Chapter 166
Chapter 166
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 166
Chapter Title: New Year's Lull
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New Year.
The moment a new year arrives, a fresh spirit settles in—people want to start anew with renewed resolve, swapping out all sorts of things for shiny new ones.
That's why many assume ateliers get slammed during this time, but that's only half true.
Some do get busy, while others actually find themselves with plenty of free time.
For the record, we're in the latter group.
You might wonder why that is, but there are two main reasons: first, aside from New Year's, there's nothing special going on in January or February; second, April through June is wedding season.
No events in the chilly months of January and February, but once winter passes and spring blooms, weddings come one after another.
Outfits differ greatly between winter and spring, so making new clothes just for the event-less January-February period is a waste—plus, winter prep is a hassle with so much to handle.
Naturally, it makes more sense to skip January-February and prepare outfits for the string of spring weddings and betrothal ceremonies once the weather warms up. Practical and efficient.
That said, we're short-staffed, so we're not taking orders for high-end pieces like wedding dresses yet.
Most orders flood in that direction, so skipping them means no work, right?
We're not entirely missing out on the wedding boom, though— we get orders for bridal stockings or "first moment" undergarments. But those don't take much effort if you're decent at it.
How little? I could handle two or three a day solo. Can't get busy even if I tried.
That's why, right after Holy Night, the atelier turned eerily peaceful.
How peaceful?
"Should I challenge underwear designs first, or dresses?"
"Dresses seem like the better bet, don't they?"
Herbert Young Lord and Panny Lady now had time to tinker with personal designs.
"Lady Elizabeth... c-could I ask one question...?"
"Of course, go ahead."
Elin could roam around picking up tricks and tips from the other tailors.
"That spot's off— a bit lower."
"Ah..."
Walter and Adelaide were embroidering patterns in midair with spider silk, honing some bizarre "handcraft enhancement" technique.
"Marie, your tail's got a scorch mark."
"Eek! Nooo! My glossy tail fur!"
"It's nicely golden-brown now..."
"Hiiing..."
Marie and Caterina were sprawled out by the stove, soaking up the warmth.
"Haha."
"Young Master."
I chuckled at Marie sniffling over the black scorch in the middle of her bright yellow tail fur when Emily approached, basket brimming with letters.
Following her hands, letters piled neatly on my desk.
You might think "what's with the sudden mail flood?" but this was the fruit of seeds I'd sown a month ago—to bolster our sorely lacking patternmakers relative to our sewing capacity.
About thirty letters.
They arrived right on cue during our downtime, though I hadn't timed it that precisely.
Just a lucky coincidence: the chaos of peak season passed, and now we had breathing room to train newbies.
Lately, the world had been screwing me over a bit, so I felt a tiny spark of gratitude for this carrot after the stick—a cosmic pat on the back.
Better than nothing.
"Hmm..."
Still, one gripe lingered.
Even with over a month's lead time, the number was disappointingly low.
A bit embarrassing to admit, but...
Am I not kinda famous?
Only thirty applicants for my apprenticeship?
Something's off. I tilted my head and eyed Emily.
"Emily, is this all of them? You didn't split the load?"
"Yes, that's everything. I checked the mailbox and even the ground around it thoroughly."
"Hmm..."
Sure, some might show up unannounced, bumping it to around forty maybe.
"Fewer than expected...?"
Why?
I'd set pretty lenient requirements to draw a crowd.
And disqualifiers were generous to avoid scaring folks off preemptively.
I figured we'd get at least as many as pre-atelier recruitment— but not even a quarter.
Was the ad wording weird?
Nah, Elizabeth vetted it—no issues there. Am I overestimating my fame?
Makes sense. Expecting that initial luck to keep rolling is silly.
Back then, curiosity peaked; now that I've shown my hand, interest cooled.
These days, my baron overnight success story overshadows my designer creds anyway...
"Tch..."
I smacked my lips in regret and reached for the letters.
Can't conjure applicants from thin air, so pick the best from what's here.
Tweak and repost the ad if short; worst case, wheedle the guild a bit.
I've invested in them and thrown work their way—time to cash in.
_
It took exactly two hours and thirty-five minutes to read all thirty-two letters cover to cover.
Would've been messier with pros needing credential checks, but apprenticeships meant spotless newbie resumes: age, location, aspirations, and any red flags from the letter sufficed. Quick work.
The sticking point? Way too many nobles.
Nine in ten from viscount or baron families.
Fine if their houses had tailoring ties, but most had zero connection—suspicious.
Our staff's backgrounds are a wild mix too, but early days were near 1:1 noble-commoner. Big shift now.
Plus, the desperate types who came when I had zilch feel different from these post-fame seekers.
This noble skew screams "hoping for scraps from me or Elizabeth."
"Hmm~ Tricky..."
Even charitably, hiring folks with connections feels iffy.
This is for the atelier, not a social club.
Interviews could filter, but they're a pain with types like this.
Bound to pull shady stunts to get in; if rejected, they'll gripe and spread nonsense.
Even if most are fine, one or two bad apples in thirty is headache city.
"No choice."
Scrap the "interview all clean resumes" plan.
Cut by background instead.
Origin bias is hiring corruption, but in this quasi-medieval world? Please.
The noblest "magic" here is selling offices.
Coin a post, emperor smiles and says, "This'll benefit your life," and poof—funds and manpower.
His Majesty hates it here, but it's standard everywhere: conjure gold via intangible posts, select talent tax-free. Beautiful custom.
Hiring scandals? Non-issue when that's legal norm.
"Elizabeth."
I grabbed the letter stack and headed her way.
"Yeah, what's up?"
"Among these senders, anyone you think we should nix?"
"Let me see."
I handed over the bundle.
Elizabeth took them, scrutinizing names and houses.
Flip, flip, pull one, flip, flip—frown and yank another.
After careful culling, she thrust four at me.
"Filter these four no matter what."
"Got it. Why?"
"These two: parents tried bribing me. These two: heavy Devonshire Ducal House influence—basically their lackeys. Who knows what they'd pull."
"I see~"
I hummed softly, took the four, and scrawled big X's on the backs.
Regretful for family ties, but generic nobles are one thing—Devonshire's a hard no.
Dealt with enough grief prepping for audits and admin meddling from the old duke.
"Rest okay? Or just unfamiliar?"
"Unfamiliar. No big names—check 'em yourself."
Wished she'd culled more, but 10% axed is a win.
Especially confirmed landmines.
"Thanks, that's plenty."
"Hehe~ Glad I helped."
I smiled my thanks and returned to my seat.
Pen in hand, I drafted interview invites for passers and polite rejections for the rest.
"Interviews will shake out any dust left on these."
Few, but bound to be one decent pick at least.