Chapter 132
Chapter 132
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 132
Chapter Title: Late-Night Stitches and Worry
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"Haa..."
In the dark room, relying on the dim lantern light, I glanced at the clock while diligently working my hands and let out a deep sigh.
The clock had already passed 11 and was creeping toward 12, but the pile of work showed no sign of shrinking.
The gift for Her Highness the Princess was piling up bit by bit, I needed to hire new people, the tax audit that got muddled after my prison stint required sorting documents and submitting them, and with about a month left until National Founding Day, I had to keep that in mind too.
"Urgh..."
I turned my stiff neck with a groan and blankly stared at the ceiling.
I wished there were two of me.
Strictly speaking, there were plenty of tasks I could delegate to others.
If I offloaded a few and focused, I'd have some breathing room, but my personality made it impossible—I'd be too anxious to hand things off.
I wasn't a perfectionist, but as a gloomy, broken person with deep-seated distrust of others, I just couldn't entrust work to anyone.
It was fine if I supervised, but anything happening out of my sight felt like using the bathroom without washing my hands— this nagging unease.
If I had some trauma, that'd be one thing, but I hadn't been scammed or badly betrayed, yet the anxiety was overwhelming.
I'd tried fixing it because even I found myself frustrating...
Unfortunately, it didn't work.
Changing innate personality isn't easy, but it felt like I was on the verge of a mental breakdown, so I gave up quick before I shattered completely.
"Sigh..."
If it was unavoidable and uncorrectable, all I could do was accept it and try to enjoy it as much as possible.
The silver lining was that most of it involved sewing clothes, which I loved, so the needlework was bearable even when exhausting.
If it wasn't clothing design, I never would've pushed this far anyway...
"...Ow!"
Was I lost in thought too long?
In my daze, I stabbed my finger with the needle.
The sharp pain made my legs buckle and my butt clench; I hurriedly tossed the fur onto the desk like it burned and checked my finger.
Dark red blood beading up on the side of my thumb.
"No..."
Pale as a ghost, I wrapped my thumb in a handkerchief and rummaged through the fur with my good hand, scanning for any bloodstains.
Thankfully, I'd set it down before the blood welled up—no stains in sight.
If it had gotten on there, I'd have wasted hours sneaking to the sink at night to wash and dry it; disaster averted.
"Whew..."
I sighed in relief and pressed hard on my thumb.
How many months—years?—since I last pricked myself?
I must be exhausted and scatterbrained; I made a total beginner mistake.
If I kept at it like this, I'd stab myself again.
Tomorrow's the weekend with plenty of time, no need to rush—better wrap up moderately and sleep.
"Tch..."
I smacked my lips and stood from my chair.
- Click...
"Young master..."
At the same moment, the door slowly creaked open, revealing Emily with a complicated expression.
"I-I was just about to sleep, see? I was heading to bed, right?"
"......"
I hurriedly gestured toward the bed to prove my point, but Emily just stared silently.
...Is she mad?
Her face didn't look angry, but the vibe was off.
"Emily, sorry. You know how busy I've been lately, so..."
"Haa..."
"Gulp..."
I started with excuses, but she just exhaled deeply.
I shut my mouth, swallowed hard, and waited for her response.
"Young master, I know full well how busy you are from watching by your side, so I won't say much this time."
Thank goodness—she was cutting me some slack.
"Thanks..."
As I smiled in relief, Emily shook her head, stepped inside, closed the door, and gazed at me intently with sad eyes before speaking.
"But lately, you seem to be pushing yourself too hard. I worry every time I see you."
"What?"
I furrowed my brow and shot back.
Busy, sure, but thanks to Emily's close watch, I slept plenty and hadn't overdone it.
"Young master, you haven't properly rested in months."
"Nah, no way."
"No, you haven't."
Shaking her head firmly with a pout, Emily asked sullenly,
"Young master, since August, how many days have you had off where you did absolutely nothing?"
"......"
It was a simple question, but words failed me.
I couldn't remember.
I vividly recalled the frenzy of designing, clashing with the ducal house, all that—but lounging idly in bed? Nothing updated since back home.
"Still... I took a few days off...?"
My uncertain mumble barely qualified as an answer; Emily narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips, and replied,
"Exactly three days. In over 100 days, just three—and one was the day you got out of prison."
"Huh? Only that many? No way—except September, I was home every weekend."
"Should I list everything you did at home on those weekends?"
"Uh... no..."
I pushed back because three days sounded absurd, but Emily glared sharply and retorted.
I deflated instantly, avoiding her gaze and awkwardly rubbing my nape.
I wasn't doing manual labor; she was overreacting.
"Still, it's not like I'm moving my body that much."
"If you call skipping meals on weekends and just sketching or sewing at your desk 'resting,' I'll really get mad."
"......"
Hearing that from my maid felt oddly meta.
If my routine was overwork, wasn't Emily slaving away like an abused servant cleaning up after me?
"Then you too..."
"You sleep late and don't rest in the evenings!"
As her name left my lips, Emily flinched like something boiled over, squeezed her eyes shut, shrieked, then glared and advanced slowly.
"You skip meals at every turn, crash at dawn but demand wake-ups in the morning, I thought you'd rest after prison but no—you went straight back to work! Young master, do you know the weight you lost in jail still hasn't come back? Your eyes are sinking deeper since release!"
"S-Sorry, so calm down..."
"Calm down? As if! You think I don't know what you're scheming now? I want to play dumb, but it's obvious you're overdoing it!"
"Okay, okay, please just calm down, yeah?"
I pulled the unyielding Emily into a hug.
"Eek!"
Her eyes spun wildly; she huffed irritably even in my arms, but soon quieted, save for her ragged breaths.
"Emily, I'm really sorry."
"No need for apologies."
I apologized cautiously to the now-calm Emily, but she pinched my side lightly and grumbled,
"I get you're busy; it's unavoidable."
"Yeah..."
"But young master, don't shoulder everything alone. It's okay to delegate some things."
"I want to, but... unless I trust them, it feels off. Makes me more anxious."
"But you won't know if they're trustworthy unless you try?"
"True, but..."
I knew that; it wasn't ignorance.
But it wasn't easy.
Body rests, mind doesn't—either way, I suffered.
"Young master, did you know?"
As I hesitated with a sullen face, Emily wrapped her arms gently around my waist and spoke softly, sweetly.
"What?"
"When you make clothes, you smile like a total fool."
"What?"
Caught off-guard by the sudden jab, I blinked rapidly and stared at her in disbelief.
Undeterred, Emily beamed and continued,
"Mouth agape round, eyes like slender crescent moons, letting out this sleazy-yet-dopey laugh while your shoulders shake— so silly, but adorable."
"......"
"You look so happy then, like you own the world."
Recalling my foolish grin, she paused, her eyes crinkling softly.
But she soon clouded over, pressing her forehead to my chest, and said,
"Lately, that smile's rare. You seem more focused on the atelier and surroundings than the clothes."
"That's..."
I gave a bitter smile and bit my lip lightly.
Not by choice.
"I know your situation makes it hard to unwind easily—I've watched closely. But how about a little leeway? And trust others a bit?"
"......"
I had no reply.
Yeah?
I'll try?
It's tough?
Nothing fit.
Lips flapping silently, Emily lifted her head from my chest and looked up.
"I want to see you smiling brightly while doing what you love—even if it's a bit pervy."
Ears flaming red, she shyly confessed, then fell quiet.
Whether comforting or encouraging, she patted my back for a while until her sweet scent soaked my clothes.
Finally, she disentangled gently, bid her usual "Good night," and left the room.