Chapter 42
Chapter 42
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Recruitment Rush
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Triangle panties—or briefs, as they're called—I've got nothing much to say about them.
First off, they're just not my taste. Personally, I prefer thongs over briefs.
That's because I'm the one doing the looking, after all. Something bulky that covers a wide area doesn't do it for me; I like the precarious allure of barely concealing just the essentials.
Second reason: even if I made them, no one could wear them.
The clothing here is so ridiculously complicated that nobles need attendants to help them use the bathroom during parties. How the hell are you supposed to manage panties in that setup?
If I invested a few years building up to it, maybe. But right now, these are clothes only a few dozen maids around here could wear.
A crotchless version might generate a tiny bit of demand, but it's too extreme for public release in broad daylight—it's not like we're peddling this in the shadows.
I want to tightrope along the razor-thin line between legal and illegal, not become some blatant lawbreaker.
So this time, I approached it less like making clothes and more like crafting embroidered artwork.
I finished the important areas with thick fabric, then adorned the rest with sheer lace and intricate embroidery to make them as lavish as possible.
I even used multicolored threads to match the true hues of the embroidered flowers.
Hands idle? Make some underwear. Otherwise, engrave the catalog or write Mother another letter. Before I knew it, the third Monday of July had arrived.
I packed the mannequin, stuffed my bag with questionnaires and paper, and headed to the coffee house that morning.
Stepping down from the carriage, I peered through the window to gauge the turnout.
I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I was seeing things.
The seats were packed from the get-go, with people crammed around tables and even lining the walls.
I'd expected a big crowd, sure. The problem was the gender ratio.
"Emily."
"Yes."
"Am I seeing this straight?"
"You are."
I pointed at the coffee house swarming with women.
"That sea of women is reality? Nine out of ten are ladies?"
"That's how it looks to me, too."
"Ha... this is no joke."
I let out a hollow laugh, muttering under my breath.
I'd figured more women than men, of course.
When you think about who’s familiar with sewing, women win hands down.
Basic requirement: embroidery skills. Lack those, and you're out.
Still, I'd pegged it at maybe 7:3 at worst.
Once it shifts from hobby to profession, plenty of men get involved.
"Young Master, did you put 'fiancé required' in the ad or something?"
"Are you nuts?"
"Then why's it all women? And mostly young ladies, at that."
"Beats me."
That was the million-gold question—for me, anyway.
I could find out by going in and asking, but the stinging glances peeking my way through the window were too much.
Hyena-like eyes ready to devour me the moment I stepped inside.
"I don't wanna go in. Can I bail?"
"Young Master, you sure you wanna face those frenzied ladies? What if one of them's a mana awakener...?"
"Oof."
Getting dragged off like a child by delicate young ladies? Hard pass.
And it'd fuel all those crazy rumors swirling around me.
You know, headlines like 'Honorary Knight in Broad-Daylight Love Brawl in the Capital.'
"Let's go, Charles. Hold onto the mannequin for me."
"Yes, sir."
I handed the mannequin to Charles, steeled myself, and stepped into the coffee house.
Pushing open the classy wooden door reserved for nobles, the bell jingled, drawing every eye in the place straight to me and Emily.
There'd been some chatter before I opened the door. Now? Dead silence, like you could hear a pin drop.
"Haha..."
My throat tightened, but I forced a calm smile and scanned the room.
Hundreds of eyes gleaming with curiosity and anticipation fixed on one spot—it was downright eerie.
Stand still too long, and they'd swarm me first. So I kept my composure and moved to the center.
"Pleased to meet you all. I'm Honorary Knight William Henry Howard."
- Clap clap clap!
The moment I reached the center and gave a simple greeting with a slight bow, light applause erupted from all corners, welcoming me warmly.
As the clapping died down, I straightened up and continued.
"I assume you're all here because of the job ad I placed in the paper. Before we get into details, let me cover a few ground rules."
The once-relaxed gazes sharpened. Everyone leaned in, ears perked, not wanting to miss a word.
"Today, I'm planning to hire about three people to work with me. If things take off, I might hire more later, but today? Strictly three. If your vision doesn't align with mine or your skills are iffy, I'll cut you without mercy."
I beckoned to Charles, who was standing by the door with the mannequin.
He scurried over, set it on the table beside me, and vanished into the corner.
"Gasp..."
"Oh my god..."
"Just like in the paper..."
A brief stir as people eyed the mannequin dressed in the bra and panties. But with my lips sealed and stance firm, they quieted down fast and refocused.
The reaction was milder than expected.
Less shock, more like quiet satisfaction at confirmation.
It threw me off.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
Shoving down my unease—like I'd botched it from the start—I pressed on.
"This is the kind of clothing I'll be making: stuff that shatters old social norms, chasing bold new ideas and change.
Until it stabilizes, expect grueling schedules. Working after sunset? Before dawn? Possible. And the pay? It won't satisfy—not even close. It'll suck.
Plus, you'll face sharp glares and criticism from people who hate what I'm doing. Fail, and this could tag along like a lifelong scarlet letter."
I paused my monologue, slowly scanning the room.
A handful frowned with unease, but most listened calmly.
"That's why I want people who can tough it out for years. If the uncertainties worry you or you don't have your family's blessing, I'm not taking you. Head out now."
I shut my mouth and waited a few seconds.
Sure enough, a few trickled out. Then more should follow like an ebbing tide...
Five left, and minutes passed with no one else budging.
"Everyone who’s leaving gone?"
"......"
Silence. They just watched me quietly.
"Last call—anyone else heading out?"
"Looks like it. Let's get started."
Hoping a few more would bail, I prodded again. But a noble lady in a wide-brimmed hat, sipping tea haughtily, spoke for the crowd.
I clung to the slim hope it was just her.
"We're not going anywhere."
"She's right."
Others nodded agreement, waiting for my next words.
Roughly a hundred people. Servants aside, still a ton.
This many with family approval, embracing low pay and overtime? Insane.
"Understood..."
I nodded, face numb.
"In ten minutes, we'll start one-on-one talks."
_
Declaring a brief prep time, I retreated to the corner and whispered shakily to Emily, who stood with Charles.
"What do I do?"
"Asking me won't help. I can only awkward-smile."
"Yeah, figured..."
Not like I expected a miracle fix.
Just dreaded interviewing nearly a hundred one by one.
Especially with them yelling weird stuff like salmon upstream, all fanatic.
"Sigh... We'll use a private room for interviews, table out front as waiting area. Charles, guard the entrance—ring the bell three times, send in the closest folks first. Emily, assist me."
"Yes."
"Got it."
No dodging the hassle out of fear. Grimacing like death, I gave orders.
They nodded and hauled our stuff into the private room.
"Haa..."
I watched them bustle, sighing deeply.
Haven't felt this drained without lifting a finger in ages.
"Emily, shop owner still around?"
"Yeah, he's been rushing drinks and pastries."
"Okay."
I nodded and headed to the counter.
First time sugar-laden black tea and cookies sounded this good.