Chapter 7
“Shall We Rest Here for Today?”
The Barony of Hubert was far from the capital, befitting a low-ranking noble house. Unlike the smaller towns they’d passed so far, this village was larger and bustling with people. Though not glamorous, the weathered shop signs were well-kept, cheerful employees stood outside inviting customers in, and young couples browsed displays, creating a peaceful and lively atmosphere.
Jack told the coachman to take the carriage to the reserved inn first, then pointed toward a clothing shop a block away.
“This town’s close to the capital, so it’s bigger and busier. Once we reach the capital, we’ll head straight to the Marquis’ estate. It would be best to buy new clothes here.”
“New clothes?”
Calliope blinked her crimson eyes, puzzled. Jack straightened his shoulders, standing tall.
She had lived in poverty, after all. She likely hadn’t worn fine or freshly made clothing before.
“You can’t exactly show up at the Marquis’ manor wearing that, can you?”
“…You’re right.”
In the remote villages, decent clothing shops were hard to find. The outfit she wore now had been bought at a premium from a village chief who had a daughter around her age. It was made from coarse, plant-based fabric and had already begun to wrinkle.
It wasn’t the ragged, shabby outfit she’d worn before, so it wasn’t completely awful—but it was stiff, scratchy, and dull in color. No matter how generously one viewed it, it was impossible to mistake her for a noble young lady.
The current Marquis, who had some idea of how she’d been living, wasn’t going to judge her based on her clothes. Still, Jack knew that she needed to look presentable in front of the other household members and had been given enough money to prepare accordingly.
“We’re short on time, so it’ll be best to find something pre-made that fits.”
Calliope didn’t reply. Instead, she began walking toward the boutique.
She remembered—Jack had taken her to this same village in the past and bought her clothes here. Back then, she’d been so grateful for even a single new outfit that she hadn’t paid much attention. Still, she did recall that the clothes he picked hadn’t been particularly high-end.
Knowing Jack Beckham’s personality, he probably hadn’t skimmed off the money. He just hadn’t put much thought into it.
The pre-made outfits weren’t made with nobility in mind. They were meant for middle-class young women who could afford a little luxury. Naturally, the quality and design were a step below what actual nobles wore.
Ding! The bell gave a slightly dull ring as Calliope opened the door to the boutique.
“Welcome!”
A store clerk came rushing over but paused when she saw Calliope. A girl in rough, plain clothing, standing alone. The clerk hesitated for a moment, then smiled kindly.
“Looking for clothes? Please, come in.”
The clerk, Celia, was used to customers in worn-out clothes. Even though the town was close to the capital, the shop’s main clients were commoners with modest means. Some girls even came in with months of savings to buy a new dress for a special occasion.
From the back, the shop owner, Romanda, peeked out after hearing Celia’s voice and called over.
“Just handle her quickly and come help me pin this fabric.”
Even with a customer clearly standing in the shop, Romanda said it aloud. That was because Calliope looked like a poor commoner girl. Celia gave an awkward smile and hurried to attend to her small guest.
In truth, most boutiques—Romanda’s included—didn’t welcome customers like her. Those who spent ages picking out an inexpensive dress, paying in coins touched by dirt and sweat.
But Celia didn’t want to ruin someone’s special day. Whether it was a birthday or just a personal celebration, she didn’t want to treat a customer poorly when they’d come in with hope in their heart.
“Are you here to look at our ready-made clothes? We just finished some new ones this week. Have a seat—I’ll show you a few.”
“Sure,” Calliope replied softly, giving a nod.
She glanced once at the shopkeeper who had now disappeared behind the curtain again.
Just then, Jack arrived and poked his head into the store.
“This looks like the largest shop around here, though it’s still small compared to the capital. Well, it doesn’t matter. You’ll only wear the clothes once anyway.”
As the well-dressed nobleman stepped inside behind the young girl, Celia blinked in surprise.
Calliope, indifferent, walked toward the clothing racks and began to carefully examine the fabrics and designs.
“Right,” she murmured.
If she had still been a clueless countryside girl, she probably would’ve been dazzled by the soft fabrics and delicate lace—so unlike anything she’d ever worn before. But unfortunately for the boutique, the current Calliope had returned from the future. She was no longer so easily impressed.
Celia hesitated as she observed Calliope inspecting the clothes with a sharp, discerning gaze. The girl was certainly pretty, and at first glance, her plain clothes had suggested she was a commoner. But now, she wasn’t so sure.
If you looked closely, her pale white hair was sleek and well-groomed. That meant she’d used perfumed oil—something no poor commoner could afford. But then, the back of her hands and her fingers were dotted with tiny scars. That meant she’d done labor—real work.
Still undecided, Celia stood in silence, until the boutique’s owner, Romanda, who had been working in the back, came over and muttered,
“That man’s a noble.”
“Right? He clearly is.”
“What’s the relationship between them? At best, they’re distant cousins.”
Picking up on the implication in Romanda’s tone, Celia openly frowned in distaste.
“Don’t be gross, Romanda.”
It wasn’t uncommon for wealthy nobles to provide for beautiful commoners, dressing them up and keeping them close. Celia didn’t judge those relationships—but to imply such a thing about this pair? The girl looked far too young for that.
“There are nobles who prefer them young, you know.”
“Let’s stop this conversation right here.”
“Fine, fine.”
Romanda shrugged and moved toward the nobleman. Jack, like Calliope, had been browsing the ready-made garments when he turned his head toward Romanda as she approached.
“Our boutique’s ready-to-wear pieces are lovely, of course, but custom tailoring is always more elegant.”
“That’s true. But we’re only staying for the night and leaving tomorrow—we don’t have time for a fitting.”
“Oh my, traveling, are you? Even so, it’s not our busiest season. With a little extra effort, we could finish a custom piece in one day.”
Of course, it would require a generous tip—but she left that part unsaid. Jack, of course, understood the implication. Still, a custom fit was better than off-the-rack, so he turned to Calliope to ask,
“My lady, what would you prefer? They say a custom order is still possible within a day.”
Calliope, who had been lazily flicking through the clothes on the rack, tilted her head to the side and answered coolly.
“No need. Like you said, it’s just something to wear once and throw away.”
Something to wear and throw away.
Romanda’s brows instinctively furrowed at those words, but neither Jack nor Calliope paid any attention to her discomfort. Finding nothing she liked among the racks, Calliope sighed and gestured toward Celia. Reflexively, Celia hurried over and bowed slightly.
“Is there something specific you’re looking for?”
She still looked like a commoner, but the nobleman had addressed her as my lady and spoken to her with respect. In the face of this confusing contradiction, Celia decided to treat the girl as a noble.
Unlike the shop owner, Celia’s polite attitude made Calliope reconsider her earlier urge to cause a scene.
“The designs are nice on some, but the fabric’s rough. And when the fabric is decent, the design isn’t.”
“Ah… well, most of our ready-made clothes are made for commoner customers, so we try to keep the prices manageable…”
“I know it’s just a one-time outfit, but could you recommend a few of the better ones?”
Celia shot a quick glance at Romanda, who was now flushed red with embarrassment, then pulled out a red dress made from a slightly finer fabric. The light material shimmered as it moved—certainly not cheap-looking.
“This is probably the best-quality fabric among the pre-made clothes. The ribbons and lace here are the highlights.”
As Celia explained with care, Calliope listened quietly, then glanced at Jack with a meaningful look. Jack stepped closer, sensing she wanted something, but tilted his head in confusion when he couldn’t figure out what.
Calliope rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed, and held out her hand.
“Not the button. A tip.”
Was the memory of her tearing off his button really that traumatic? Why did he keep trying to hand her buttons whenever she reached out?
Looking exasperated, Calliope clarified. Jack, embarrassed, looked like he wanted to smack himself, then pulled out a silver coin from his pocket and handed it over.
The pouch his master had given him was filled with gold, but tipping with gold in a commoner’s boutique felt excessive. Calliope clicked her tongue in mild disapproval, but didn’t say anything more and gave a small nod.
“What else do you have?”
Caught off guard by the unexpected silver tip, Celia blinked and quickly brought out another dress.
“This green one uses mid-range fabric, but the pleated design is very trendy right now. It gives off a modern, refined image.”
“And the next one?”
Calliope nodded slightly and flicked her fingers again at Jack. This time, he understood right away and placed another silver coin in Celia’s hand.
She had only described two dresses and was already holding two silver coins. Staring down at them in surprise, Celia began to feel a creeping sense of unease. And sure enough, her fear came true.
“This yellow dress isn’t expensive, but the fabric is imported from a southern kingdom—”
“Next.”
“And the navy one here is made of high-quality silk, the texture—”
“Next.”
“This one—”
“Next.”
Jack winced at the repetition. The way she kept saying “next” reminded him too much of how she used to repeat “and?” in front of him—an almost unbearable pressure in a single word. It seemed to be a habit of hers, applying subtle yet relentless pressure.
How had someone who’d lived as a commoner learned to speak like that?
Even so, Jack dutifully followed her silent signals and pulled out another silver coin.
