Chapter 40
Chapter 40
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: Securing the Building
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Acquiring the building went more smoothly than expected.
Even in the capital where property prices are sky-high, quick-sale listings always pop up. And since I was hunting for places with just the right flaws, they surfaced fast.
So I sent letters to a few folks who'd posted on the bulletin board, and sure enough, the very next evening, letters crammed with heartfelt sob stories came flying in.
Desperate sellers all spin the same yarn anyway, so I skimmed the emotional pitches and zeroed in on the one who'd laid out the terms most honestly.
"Ah, hello there. I'm Benian Harvey, Junior Baron."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm William Henry Howard, Honorary Knight."
The winner was a four-story building on the capital's far outskirts, straddling the line between residential and commercial zones.
It was priced at seventy percent of market value, so I braced for disaster—but it turned out better than I'd hoped.
"As I wrote in the letter, aside from the iffy location, there are no real issues."
A sewer ran nearby, and the corner spot wasn't ideal, but for a factory rather than a shop, it was no big deal.
Well-maintained, right size, no structural problems...
"Looks good."
In my book, it passed with flying colors.
Of course, I'm no expert on buildings, so I shot a glance at Francis, who'd tagged along.
"What do you think?"
"Hmm..."
Francis, who'd been eyeing every nook and cranny with a hawkish gaze, narrowed his eyes at my question, mulled it over, and replied cautiously.
"If we hire a solid manager, it should be fine."
"Hmm~ Yeah?"
We needed a manager anyway, so that was basically a thumbs-up.
I smiled at Sir Benian.
"Seems solid. Let's sign the contract now—that cool with you?"
"Ah, yes, perfect."
I pulled two sheets from my pocket right away.
"Give it a once-over. If it's good, fill the blanks and stamp it."
"Ah, sure..."
Sir Benian took the papers and pored over them like they held the secrets of the universe, reading every line with deliberate care.
His eyes flicked up and down twice before he lowered the sheet a bit and spoke hesitantly.
"Uh... Sir William."
"Yes?"
"The contract's fine, but..."
"Go on."
"I know it's weird coming from the guy selling the place, but..."
"Yeah?"
"If we leave here, we won't have anywhere to stay..."
"Hmm~"
I let out a little groan and scratched my head.
"Well... stay on the top floor for now and manage the building."
"Thank you!"
A few extra lines in the contract, and problem solved—with a human touch.
_
Job ads placed, building secured. All that was left was lining up suppliers for materials.
But that got kicked way down the road.
Can't sign deals without knowing how much I'd need.
And buying now means warehousing it for months—capital storage ain't cheap.
So until things firm up, merchants take a back seat. Other priorities first.
Heck, I hadn't even nailed down concrete goals yet. Spare time goes to that.
Target customers, phase one: nobles.
Commoners outnumber them, sure, but nobles drop cash on new outfits every trend shift, unlike folks debating one purchase a year. Higher market value, hands down.
Unit price?
High-end corset: several gold. Commoner chemise: a few dozen copper. Thousand-fold difference, roughly.
Nobles wear both corsets and chemises.
One noble's whim outpowers a thousand commoners' spending. Nobles first.
Capture the nobles, and selling to commoners later is like breathing while lying down—dead easy. They're idols of aspiration. Everyone secretly wants to emulate the elite.
Especially servants rubbing elbows with them. They've got families too, so rumors of noble undies spread naturally. A few years on, drop a budget version?
Game over.
So how to hook the nobles?
No magic bullet. Plan: flood 'em with variety. Something's bound to stick.
No buzz? Custom work means no toxic stock. Samples aside, nothing wasted. Dead stock? Chuck it, pivot.
Of course, this only works if the debut hits big.
Nobody waits for a flop's follow-up.
Sure, no-name debut gets no love—but I'm not just some nobody anymore.
In design circles, even unknowns have buzz from my recent stunts. Leverage that, land one smash hit, and I'm swimming in lifetime supply of coin.
Perfect timing: I had the ideal opener prepped and ready to unleash.
The bra.
Limited samples, but rave reviews from a few ladies. Perfect showcase for fresh lingerie direction.
"Time for a catalog."
I grabbed a pencil and muttered to myself.
Bras vary wildly by purpose and function.
Like "shorts"—could mean knee-length or butt-grazing hotpants. As long as the ∞-shaped cups cover the chest, it's a "bra." Tons of variants.
Prime split: cup coverage. Full cup: modest design covers like a tank top. Half: covers essentials but teases. Quarter: barely covers—more "support" than hide.
Beyond that, cup shape, strap presence/style, band yes/no/shape, body-shaping level—endless tweaks.
Off-the-rack? Standard molds, mass-produce. But custom for nobles? Prep for finicky specs.
That's how you edge out corsets.
Corsets ain't pricey for nothing.
Full bespoke from top to bottom.
"Hmm..."
To dethrone corsets with bras, hit their weak spots first.
Corsets crush on shaping—bras can't touch that ever.
Ribs warp, organs twist—that good.
But discomfort? Off the charts, bras can't compete there either.
So start simple: prioritize comfort and design over shaping. Nibble their market share bit by bit.
Too complex upfront? Entry barrier. Limit to cup shape/size and straps.
Fabrics: cotton, linen, silk.
Trims: embroidery, lace, ribbons where desired.
"Yeah... that'll do."
I set down the pencil, rummaged the drawer for brush and paints.
_
"What do you think?"
"......"
I sketched a woman's upper body in a half-cup bra, then showed Emily before coloring.
Lips pursed, brow furrowed, she stared hard—ears pinkening. She glanced at me, voice laced with worry.
"Um... Young Master, why show me erotic art out of the blue?"
"What?"
I frowned at the drawing.
Erotic? Sure, skin tones heavy, but everything's covered.
"It's all covered."
"Belly, cleavage—way too exposed."
"Over that...?"
"...Sometimes I can't tell if your sense of decency is loose or not."
"Sigh..."
I slumped, heaving a sigh.
"Meant for the lingerie catalog..."
"Don't they usually just draw the clothes? Full upper body on a woman? Rare."
"Solo garment's confusing. Nude figures pop up in masterpieces—why not this?"
"We'd shrug, but the church hates it."
"Right..."
Damn church.
Not even showing privates, yet they censor everything like busybodies...
"Big problem..."
Mannequin? Still "indecent" solo. Bare garment? Loses the wear feel...
"Church aside, show others—no issue, right?"
"Hmm... not a dealbreaker, but awkward?"
No church selling lingerie.
Awkward showings? Hire female staff.
"Problem solved. Full steam ahead."
"You sure...?"
I nodded.
Law doesn't divide legal from illegal.
No catch, no crime.
"Not caught? Legal."
"......"
Emily's face twisted briefly, then smoothed.
She stepped back, peering out the window with a sour look.
"I'll play dumb. Trouble hits? Your mess alone."
"Harsh..."
"Wise."
"Haha."
I chuckled, setting the paper down.