. Is that alright?”

Marsha’s eyes widened.

Did she accidentally add an extra zero…?

But unfortunately, the number was correct. And it wasn’t a rip-off, either.

Her hand trembled as she reached for her coin pouch.

It was the largest amount she’d ever spent in one go.

Still… I can’t just make him walk around in those rags.

Besides, she could always bill his comrades later.

Surely, someone would repay her.

Yes. They will… they have to.

Marsha steeled herself and forced her lips to move, despite her pounding heart.

“…Let’s go ahead with it.”

“Wonderful, wonderful!” The shopkeeper beamed. “Then let’s get our gentleman’s measurements right away!”

He tiptoed toward Claudio, measuring tape in hand, her voice suddenly soft and hesitant.

“Um… would you mind, just for a moment… removing what you’re wearing…?”

Claudio stared at her.

Just stared. 

Nothing more.

Sensing exactly what that look meant, the shopkeeper flailed slightly in panic.

“Or—or just lift it again like before! That’ll be fine!”

Without a word, Claudio raised the cloth just high enough.

She dashed in, took the measurements with incredible speed, and stepped back, exhaling like she’d just escaped a lion’s den.

What kind of life am I living? Claudio thought with a silent huff of amusement.

Back at the Duke estate, he’d had his private designer—so exclusive the royal court had tried to poach them.

Even then, he only endured being measured about once a season.

Because Claudio hated people getting too close.

And now look at me.

The moment a stranger’s hand brushed against his skin, Claudio’s brows subtly furrowed.

…As expected, I don’t like this sort of thing.

He turned his gaze toward Marsha.

She was still staring down at the notebook, utterly dazed.

She hasn’t even closed her mouth. Just how much did that price come out to?

The corner of Claudio’s lips lifted ever so slightly.

Just watching her was strangely entertaining.

… But something doesn’t add up. 

Why would a woman living alone happen to have men’s clothing in the house?

Sure, the shirt had been ridiculously wide, and the pants were too short and stifling.

Even if it was something a commoner might wear, the quality was so rough it was almost comical.

Maybe they were meant for patients, he mused.

Clothes are loose enough to fit anyone, regardless of build.

If that were the case… Then had Marsha taken care of someone before him—another man?

Suddenly, Claudio’s amusement vanished. His expression went flat.

Why do I care? Why does this bother me so much?

Just then, Marsha finally looked up from the notebook.

Claudio thought for a second that she might glance at him—but instead, her eyes drifted past him, locking onto something else.

A mannequin.

Feeling a strange twinge of annoyance, Claudio followed her gaze.

The mannequin was dressed in a crisp white dress, over which hung a faded blue vest. 

There were pleats at the hem and lace trim on the edges—an earnest attempt at style.

But to Claudio’s eyes, it was cheap.

Plain and simple. 

Just another low-quality garment pretending to be more than it was.

His eyes drifted back to Marsha.

She didn’t even notice him watching.

She was completely absorbed in that outfit.

She likes it?