Chapter 134
Chapter 134
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 134
Chapter Title: Public Release of Designs
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"Hah."
Gazing at the half-filled moon visible through the window, I lightly swirled the glass containing pale brown liquid and ice, chuckling as I spoke.
"Tastes awful..."
My father's advice that a light drink of alcohol helps sort out one's thoughts had intrigued me, so I'd asked for a glass of the whiskey he favored. But it tasted terrible.
The aroma wasn't bad, but it burned, bitter, and spicy.
My tongue and throat felt like they were on fire, and the alcohol scent suddenly rose up...
Maybe it was just my first time, so I mustered my courage and took another sip. The result was the same.
Taste and smell vary from person to person, so it's possible I just didn't like it.
I particularly dislike alcohol, after all.
But Father had poured this into a glass for me, saying it had been aged for 60 years at a certain brewery in the Imperial Capital, that there were only thirty bottles like it in the entire empire, that he wouldn't even give one to an imperial envoy, and that he'd brought it out especially for me. For this foolish son to judge it so harshly felt terribly sorry.
"Haa..."
I sighed and pushed aside the glass, which I'd barely drunk a third of.
The silver lining was its sky-high proof—after just two sips, a pleasant buzz was already rising.
If it didn't even give that buzz despite tasting bad, it would've been awkward for both me and Father in so many ways.
"......"
Having set the glass aside, I sank deep into my chair and gently closed my eyes.
The crickets had mostly vanished with the cold, leaving an awkward silence.
In this perfect environment for deep thought, I posed the first question to myself.
A fundamental, universal, all-encompassing one.
Why.
Why had I started this in the first place?
Why had I set out to make clothes and build recognition?
On a small scale, it was because I hated corsets like hourglasses. On a larger one, I wanted people to wear more diverse clothing.
I wanted to see some bundling up tightly, shyly hiding their skin, while others boldly bared their arms or legs, proudly showing off their beauty.
I wanted to see modest, subdued maid outfits, but also ones with shortened skirts and frilly embellishments that emphasized sexiness.
I wanted women gliding elegantly through ballrooms in dresses, but also ones sharply suited up, exuding an intelligent, no-nonsense charm.
Girls in tank tops with oversized jackets precariously draped over their elbows, giving off a carefree vibe.
Lighthearted combos of short shorts covering half the thigh paired with black stockings.
Gentlemen in Inverness coats with deerstalker hats and sleeveless capes, puffing on pipes.
Girls with flushed noses, ushankas flipped on backward, buried in scarves.
So, was what I was doing now helping lead to that future?
I couldn't say it wasn't helping.
I was putting out clothes different from the norm, after all.
But if asked if it was the optimal, the best, the ideal way... I thought the texture was a bit off.
I wanted diverse clothing, yet I was fixating on our own creations.
Like some guy hoarding knowledge only I know to make a killing.
Making clothing diverse isn't just about increasing the varieties.
Take stockings: preferences split by color, coverage, thickness, material, texture, patterns or plain... endless variations.
Diversity is fulfilled when everyone realizes their ideal stockings.
What about panties?
Many prefer mature allure in see-through ones with ornate embroidery or patterns.
But just as many go for plain white cotton or blue-striped cotton.
For every person loving flashy maturity, there's one cherishing innocent freshness.
I believe humans don't change unless they feel a lack or regret.
That makes sense: backlash against corset oppression birthed loose, androgynous silhouettes.
Wartime shortages allowed women pants.
Rebellion against wartime drabness spawned reinterpretations of 19th-century opulent dresses.
Countless geniuses flaunted their aesthetics along the way.
The key is that filling human voids required those geniuses' efforts.
So, could I fulfill these voids alone?
Could I alone realize ways to highlight countless body types?
No.
The moment my subjectivity dominates, true diversity vanishes.
You need disliked styles to intensely crave and beautify the loved ones.
So, I alone can't fulfill diversity.
Yet I wanted diversity while stubbornly monopolizing.
What a contradiction.
I can't do it alone.
Diversity needs more people's actions, thoughts, desires.
So, how to ignite that?
How to rally others' ideas?
I know the method well.
But I hesitate to commit.
I'm human too; even in abundance, greed rises.
More money, fame, recognition.
I shunned hassle but secretly craved them.
"......"
I picked up the set-aside glass.
Even diluted by melting ice, its scent pleasantly teased my nose.
I poured it straight into my mouth without hesitation.
Cold yet hot, a paradoxical sensation stimulated my mucous membranes, sliding down my throat to my stomach.
"...Kuh-"
A groan burst from pain and bitterness, whiskey-laden breath spilling from my chest.
But that jolt pierced my tangled, stuffy mind like a cool hole, unraveling my woes.
Honor and wealth matter to nobles.
But.
Do they matter to me?
Honor?
His Majesty the Emperor will provide it without my striving.
Money?
Atelier earnings are pocket change compared to my future wealth.
Work till death, maybe 10%.
The atelier didn't need it anymore either.
Customers now came for the "atelier," not "me," and their prestige was rising.
No.
One phrase sufficed.
The Imperial Princess wore a dress from our atelier.
What more explanation needed?
So, it was time to appeal differently.
The leeway of a frontrunner, not a latecomer.
The refined poise of the strong, not the desperate flailing of the weak.
The unflinching confidence of the unique.
_
With my mind sorted, I wanted to implement a way to lighten our burden while realizing my ideals.
But I couldn't ignore the staff running alongside me, so I held off for now.
"I have something to ask everyone—gather in the center, please."
Thus, upon arriving at work, I called the staff together.
Such gatherings were routine, so they assembled casually in the center. But seeing my serious expression as I scanned them from my seat, they glanced nervously and sat one by one, tense.
"So... what's it this time?"
As always, Prince Herbert cautiously broached.
I glanced at him, tapping the table with my fingers before speaking.
"You're all feeling it, right? We've been way too busy lately."
"Yes."
"Busy is good—means lots of work. But carrying this overload long-term isn't healthy."
"Well... it means we're getting attention, so isn't the hardship worth it?"
"Yeah, better than flies buzzing around."
"But we can't serve every customer forever. Stamina and mental limits exist—we can't just sit idle."
"But there's no real solution, right? Selective clientele isn't easy..."
"True."
"...?"
Their faces stiffened as I agreed yet voiced negatives.
Still, my built trust held; they just eyed me like "What're you getting at?" and patiently awaited my words.
"I thought that way until yesterday too. But after hearing things, I realized I was wrong. So I gathered you to check if my revelation holds."
I turned slightly, eyeing Fanny demurely seated beside Elizabeth.
"Fanny."
"Yes?"
"Why did you join our atelier?"
"As I said before, to improve overly restrictive garments."
"Herbert, you?"
"I sympathized with Young Lord Howard's vision and wanted to realize it."
"Adelaide?"
"Seemed like you'd make lots of fun clothes."
"Caterina?"
"Same as Adelaide."
"Mari?"
"Looked like a good job!"
"Walter and Ellen?"
"M-money..."
Minus the pragmatic few, all joined chasing idealistic dreams.
Slightly varied threads, but united in wanting to change current fashions and spread new ones.
That's why we gathered, why I chose them, why we stuck through upheavals.
"Do you think our atelier can achieve what you wanted?"
"That's..."
They started to reply but trailed into murmurs, freezing.
They'd all sensed it deep down.
Our path felt subtly off.
"Hard to say for sure, right?"
"Yes..."
We were sparking change.
But not dramatically.
Despite His Majesty's backing.
Despite the Princess here.
Despite superior skills and unique designs, change crawled.
We succeeded in corset alternatives like girdles, but displacing corsets proved sluggish.
We were few, after all.
Take Princess Fanny's goal.
Even slaving a month, we reached maybe thirty-plus.
Empire's noble and wealthy women? Tens of thousands.
Eradicating all corsets at this pace? Decades.
Sure, other ateliers might eventually make girdles or bras.
But does that fulfill her goal? No.
Girdles are less harmful than corsets but still flawed.
Success there demands the next step.
But when?
Scaling up takes decades unchanged.
"Lately, I've pondered what we want and how to achieve it. I found one answer."
"What is it...?"
"Our goal isn't becoming the top atelier or amassing wealth and fame. We want to lead fashion, spark clothing change—so merely setting the direction suffices."
"Doesn't that require fame and recognition?"
"That phase passed. With the Princess and His Majesty's patronage, why fuss? The empire knows what we do."
"So, what method does Young Lord Howard propose?"
"Equal access for all."
"Pardon?"
I narrowed my eyes, smiling.
"I plan to publicly release every design and pattern our atelier has made—and will make—without hiding a thing."
"...Pardon?"
"Allowing modifications and redistribution too."
"Ha...?"