Chapter 233
Chapter 233
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 233
Chapter Title: Mannequin Defense and Royal Wedding
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As I'd mentioned before, the rewards from the church bring headaches in all sorts of ways.
Just receiving one from the church instantly brands me as an upstanding citizen, and people's attention on me ticks up just a notch.
But that's a problem everyone faces.
For those in business like me, there's one more petty issue: people who previously had zero interest in me start showing up as customers.
This time around, it was especially bad. The sole reason was the church award improving my image for certain folks—folks who were never my customers to begin with.
Devout believers had no reason to look kindly on our atelier, after all.
But now they had an excuse to reevaluate us?
Curiosity kicks in, and they start trickling over one by one.
Absolutely the worst.
I'm no religion hater, by any means.
Religion and its believers provide the impetus for the world to inch toward something more beautiful.
I get that positive function just fine, but the issue is dealing with them as customers—it's almost aggressively undesirable.
Our aesthetics are worlds apart, for starters.
Imagine how a pork specialist feels facing a halal-seeking Muslim customer.
No winning there.
And their attire? No need for me to touch it.
The rules are set in stone—what's there to tweak?
Embracing lots of customers matters, sure, but our atelier's too small to stretch to the extremists.
If we had 1,100 folks working instead of 11, we could handle variety, but right now? I'd lose my core clientele.
Best to avoid them entirely. We never should've crossed paths in the first place, but things spiraled, and now I'm running a halal-certified pork joint of an atelier.
Like claiming you drank but didn't drive—peak nonsense.
And that nonsense got handed to me.
"What do we do about the incoming flock of churchgoers?"
My puny brain could only spit out 'turn away customers,' so I turned to my staff for wisdom.
"Shouldn't the one who caused this take responsibility?"
"Yeah, Howard Earl went and did it, so..."
"I'll cheer you on."
"Go, boss! Fighting!"
But these sharp ones ditched me at light speed.
If my staff traded stocks like this, we'd own the Empire.
"......"
I get their attitude completely.
Not many devout types here.
It's awkward, one consultation turns into hours of dull sermons, and it cramps our tailoring and design work with restrictions.
Burden city.
They wanna dodge me like a grenade with the pin pulled.
But understanding doesn't mean I'm peachy about it.
I got butthurt just as fast as they cut ties.
These bat-like punks dare mock their boss and hit the happiness button?
"Heh heh..."
I rubbed my stiffening nape and let out a hollow chuckle.
Then, with glazed eyes on my staff, I curled my lips into a smirk.
"So, basically, you all think I should handle it myself?"
"Wait, hold on a sec."
"We don't know what, but we messed up."
Sensing something off, the staff tried backpedaling late.
"Nah, no take-backs."
Words once spoken can't be unsaid.
I ignored them, rummaging in my pocket.
"Marie."
"Yes?"
I pulled out three gold coins and tossed them her way.
Marie snatched them mid-air, stacking them on her fluffy front paws, blinking between the coins and me.
"Order a mannequin from the nearby carpenter. Full-body, adult female size."
"Why all of a sudden?"
"To show 'em exactly what we do here."
"...?"
Marie's head tilted sideways.
Elizabeth, catching on, grinned mischievously and shot me a side-eye. Herbert Young Lord and Panny Lady lightly touched their foreheads, eyes closed.
That reaction meant they approved.
"Go get it for now."
"Yep!"
Marie bounded out with a booming reply.
_
"Ordered the mannequin! Ready in two days. Told 'em no need for fine details since it's rush—cool?"
Marie reported back in 30 minutes.
"Yeah, good job. Handled it perfectly without me saying more."
I'd only said mannequin, but she nailed the order smartly. I patted her head, sent her back to her seat, and grabbed a pencil.
"Young Master, what mischief are you plotting now?"
Emily, watching warily, sidled up, unable to hide her unease.
"Nothing big."
"That look says you're up to something."
"What look?"
"You're smiling, but it's creepy."
"Hm~"
Yeah, it was impulsive, so it might look that way.
Plus my track record—fair reason for Emily's jitters.
But this time, I planned something tame. I smiled, pointing to the workshop entrance.
"Just gonna put a little decoration in the hallway."
"Decoration...?"
"Yep. Lets 'em know what we do upfront, so they leave quietly."
Repelling customers? Simple: roll out something that'd make 'em freak.
A cafe sign draws crowds easy, but slap 'Maid' on it? Niche spot for a select few.
Of course, if they're nuts enough to counter with their own turf war out front, it's a staring contest headache—but then I deploy tactical Elizabeth.
Deploy an imperial against citizens? What can they do?
Not revolutionaries.
I'm golden here.
"It won't be weird, right...?"
"Nah. Church even okayed it. Just label it right, no issues."
Bunny girl outfit's fine—they said as long as it's not too blatant.
Just showing what we make, plopped inside the atelier—how to nitpick that?
"Hm... I hope so."
Emily didn't buy it fully, but my confident face made denial tough. She gave an awkward smile and backed off.
Unfair, but results will prove it.
_
The entrance mannequin worked better than imagined.
Those in the know glanced, smirked, and sought tailors. Ignoramuses entered, saw it, and slipped out quiet.
Sure, some vaguely aware types bailed too, dipping daily visitors—but guild referrals cover that, no sweat.
When things quiet down, stash it away.
Interest fades in weeks.
Take new jobs to dilute church buzz, wrap it faster.
So I spread light promo to bigwigs around.
Past business card swaps.
Mom and Dad's contacts.
"Um, Crown Princess Your Highness, know anyone needing a tailor?"
"Tailor?"
And our periodic meetups with Crown Princess Your Highness.
Hipped everyone friendly to me.
Not expecting much.
Bored sitting idle; hook one, perfect. Casual pitch.
"Thinking of going exclusive for someone?"
"Nah, commissions dried up lately, scouting folks to trust us with work."
"Hmm~ I see. Design commissions too?"
Luck struck—Her Highness perked up.
"Possible."
"Might take a month minimum. Tough gig—sure you can?"
"No problem."
Design only, not sewing—what's hard?
"Great. Ye Princess's sister was struggling with this. Lucky break."
She smiled, adding that tidbit.
"Ye Princess's sister, you say?"
"Yes."
"Oh..."
"Handling her commissions back-to-back might burden, but this one's your win—I guarantee."
"Really?"
Hesitation hit knowing the mark; Her Highness sweetened the pot.
Her persuasion push meant she loved that bunny girl I made last time.
"Ugh... What dress woes does Her Majesty have?"
"Nothing major—wedding dress for our Alexandrine."
"Ah, ri—...?"
Speech stalled, brain froze.
"Maker's lined up, but designs clash big-time."
I blinked, scratched head, snapped to, gulped, and pried cautiously.
"I... have to design... whose what...?"
"Listen close this time."
"Yes."
"Wedding dress design for adorable niece Alexandrine of Ye Princess."
"Yes."
"Entrusting it to you."
"......"
Whoa, jackpot.