Chapter 90
Chapter 90
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 90
Chapter Title: The Perfumed Letter
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"...Still the same?"
Princess Elizabeth returned to the workshop after about thirty minutes away, carrying a basket to the break room and back. Shockingly, she was still wearing the exact same outfit she'd left in.
"Did you think I'd just try it on and come out?"
"I have to see it to make any design changes."
"I could check it and tell you what needs fixing."
"Tch..."
This was the problem with clients who were also tailors.
They knew exactly how it looked on them and what adjustments were needed, so they refused to show it.
She'd only shown it once during the basting stage, and after that, she'd kept it hidden away tight. Now it was starting to drive me a little crazy.
"Ugh..."
As I sat there with a slightly sulky expression, the princess approached with narrowed eyes and a twitching smirk.
"No matter how curious you are, just wait until the eve of the event. Seeing it from the best spot will make the anticipation even sweeter, right?"
"True enough."
Still, I figured someone with a heart would at least show me the final product. But no, she wasn't budging an inch.
It was irritating me for no reason.
"If even a tiny bit of it doesn't sit right with me, I'll never make you clothes again."
As I pouted and grumbled lightly, the princess lifted one corner of her mouth like she'd just had a fun idea, raising an eyebrow.
"Then if it does catch your eye, you'll make them for me whenever I want, for life?"
"Take it back."
I shook my head vigorously, scrambling to correct my idiotic slip-up.
The emboldened princess tilted her head up slightly and said,
"See? You think it'll look good even without seeing it. Doesn't that make you even more excited?"
"......"
I couldn't deny it.
The princess and that dress were a match that couldn't fail.
No way it wouldn't look perfect.
"Anyway, were there any spots that needed fixing?"
"No, none. It seems ready to wear as is."
"Hmm... What about the undergarments or the shoulders?"
"Yes, but more importantly, can I coordinate the gloves myself?"
"Go ahead. I'm not great with gloves anyway."
I wasn't a fan of gloves, so I didn't know much about them.
Unlike legs that needed stockings, I believed arms and hands were most beautiful when the skin itself was revealed.
Because only then could you fully appreciate the delicate movements, the play of muscles and tendons between actions—the subtle beauty that made hands and arms come alive.
Then what's the difference with feet that they need to be hidden?
Feet are the hidden card.
A secret weapon you can't waste on everyday views. Something to reveal only when alone with your beloved. That's why covering them with stockings is best.
Nylon stockings that don't absorb moisture well, trapping the heat until your feet are hot and damp. Tendons bulging with every movement, skin glistening faintly in candlelight.
And finally, those sweat droplets trapped behind the knee, trickling down the thigh.
That sight is most beautiful when it's just for me to see.
The thrill from her willingly showing me something so intimate she wouldn't to others? That's the bonus.
"Heh heh..."
"Your expression right now is a bit... lecherous, Sir."
"Ah, sorry."
My thoughts had run wild and shown on my face.
Embarrassment crept in, my cheeks burning.
"What were you thinking?"
"Nothing much. Anyway, when you wear that dress, no garter belt."
"I get why, but what should I wear on my legs then?"
"Ask Adelaide to make another pair of pantyhose."
"Sounds good."
"Right?"
Unlike a garter belt, where the parts are visible, pantyhose won't show if you hide the waistline well.
Hide the waistline with a corset, and the bathroom hole takes care of the rest.
Perfect plan.
"By the way, Sir, when will you give me that letter? I'm getting anxious thinking you might pretend not to know and let it slide~"
It'd only been a day since the topic came up, but the pressure was intense.
"We talked about it yesterday, and do I really have to hand it over personally? Can't I just mail it?"
"The sooner the better. Isn't it nicer to receive it directly instead of it going through a bunch of people? And we have less than a week left? You're not planning to build up my hopes just to go simple on me, are you?"
"Isn't that just an excuse? You want to drive the point home by receiving it in front of everyone?"
"Of course that's part of it."
"......"
I was floored.
She wasn't even denying it anymore.
No, actually, her brazenness wasn't half bad.
Upfront was better than sneaky.
"You haven't written it yet, have you?"
"No, I have, but..."
As I hemmed and hawed, her sharp gaze pierced me.
I frowned and glanced at the desk drawer.
I had written the letter last night in a half-dazed state, but handing it over in person felt embarrassing...
It wouldn't be so bad if it were a standard letter, but asking someone to be your partner made it weirdly awkward.
"Argh..."
I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled out the envelope from the drawer.
Sure, she was playful, but she wouldn't open it right in front of me, would she?
"Here."
"Oh, my..."
The moment the envelope appeared, she visibly panicked and took a step back.
She asked for it, I gave it—what was with the surprise?
"Did you really think I hadn't written it?"
"N-no, it's not that..."
Her hesitant reach for the letter almost hurt my feelings.
No matter how much I'd shown reluctance, I wasn't trash enough to back out of a done deal...
"Th-thank you."
As I stared at her with genuine hurt, she took the letter with trembling hands, bowed awkwardly with a stiff smile.
She started to tuck it into her bosom, then paused, frowning, and lifted it to her nose to sniff.
"Sir... did you spray perfume on this?"
"Yeah, isn't that how you send letters to a partner?"
"Sir... you're bolder than I thought...?"
Princess Elizabeth flushed slightly and quickly hid the letter in her bosom.
"I'll treasure it."
"Uh... yeah, sure."
She stared blankly into space, mumbling, then returned to her seat.
This nagging unease.
I gave it when she asked, followed the standard format—what was the problem?
"Ugh..."
I leaned back in my chair, tilting my head forward.
The staff, who had been watching with eager interest, hurriedly looked away.
"...?"
What the hell?
I couldn't understand it, and it was frustrating me to death.
Someone explain.
"......" Back at my seat, I pulled out the letter from my bosom again. The soft, warm scent of white sandalwood wafting from the envelope made my already dizzy head stretch even further. I stared at it blankly, replaying what just happened. William, grimacing at the mere mention of the letter. William, frowning like it was a hassle as I pressed him, then suddenly going blank-faced and handing it over casually. William, narrowing his eyes at my fluster like, "What're you doing?" William, nodding coolly even after I caught the perfume scent, face unchanging. I, Elizabeth. For the first time in seventeen years. Felt my head might explode from not understanding a single action of the other person. It was such a stark contrast to the transparent, straightforward William I'd always seen. In those short few minutes, it felt like I'd seen two different Williams. It was so confusing. That expression like he'd die of burden if I got too close. That pale face and trembling lips if I approached even a little. That coward who stepped back for every step I took forward—where did he go? And this man confidently handing over a perfumed letter appears? Revenge for all my teasing? Or had he been pretending to be innocent all along? Or maybe he'd been talking to His Majesty behind my back without me knowing? I had no idea. The more I thought, the hotter my head got. My face burned too; no mirror needed to know it was apple-red. I wanted to tear open the envelope right now. Maybe the contents would give me answers. "Haa... This is annoying..." I sighed deeply, grumbled softly, and tucked the letter away. I was scared of what reaction it might pull from me if I read it now. Really. What was this? I just wanted to see William flustered, but now I was the one squirming. It was unfair. "......" I sneakily glared at William, sitting at his workbench. When did he ditch his coat? In that short time, he was down to just his shirt. His sulky expression, chin propped up—he looked somehow aggrieved and frustrated. Similar to when he didn't get the reactions he expected from others. "No way..." From that look. As much as I wanted to deny it. The most plausible hypothesis came to mind. That wicked man knew nothing. The meaning of asking someone to be your partner in public. The meaning of handing over a letter in front of others. The meaning of a perfumed letter. He was clueless, just following what others do. "Grit..." My molars clenched. At this point, shouldn't he think about it seriously? My pride stung, emotions surging. I etched William's image clearly in my mind and vowed silently. This Founding Day, I'd pierce that infuriating fox-bear somehow.