Chapter 34
About a month ago, a girl named Ellie appeared at our shop.
With a seemingly loyal maid in tow, she nitpicked every little thing about the clothes Joe and I had made. Truth be told, customers who raise such frivolous complaints are quite common.
Most of those who loudly flaunt their so-called "sense" are way off the mark, so it doesn't really bother me. A business smile and nodding along with a "Yes, yes, indeed" is all it takes.
But that girl was different.
Her critiques had substance.
What surprised me most was her insistence on removing all the frills from the currently trending one-piece dresses in Greifner and making them thinner. Instantly, I visualized the finished outfit and imagined myself wearing it.
Huh... this might actually be good. Simple, feminine—it could really bring out a woman's charm.
Joe had also been saying that Greifner's fashion trends were absurd.
Trends aren't about being right or wrong. If people collectively decide something is stylish, then wearing clothes that fit that shared value is what makes it a trend. If you make something that misses the mark, it won't sell. That's what I thought. But Joe disagreed.
He claimed the kingdom's current designs couldn't move forward unless they broke something first. He didn't care at all about sales or profits.
Despite being my younger brother, Joe had more foresight than I did. Even if his designs still had minor flaws, his skill far surpassed that of any ordinary designer. Having once aimed to be a court painter, his grasp of the fundamentals was rock-solid, and he never created clothes that were impractical to wear.
His ideas were grounded in reality.
Having worked at the royal court myself, convincing Joe to abandon his dream of becoming a court painter and join the shop was, in hindsight, the right call.
I decided to introduce Joe to that girl, Ellie.
A great idea might spark, and Mirrors—struggling to stay afloat—could get a lucky break. Hearing she was the young lady of the renowned Golden noble family, I sent someone to fetch her.
But, of all things, Joe insulted her appearance and got slapped for it. Her anger was justified. At that moment, I wanted to slap him myself.
That said, the young lady was a peculiar one.
At first glance, she seemed timid, but she was strangely assertive and a great listener. She knew when to stand firm, had a strong core, and was highly rational. On top of that, she possessed an immense knowledge of clothing—I lost count of how many times she surprised me that day.
She even had the shrewdness of a seasoned merchant. After reprimanding Joe once, she brushed it off like it was nothing and eagerly started discussing clothes... Truly, an impressive young lady.
Joe was utterly smitten with Lady Ellie. He constantly said things like, "Ellie would do this," "Ellie would think that," "Ellie this," "Ellie that." Whenever I pointed it out, he'd blush, retort in embarrassment—"Like I care about some fat girl!"—and my fist would inevitably meet his head.
I, too, was captivated by Lady Ellie's designs.
The dress she designed for her elder sister, Lady Amy, was exceptionally stunning, with realistic stitching and coloring that made mass production feasible.
If that beautiful young lady wore a sleek, vertical-striped one-piece, every single man in Greifner would turn their heads.
She even designed clothes specifically for me.
Can you believe it? Khaki long pants!
The only women who wore trousers in town were adventurers. Fashionable pants? Unheard of!
And this skirt wasn't just any skirt—it fell just below the knees with a flared hem. Lady Ellie called it "gaucho pants." How she came up with such ideas was beyond me.
The top was an audacious design—a white button-up shirt with the sleeves completely removed.
What Lady Ellie dubbed a "sleeveless shirt" exposed my entire upper arms, making me a bit embarrassed, honestly. She was so adamant—"Once I lose weight, I'll wear it too!"—it was adorable.
She insisted on a thin brown belt. I thought, "A belt? Really?" but Lady Ellie glared and declared, "If the accessories are tacky, the whole outfit is ruined." Her intensity was terrifying.
As for footwear, sandals—of course.
"Summer's almost here," she said matter-of-factly.
Black. With a glossy finish.
And the sandals she specified had a five-centimeter heel, making them look terribly hard to walk in. Impossible in the countryside, but manageable in the well-paved town.
"Lucky you, Misa—only a city girl living in town can pull this off," she mused cryptically. "City girl"? Another new term, I supposed. Then, with absolute confidence, she added, "It'll make your legs look longer." I immediately placed an order with the cobbler. Longer-looking legs? Every woman's dream.
The crowning touch? A straw hat. "Not essential, but I'd like it if you could make one," she said. Straw hats were something only farmers or village elders wore.
But, unsurprisingly, her design wasn't an ordinary straw hat. While typical ones had wide brims and round crowns, hers had a narrow brim and a flat cylindrical crown. She called it a "boater hat." Her naming sense remained as baffling as ever. Apparently, this "boater hat" could also complement Lady Amy's one-piece style.
The past three weeks had been a whirlwind.
First, I went to the fabric merchant and placed a bulk order for striped cloth.
When I handed over the order slip, the old man I knew blinked in shock.
"Misa, this thin fabric won't hold up for clothes!"
"Why not?"
"It's got zero defense!"
"Sir, the age of 'defense' is over. Now is the era of 'style.' I guarantee these zero-defense items will sell like crazy—I suggest mass-producing them."
"You sure about placing such a big order?"
He brushed off my words and glanced back at the slip.
"It's fine. But if this takes off, don't supply this low-defense fabric to other shops, okay?"
"Hmm, well..."
With a puzzled look, he kept rubbing his chin.
"Then let's make a bet. If I lose, I'll go on a date with you for a day. How's that?"
"...Oh-ho. Bold words, girlie. A date with a beauty like you? Sounds like a fairy tale to an old man like me. Not a bad wager."
"In that case, sign this contract."
He finally realized I was serious. A petty man would've shoved me away, but this was Greifner's top fabric merchant. Chuckling, he agreed—"This'll be fun"—and promised not to supply stripes, dots, borders, checks, or any other specialty fabrics to anyone but Mirrors.
After that, I frequented the weavers, cobblers, leatherworkers, hatters, and blacksmiths.
Here's what each of them said:
Weaver: "This fabric's too weak—a goblin could shred it in one hit!"
Cobbler: "Sandals as everyday wear? What about defense?!"
Leatherworker: "Who'd want a flimsy belt like this, fit for a child?"
Hatter: "Amateur designer, huh? The brim's too narrow to block sunlight."
Blacksmith: "HEY! What's this paper-thin bracelet?! You wear this for fashion?! One punch from a goblin and it's GONE, YO!"
Defense was all they cared about.
Exactly what you'd expect from the Martial Kingdom. I kept my business smile plastered on.
Still, I persisted, got production approvals, and—using bets as an excuse—secured exclusive deals with each. The blacksmith's rough demeanor was especially exhausting...
Every craftsman, convinced these designs would never catch on, signed the contracts without hesitation. The benefits on their side helped.
If the clothes sold, bulk orders would rake in profits.
If they flopped, they'd get a date with me.
Either way, they won.
...Honestly, I doubted I had that kind of charm, so boldly declaring, "I'll go on a date with you!" was mortifying.
In truth, this was all Lady Ellie's idea.
When a product trends, competitors inevitably follow, commoditizing it. The trendsetter must secure their rights, she said. I didn't understand the "commodity" explanation at all.
In short, it's like patenting a new spell—prevent others from copying your product. Of course, with multiple fabric suppliers, a monopoly was impossible, but since our partnered shops held the initial know-how, we'd have full exclusivity until competitors caught up. "You'll make a fortune in that window," she assured me.
She passionately insisted we use that time to differentiate ourselves completely, turning Mirrors into a brand. I was skeptical. Clothes were clothes—where you bought them shouldn't matter. To explain, she gave me a simple analogy:
"Say you're about to make an omelet, Misa."
"I hate eggs, though..."
"Ugh! It's hypothetical! So, you go to buy eggs."
"Fine. I go to buy eggs."
"The shop has two kinds: regular eggs and ones labeled 'Royal Court Approved.' The prices are similar. Which do you pick?"
"The royal ones, obviously."
"Why?"
"If the king eats them, they must be tastier."
My answer was natural.
Smirking triumphantly, she nodded.
"Misa, that's brand power."
"Huh?"
"Royal-approved eggs must be good. That famous adventurer's sword must be sharp. A restaurant branching from a renowned eatery must be delicious. And clothes from Mirrors? The most stylish in town... In reality, the difference might be negligible."
"I see... I can't quite wrap my head around it."
"Every Mirrors product will have a tag. And for my designs, label them 'Ellie Model.' Oh, and the logo—any ideas?"
"Joe's working on it desperately."
"Have him draft some options, you narrow them down, and I'll finalize. Sound good?"
"Of course!"
"Thanks. Once Greifner's women start questioning their wardrobe choices, sales will skyrocket. And when they do, Mirrors' logo will explode in popularity."
She looked genuinely excited recounting her plans.
She also had plenty of ideas for advertising.
Gazing at Greifner's streets, she pointed at buildings, murmuring, "That one... and that one would work," nodding to herself. No doubt another eccentric notion.
Time flew, and then—news came from the Golden family. Lady Ellie had been attacked. Like ice water dumped over my head, my blood ran cold. I panicked like never before.