The Century's Invention! Navy Suits and Voices from the Grave
72. The century's invention! In the end, the navy blue fabric was decided exactly as Kim Yang wanted. Honestly, plain black would've been more comfortable for me, but hey, she's an SNS influencer—her sense for the young crowd has gotta be sharper than mine. 'Meracle targeting the younger generation. Nice.' Sure, there's that one 1,902-year-old culprit jacking up the average age, but you exclude outliers like her when calculating averages.
With Kim Yang calling all the shots, things moved along briskly. "Alright, then let's get the measurements started."
The shop owner whisked Kim Yang away immediately. At first, I had no clue what "measurements" even meant—it was just taking sizes. "B-boss. T-take a pic."
"Huh? Oh! Got it."
I figured it out quick enough. He snapped a photo with the phone she'd handed him. Surprisingly, they used a regular old measuring tape for the actual sizing.
"Arms up, please."
I raised both arms, and the owner started measuring from my ribs up to my chest. '...This is kinda embarrassing.' It felt weird suddenly knowing an employee's chest size, so I tried to look away—
"Wh-what size?"
"Pardon? Oh—underbust 75cm, overbust 95cm. That's a 75E cup."
"Phew."
I wondered why she'd even ask. Through the mirror, Kim Yang shot me a smug look, clearly proud of herself. 'Is that the kind of confidence that makes her an influencer? Or does being one build it up?'
'Come to think of it, does Kim Yang work out?' The thought hit me mid-hip measurement. She scarfs down junk food like it's nothing, but her body's got that toned look.
"Wh-what're you staring at?"
"Huh? Oh... sorry."
I'd zoned out, staring right at her butt. She glared at me through the mirror, horns and all.
"S-sexual harassment. I'm s-suing you."
"You're misunderstanding, boss."
"P-pay up the settlement."
Luckily, the shop owner just chuckled and let it slide. Good thing he took it as a joke.
"Measurements complete. Who's next?"
"Right here."
I shrugged off my jacket and stepped up naturally, but Kim Yang had a quick word with the owner first. Then she grabbed the tape herself.
"What're you doing?"
"I-I'll do it."
"Why?"
"V-vlog. Oh! D-does the boss know SNS?!"
"..."
Of course I do. As I deflated, the owner kindly explained. "She wants to film the experience for a video."
"Won't the sizes be off?"
"I'll supervise from the side—no worries."
Fine, whatever. I stood in front of the mirror, and Kim Yang dove right in, starting with my head circumference.
"Hey, why the head?"
"H-head size."
"You're killing me."
Shoulders, chest, hips followed in order. For the chest, she kinda hugged me from behind, which made me tense up a bit. Knowing it was a precise 75E now made the sensation against my back... weird.
"Ahem."
I coughed awkwardly, and she whispered right in my ear.
"P-pervert."
"Shut it."
She says stuff to me she'd never dare to the owner. Hips, thighs, calves later, and measurements wrapped up. The owner neatly logged our data on his tablet and beamed.
"Cutting usually takes about two weeks, but we'll rush this to around one."
"Appreciate it."
"Once you edit the video, send it over before uploading. We need to review it."
"O-obviously."
Their chat continued—sponsorship details, shooting the suit reveal at the end for a big highlight. Pretty in-depth stuff. I listened quietly while scoping the place out. That's when I spotted the shoes.
'Oh yeah, mine are beat.' After a moment's thought, I chimed in.
"You sell shoes separately too?"
"Yep. Not our brand, though—we collaborate with—"
I got the gist and nudged Kim Yang. "Pick out a pair. Suits are on the house thanks to you—least I can do is cover shoes."
"R-really?"
"Think I'd lie?"
"Th-they're pricey here."
"I got cash."
I flashed a grin, and after staring at me, she nodded shyly, cheeks pink.
"...Thanks."
Remodeling was done. I figured it'd drag on forever, but handing it to a contractor with mages on staff? Blazing fast.
Meracle had a total glow-up. Navy blue everywhere. Second floor stayed the entrance, but we ditched the consult rooms for a clean lobby setup—lounge sofas, TV, water purifier, plants. Comfy for waiting clients.
The big win? A compact staircase linking second and third floors inside. Took begging the gukbap auntie for permission and a fat contractor bill, but worth it. Felt good.
Third floor: sleek navy hallway, modern vibe. Three rooms—two consult offices, one main office. Thought about a boss suite, but it'd just become communal nap central anyway.
'That cost a fortune...' My one brag was no bank loans before. Dumped all my 7th-floor resettlement cash to launch debt-free. Now? Loans. Monthly payments to the bank.
Still, proper company vibes? Pride swell.
"Whoa, whoaaa...!"
Second-floor lobby. Renea gawked at the fresh interior.
"Where does this lady work?!"
"The office—"
"Office lady at last?!"
"You'll clean."
"..."
Janitor granny role unchanged. Raichen Spilcold stood statue-still by the lobby desk. I'd set him up with a PC—he adapted quick, sorting files already.
"Raichen, you're on front desk now. Consult queue, payments, reservation calls all route here."
"Understood, sir."
"Basically, you run second floor."
Reliable as hell. I grinned proudly—then Kim Yang descended from the third-floor stairs. Her navy suit from Alromang? Perfect fit.
"B-boss. Two c-consult rooms?"
She tilted her head, puzzled. Only I handle consults—why two? I chuckled and cleared my throat.
"Ahem! Meracle, lineup!"
Raichen snapped to attention like a soldier. Tower folk and their hierarchies.
"This lady knows it well!"
Classic 1,900-year-old elf boomer. Glimpse of how she whipped kids back in the day. The two lined up ramrod straight. Kim Yang sighed and joined.
"Ahem. Meracle's leaping to new heights."
"Yaaawn."
Kim Yang fake-yawned loud enough to hear. I ignored it.
"To fuel this leap, time for rewards on your duties."
"Rewards?!"
Renea beamed innocently. The other two perked up too.
"First, Kim Yang."
I pulled a slim employee badge from my pocket and handed it over.
"Promoted from staff to deputy! No more desk drone—you're managing consults with me now."
Raichen and Renea clapped wildly. Kim Yang blinked in shock, then took it gingerly.
"Th-thanks."
"Haha! Keep grinding for Meracle."
"P-promotion means... raise?"
"...You could say that."
"H-how much?"
"Details later."
"..."
I'm broke now. Can't bump it much. Pay talk looming, so next up.
"Raichen! Full-time hire for solid intern work!"
"Thank you, sir."
Intern stint was short, but he's free labor anyway.
"Got your suit? Wear it to work from now on."
"Yes, sir."
Money talks. Instant compliance. Last one. Renea stared with sparkling eyes.
"Renea!"
"Yesss! This lady's right here!"
I grinned back and fetched an item from behind the counter, handing it over.
"Cordless vacuum granted. Keep Meracle spotless."
"..."
"Was gonna get a robot vac, but then you'd be jobless—wh-whoa, bow drawn! Block it! Block!"
Parang Pureum Apartments. Third-floor unit—prime middle-class family size, cozy as hell. Weekend mornings, kids' laughter from the playground wafted in, warming the whole building.
"Ah, fuck..."
Glasses on, unwashed hair in a sloppy ponytail. A once-promising mage from the Abyss Research Club, now stuck as a third-floor office drone thanks to Tower politics. Ophelia slammed the balcony window shut, muffling the kids.
"Some of us gotta grind weekends on a laptop."
White tank top, short shorts. Toothbrush in mouth, she glared at her laptop irritably. Rustling from the sofa behind.
"Up? Let's eat. Whatcha want?"
"Mm."
The blanket shifted, revealing Beloah of the Infinite Library. Post-Gellawind's funeral, she hadn't returned—instead, freeloading at her classmate's.
"Anything..."
"You say that then get picky. Sigh. When you heading back to the library?"
"Dunnooo."
Back under the covers. Then—dingdongdingdongdingdong!
Doorbell mashed repeatedly.
"What psycho—"
"Shhh, noisy..."
Ophelia shoved past Beloah's ear-plugged whine and yanked the door open.
"Who is it?!"
A tall guy stood there—wild, spiky hair, huge eyes twitching.
"Arachino? What're you doing here?"
Arachino, fellow Abyss alum from the funeral.
"H-here! B-Beloah! She's h-here, right?!"
"Uh... yeah."
The necromancer—master of spirits—couldn't stay still. Ophelia only clocked it as a tic disorder after they hit third floor. Hearing Beloah was home, he barged right in, clutching a white bundle like a baby.
Ophelia scowled. "What's the..."
Beloah sat up, blanket-wrapped like a burrito. Arachino plopped down dramatically and unwrapped his bundle on the table—
"A radio?"
Eerie purple mana rippled visibly—even to Beloah's eyes.
"Ugh."
Stench hit like a punch. Ophelia flung the window open for ventilation.
"I-I! I did it! I! F-found the world's t-truth!"
"Secret?"
"Started simple—wanna hear my corpses' voices! Past lives or j-just obeying?!"
TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!
"B-but! Made something weird! L-look! Your fancy library won't have this! See, see!"
"What is it..."
No time for answers—click! Button pressed.
Click! Arachino bit his nails ragged, staring at Beloah.
"Arachino, no way this is—"
"J-joke... right? Right?!"
Beloah and Ophelia gawked at their old classmate in disbelief. But Arachino wasn't the joking type.
"Snuck Gellawind's fountain pen from the funeral. It... became the medium. Th-this! Beloah—!"
Looks like I...
"Figured out the afterlife!"