Chapter 129
Chapter 129
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 129
Chapter Title: Love Consultations and Atelier Reforms
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Emperor His Majesty's birthday celebration wrapped up after a few words of blessing in the audience chamber.
You might wonder why bother going to the audience chamber at all, but the audience during the birthday event is a spot set up for royals and foreign dignitaries to have private chats. For a small fry like me, the rule—and courtesy—is to offer quick greetings and slip out fast.
Once His Majesty's birthday passed, we threw a modest family party over the weekend to celebrate my promotion to baron.
We could've rented a grand hall and invited everyone we knew, but unfortunately, my sister-in-law's due date was approaching, so we kept it low-key.
Even though it's next month, things can happen anytime from a month out.
It's not her fault, and His Majesty sprang the title on us without warning, so we just rolled with it.
A new life was on the way soon—what's a barony compared to that?
The only hiccup was that her due date clashed with the messenger's birthday, meaning my brother couldn't stay by her side. He ended up bawling his eyes out at the celebration, but that's just how he is, so no one paid it much mind.
They just stole glances and fussed over my sister-in-law instead.
On that note, I gifted her some compression stockings, and her reaction was better than expected—I was caught off guard.
Mother and my sister-in-law's maids, mothers themselves, eyed them sparklingly too.
They seemed quite taken with them, and since Mother knows the materials well, she'll probably copy them herself if she likes.
Anyway, what started as a celebration for my ennoblement somehow turned into a fuss over my sister-in-law. I barely felt like a baron before weekday rolled around. It wasn't until I got to the atelier that I truly sensed the world had shifted a bit.
The staff just changed how they addressed me— their attitudes stayed the same—but the customers treated me very differently.
A few changes stood out.
"I heard you do love consultations too—is that right?"
"What nonsense is that?"
"Countess Tigris spread the word. She said anyone with love troubles should come to you."
One was that, thanks to Countess Tigris's vigorous networking, customers thought of me as a love consultant.
"My experience in romance is so limited, I doubt I can be much help..."
"Pardon? Word's spread across the Imperial Capital that Lord Howard's a romance expert—what are you talking about?"
"Pardon?"
As a result, my image was morphing into something bizarre.
A guy with no official girlfriends or fiancées being a romance guru? Princess Elizabeth would've burst out laughing on the spot.
"Kh... khh..."
No exaggeration—Emily was barely holding back her laughter right there.
"I don't know who's spreading these weird rumors, but I'm really no expert on love."
"But Princess Hayes and Countess Tigris vouched for you. Would they lie...?"
"Ah..."
Still, I couldn't play the total victim here. My romance portfolio was just too stacked.
One fiancée acquired, one marriage dramatically fixed.
Normalizing two couples in seven months? Yeah, people would think that.
"Sigh... I'll do consultations, but don't expect miracles. It was all good luck."
"Even a straw to grasp is fine."
I wasn't thrilled, but I couldn't make my sister and the countess liars, so I reluctantly started love consulting.
And from day one, taking that first client sparked something—every customer after brought their own thorny questions for advice.
"Should I go off-shoulder to highlight my shoulders? Or deep neckline to emphasize my chest?"
"With your build, princess, I'd emphasize your upper body but focus on the waist over shoulders or bust."
"But rumors say Young Lord Richard prefers that style."
"That's not something I can control..."
"Why not?"
"Urgh..."
Like customers requesting near-body-modifications to match their crush's tastes.
"That demihuman lady I glimpsed from afar on Founding Day won't leave my head..."
"That's too bad..."
"Any chance for even a slim shot? Something to catch her eye, flirting tips maybe...?"
"I get it, but at least know her race for any real advice..."
"Ah... well... urgh..."
Blame His Majesty hyping me as a bridge to demihuman friendship—people came asking how to catch demihuman ladies' or lords' eyes without knowing basics.
"Um, in two weeks, it's my, uh, wedding night. Wh-what outfit would be go-good for him...?"
"Er..."
Folks inspired by Countess Tigris's personality shift, seeking marriage advice.
"Is there really magic that makes you honest just by wearing clothes...?"
"No, nothing like that."
Weird rumors everywhere, plus folks from our mage family background chasing superstitions.
A barrage of impossible-to-answer questions had me drained.
Fitting nobles takes tens of minutes of consult routinely, but love or marriage talks? Hours.
If it was just time, fine.
But learning nobles' secrets I didn't want to know, consults turning to rants about partners—trouble galore.
And not one or two—daily influx left me no time at my workbench.
"Haa..."
This won't do.
Already short-staffed and swamped, workload only growing.
If this continues, tailors will scatter.
"Need to reorganize..."
The atelier's structure had to change.
We serve nobles, but born from military supply roots, we handle too many clients for our size.
Thus, simple stuff like bras or panties—doable after weeks of training—gets high-skill staff who could sew dresses. Massive talent waste.
Staff's personal grit covered it so far, but issues are surfacing. Time to fix.
Or next year's dress commissions? Bubbles burst.
"Hmm..."
But how?
Outsourcing? Burdensome.
Want exclusive synthetic fabrics for 1-2 years, cover premium quality and unique designs with skills. Outsiders complicate management, dilute our edge.
Our hook—"Cut by noble/royal tailors, sewn by landlord sewers, embroidered and adorned by elves"—is one-of-a-kind in the Capital, no, Empire.
Can't just hire more for a branch like current setup—management nightmare same as now.
Last resort: apprentice system to train tailors/seamstresses, brand them "our handmade disciples" to preserve value...
"How's Princess Aria's commission?"
"Sorry, still patterning."
"Fanny, can't speed it up?"
"I'll try."
"Please do."
Already battlefield vibes—add apprentices?
Need spare time to mentor; no spare, they're just sandbags.
"Hmm..."
Shift mindset.
Am I thinking too modern?
Try Industrial Revolution era—romance and savagery flowing.
Where 9-year-olds work 9 hours, protecting rights felt proud.
Our atelier's five-day week.
Flip: weekends free.
9-to-6 strict.
Flip: nights free.
Teach then?
Gather promising kids, sewing to workaholic Adelaide, patterning by me.
No work hours used—no job impact. I skip socials—time overflow. They get weekdays free for livelihoods...
"Perfect...?"
Win-win-win, clean plan.
Just handle Emily foaming at the mouth in protest—no other snags.
Venue?
Atelier.
Forget sometimes, but four floors.
Minus fourth for building manager/junior baron's family quarters—all workshop.
Convert a room or two to classroom—no staff path overlap.
Goals insane?
Nope.
By half-year, latest Q2 next year, train for undies/stockings or fabric-cutting—success.
That cuts workload 30%, they self-practice for XP.
"Yes, this it is."
Me suffer, all happy future.
How to pass that up?
"Mm..."
I picked up my pen, side-eyeing Emily in the workshop corner.
Persuading her is key hurdle.
Recalled ancient proverb, pen to paper.
"Easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission."
Recruit first, grovel later.
Emily's not heartless enough to abandon dreamers.
She'll yell at me, whine to Mother—but for greater good, necessary sacrifice.
I could take that heat.