Chapter 244
Chapter 244
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 244
Chapter Title: ...Has Been Returned
“While I thought you were up to something strange all this time, it turns out it was because of this.”
After finishing my audience with His Majesty, as I strolled down the corridor, Elizabeth—who had been staring right at me from inside the audience chamber, her face screaming that she had a ton to say—finally spoke up.
“Yeah, we all busted our asses together, but I was the only one raking in all the goodies. Felt kinda bad about that.”
“That’s true, but...”
Elizabeth trailed off with a nod, her lips pursing in a slight pout that screamed mild disappointment.
“You should’ve come to me first, before Mother. I could’ve handled something like that, you know.”
She seemed a little miffed that I’d bypassed her entirely and gone straight to His Majesty, but I just gave a wry smile and lightly scratched the back of my head.
“It’s... kinda a pride thing.”
I might be a pretty petty bastard, but hey, I’m still a guy. I’ve got at least a pea-sized chunk of pride rattling around inside me.
Which made it awkward as hell to ask my subordinate-slash-fiancée-to-be for a handout like that.
“But isn’t running to your future mother-in-law a pride issue too?”
“His Majesty’s... different.”
There’s a world of difference between someone you desperately want to impress and someone you couldn’t care less about dazzling.
Hell, right now His Majesty felt less like my future mother-in-law and more like a generous patron tossing gold coins at a performing clown.
So it wasn’t so much begging for favors as flipping somersaults and demanding an entrance fee.
“Tch...”
Elizabeth crossed her arms, huffing out a deflated laugh like she wasn’t buying it.
A flicker of sulkiness mixed into her irritation—she was definitely pissed.
“Sorry.”
Times like this, best for my health to just dive in headfirst, no questions asked.
Even the chillest folks nurse those little grudges longer than you’d think.
“I’m not mad.”
“Nah, I just screwed up, so I’m sorry. When stuff happens, you gotta tell the people closest to you first, right?”
“......”
The tension in Elizabeth’s furrowed brow and stiff eyebrows eased just a touch.
“Fine, as long as you get it. Next time something like this comes up, you tell me first, then go see Mother.”
“Yeah, next time I’ll loop you in first, promise.”
Playing it cool like she was just dishing out advice, Elizabeth took the lead, striding half a step ahead down the corridor.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
For two straight months, I’d been grinding away to pin some shiny hats on my crew.
Finally, I’d scored a handful of titles from His Majesty that I could hand out at my discretion, thinking my ordeal was over.
But nope—the real ambush was just getting started.
“I won’t accept it.”
“Me neither.”
“Titles like that are just empty pomp. Meaningless.”
“???”
Of all things, refusing titles? Never saw that coming.
And not just any refusal—this was ironclad, zero wiggle room. Worse, it was Young Lord Herbert, Lady Fanny, and Adelaide doing the refusing, which left me seriously screwed.
Sure, we all pulled our weight, but if we’re ranking top contributors? Elizabeth and these three are locks for the podium.
If the MVPs bail, it puts everyone else in an awkward spot.
Especially sharp-eyed types like Walter or Ellen—they might follow suit and pass too.
Those two soak up influence from this trio like they’re apprentices.
Which means half the crew’s opting out?
“Aigoo...”
I clutched my head lightly and tilted my neck back.
Yeah, stupid me for assuming these rebel souls would just take it lying down.
Headache city, but I can’t force it down their throats.
So, step one: hear ‘em out.
“Why the hell not?”
“We’ve got way too many gaps to be accepting anything yet.”
I tossed the question out with a weary look, and Young Lord Herbert jumped right in like he’d been rehearsing.
I locked eyes, silently urging him to spill, and he shrugged before rambling on.
“Everything we’ve done so far went down under your lead, Lord Howard. Designs, directions, themes... all of it. We barely have any originals where we drove the bus.”
“You still nailed your roles. Atelier’s humming because of it.”
“No.”
Lady Fanny cut in this time, picking up the thread.
“‘Roles’ is putting it mildly. You think you couldn’t have pulled it off without us? Might’ve taken longer, but you’d have managed just fine.”
“But the results are still there.”
“Which is exactly what we’re saying—the results aren’t that big a deal.”
“Hmm... not really?”
“Heh~ Nope.”
Lady Fanny shook her head with a mocking chuckle.
“Sure, for basic laborers. But we’re in on cutting and design. Even so, our originality’s pathetic, and without your halo effect, we couldn’t even tweak jack shit without tanking our rep.”
“Snagging titles now? Everyone outside the atelier will just whisper we’re riding your favoritism coattails.”
“Hmm...”
Of course it’s pride and face. Classic.
Nothing I can do about that.
Can’t exactly tell them to suck it up if it stresses ‘em out...
“So, what benchmark do you hit before you’d accept?”
“More time. It’s only been a year.”
“And if we’re doing this, we want it on our own designs. This batch? You fetched ‘em, not us.”
“Yeah... gotcha.”
Just a year in—the oldest is barely early twenties. As tailors, they’re fresh-faced rookies kicking off solo careers.
Slapping baronet on ‘em now? Bad optics.
“Fair enough. I rushed it.”
Got too wrapped up in my own yardstick.
“Still, take the knighthood at least. Gotta make it clear I’ve got my eye on you.”
“That much we can swing.”
I conceded a step, but they’d still walk away with something visible. Compromise achieved.
Noble duo sorted, I shifted to Adelaide, who’d been looming over us, silently clocking the whole exchange.
“So, Adelaide—what’s your beef?”
Atelier fame rankings: Elizabeth numero uno, Caterina dos, then me and Adelaide tied for tres.
Why tie? Different flavors.
Adelaide’s the tech wizard; I’m the design guy.
Customers might not stan her, but industry pros crown her skills supreme—no room for ‘nepo baby’ gripes.
“Well...”
Adelaide grinned, eyes narrowing slyly.
I braced, heart pounding for her verdict.
Unhappy no-show? Atelier panic mode.
“The other side’s more fun.”
“...?”
“You might not know, William, but I get poached constantly.”
“No kidding?”
“Bad weeks, it’s weekly—letters, visitors. Dialed back lately ‘cause you shot up so high.”
“Huh...”
News to me.
Figured it’d hit Fanny or Herbert first, not her.
“No creepy shit?”
“Your rising star kept that at bay, thankfully.”
“Phew.”
“Funny part? They all trot out the same pitch: better pay, fame boosts, prime workspaces.”
“Better than here?”
I shot Elizabeth a side-eye, brow furrowing at the kicker.
Better than imperial hookup? In this world?
“Any of ‘em His Majesty? Or Crown Princess?”
“Haha~ If the Emperor showed? I’d be gone. Infinite shots, way beyond you, William?”
“Gutsy mofos...”
Dangling ‘better’ without Emperor or Crown Princess cred? Ballsy.
I’d bet against anyone but straight imperial tailors, even sans Elizabeth.
“But... fun how?”
“Knight me now, they bail. How many bosses hand titles to seamstresses?”
“Sounds like a win. Pesky buzzkills gone.”
“Nah—nothing beats desperate suckers clutching false hope. Me solo-holdout? They’ll go feral.”
“......”
Clam-up city.
Psycho..., legit psycho...
Sadist vibes screaming ‘knife in the dark’ any day now.
Fun for her, sure—but staff rumors? Disaster.
Bully vibes or favoritism BS spreads? Inquisition 2: Electric Boogaloo.
Me, the boss? Prime defendant.
“Could splash back on others. Just take it quietly.”
“Fine. Shame, though.”
No dice on collateral damage dodge.
She got it, shrugged, and nodded no fuss.
Loudest trio squared away...
“Alright...”
I scanned the rest of the crew.
Blank stares, blinking—no red flags.
“Anyone else dead-set against for other reasons?”
Didn’t figure, but checked for flip-floppers.
“Nah?”
“We’ll take ‘em—but perks?”
“W-Wages... u-up too...?”
“Pay bumps, knight intros, lord it over snooty commoners.”
“Ooh.”
“Th-Thank you...!”
“Then we’re good.”
Others? Simple souls, snapped it up gripe-free.
Caterina especially lit up at that last bit, beaming like a kid.
“Swords and patents pending—formal handover in a few days.”
“Yes.”
“Got it.”
Nods all around, unanimous.
“Phew...”
Truly done.
No more external headaches for a beat.
Time to chill and prep the next line...
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