The Misfortune of a Priceless Talent
Andrea looked up with half-closed, exhausted eyes. Upon recognizing Madame, they flinched, their eyes widening in an instant. "M-Madame...!" Fear pooled in their eyes.
I already knew what kind of treatment Andrea usually endured. Absurd design demands, impossible deadlines with zero breathing room—the list of unfair expectations went on and on. The boutique, Frida, was what people back home would call a "shitty startup"... no, a flat-out black company.
"How is the piece you're working on coming along?" Madame asked.
"I'm... I'm putting the finishing touches on it now. It should be finished by tomorrow..." Andrea murmured.
"Then put that aside for now and start on the Lady's dress."
Andrea shrank back, casting a tentative glance up at Madame. "The Lady's dress... right away...?"
Madame nodded. "Yes. It is the gown the Lady will wear to the imperial gala. You have one month. Her measurements, rough sketches, and blueprints are all here. Use them as your base."
I stole a glance at the blueprints. Though I knew next to nothing about dressmaking, even I could tell this was absurd. This world didn't have high-tech machinery to streamline the process. Completing this in a single month was an impossible task.
Even a modern wedding dress takes anywhere from four to twelve weeks to make...
To force them to jump straight into crafting such an intricate, lavish gown right after finishing their current project? Unless Andrea was made of steel, it was physically impossible.
"Looking at... looking at these blueprints, I don't think it can be done in four weeks..."
"Are you suggesting we delay the Lady's gown? The imperial gala is in exactly one month!"
Andrea let out a faint, helpless whimper. "Ah, but..."
"I don't care if it's impossible. Make it happen."
"Yes, Madame..."
Andrea slumped, staring blankly at the blueprints. Make it happen, indeed. This place really was the epitome of an exploitative black company.
Even with most of her face concealed behind her fan, Franche couldn't hide her disgust. It radiated clearly from her cold eyes and furrowed brow.
"What on earth is this place?" Kazar whispered.
"A den of exploitation."
"Even the Seirel Barony wasn't this bad," Kazar muttered, her face contorted in sheer disgust.
The Seirel Barony had been a miserable place to live, but Frida's sweatshop was on a whole other level of cruelty.
"When do you plan to begin?" Franche asked.
"I-I will begin shortly, Lady..." Andrea stammered.
"Am I expected to stand here and wait?"
"I-I apologize! Please, just a moment..."
Franche narrowed her eyes, shifting her gaze between Madame and Andrea. Hey, I know we're in front of Madame, but you don't have to play the villain quite so convincingly.
Madame rubbed her hands together, practically groveling before Franche. "My deepest apologies, Lady Franche. I assure you, it will be completed within the deadline by any means necessary, so please do not worry..."
Snap! Franche snapped her fan shut, then flicked it open again. "No matter. I shall observe the crafting process for a short while before I depart."
Andrea gathered the necessary fabrics and immediately set to work. The moment they held the shears, the dull, exhausted look vanished from their eyes, replaced by a brilliant, focused spark. Andrea was always at their truest self when creating garments. It was a tragedy that a genius like them was trapped in a miserable sweatshop like Frida.
I need to scout them for France Corporation as soon as possible.
Andrea's craftsmanship was nothing short of breathtaking. Their needle moved with dizzying speed and mesmerizing grace. In their hands, the needle was a painter's brush, a maestro's baton. Every movement was precise, utilizing advanced techniques with effortless ease.
Man, the sewing I learned back in middle school home ec was literal child's play compared to this.
If a complete layman like me was this captivated, actual professionals would probably be weeping. They weren't hailed as a priceless, once-in-a-generation talent for nothing.
"That's the person who will make our fashion empire a reality," I whispered to Franche.
"I can see that. Even to my eyes, their skill is undeniable."
Franche's eyes shone with fascination. She couldn't tear her gaze away from Andrea, watching them as if she were witnessing magic for the very first time.
"Since they've only just begun, there isn't much to see yet, Lady Franche..." Madame said, offering a sycophantic smile.
"It matters not. I was merely curious to see how the magic happens."
"Haha, indeed. I am glad to hear that..."
Madame kept casting nervous glances our way, clearly terrified that this grim sweatshop might offend the young noblewoman's sensibilities.
"They're incredible," Kazar whispered from behind me. "I want them to make my dresses too."
"Don't worry, they will. Eventually."
"Really? I'm going to hold you to that!"
"Sure."
Leaving Kazar to her giddy grin, I turned my attention back to Andrea. How much time passed? I watched, utterly spellbound, until I finally shook my head to snap myself out of the trance.
"Do you have a spell that can memorize this location?" I whispered to Kazar.
"Yes, I've already marked it. When we return, we can just follow the residual trace of my mana."
Well, look at that. A magical GPS. I had only asked on a whim, but I hadn't expected her to actually have a spell for it. Then again, this was exactly why I'd recruited her in the first place.
"That's a relief. The path here was so winding, I was worried I'd forget it."
"I figured. The layout is a maze, so I cast the spell the moment we arrived."
Damn, you are incredibly competent. Once France Corporation officially launched, Franche would be the Chairwoman, I'd be the CEO, and Kazar was definitely getting promoted to Chief Operating Officer. Having accomplished our goal here, I leaned in and whispered to Franche.
"My Lady, we have what we came for. We can depart now."
"Very well. You shall explain the details of your plan once we return."
"Of course."
"I believe I have seen enough," Franche announced to Madame. "It is reassuring to know my gown is in the hands of such a master artisan."
"Isn't it? They are the pride of Frida. Every single one of our bespoke gowns is crafted by their hands."
Why are you bragging like it's your own achievement? She was literally just a parasite running a monopoly and abusing her workers.
"Let us depart, then."
"Right away, Lady Franche!"
Madame's face lit up with relief the moment we turned to leave. She had clearly been desperate to get us out of there. We exited the wooden sweatshop and boarded the carriage bound for the Imperial Capital.
Once we were settled, Madame asked tentatively, "How did you find the demonstration, Lady Franche...?"
"Impressive. With talent like that, it is no wonder Frida has become the largest boutique in the Empire."
"Y-Yes, precisely! Hahaha..."
Madame let out a quiet, trembling sigh of relief, clearly relieved that we hadn't found any fault with her operations. Then, Franche spoke up again.
"Tell me, are you compensating those workers properly? The labor intensity seemed rather extreme."
"P-Pardon?"
"I am asking if they are being paid a fair wage."
Madame forced an awkward, strained smile. "Of course, my Lady! We even provide generous performance-based bonuses!"
A blatant lie, of course. If my memory served me right, those workers weren't even receiving a basic minimum wage. One might wonder why they didn't just find other jobs, but the harsh reality was that there were no other employers willing to take them in. As for Andrea, they simply endured it because of their pure, obsessive love for making clothes.
"Very well," Franche said. "Thank you for the demonstration. I shall expect great things from my gown."
"Oh, but of course! We will craft a masterpiece fit only for you, Lady Franche!"
"I shall hold you to that."
Franche turned to look out the window, her expression dark and troubled. Kazar sat beside her, looking equally grim.
I'd better speed up our timeline.
I stared out the window, a bitter taste in my mouth. In stark contrast to the dim, suffocating atmosphere of the sweatshop we had just left, the sky was a brilliant, mocking blue, and the weather was perfectly clear.
After parting ways with Madame, we took the ducal carriage out of the Imperial Capital and gathered at Kazar's house.
"...But why are we holding our secret meeting at my house?" Kazar grumbled.
"We can hardly bring a dark mage into the Duke's estate, can we?"
"..."
Still looking mildly annoyed, Kazar went to brew some tea. Franche and I sat at the cluttered table she usually used for her magical research, waiting patiently.
"Here you go..." Kazar sighed, setting down the cups.
"Thank you."
"The aroma is lovely."
Franche took a delicate sip, her pinky finger elegantly raised. Ah, the classic noble lady etiquette you only ever see in history books and games.
Kazar leaned against the table, propping herself up with her hands. "So, what's the plan?"
"We're going to recruit those workers for our own boutique."
"Can we actually handle that? There were a lot of people in that workshop."
"It won't be an issue. I've already made the necessary arrangements."
Franche smirked. "You mean the matter you discussed with Seldas?"
"Exactly. Knowing him, he's probably already wrapped up his end of the deal."
"Then all that is left is for us to make our move."
First, I needed to contact Seldas to get the details on the location he secured. Even if we staged a prison break for those workers, we couldn't just dump them on the streets. Constructing a new facility from scratch would take too long...
Man, starting a business really requires a ridiculous amount of planning.
As I sat lost in thought, tapping my fingers against the wooden table, Kazar spoke up. "So, what's the first step?"
"First, we need to acquire the land to house them."
Franche rested her chin in her hand. "Ah, so it is finally time to tap into the funds allocated to me by the ducal house."
"How much do we have at our disposal?"
"More than enough. Launching the business won't be an issue."
She had spent five hundred million gold just to purchase me, and she still had that much left over? Just how massive was the Decartes family's wealth?
"Then the priority is contacting Seldas to secure the land, and then we break them out."
"Why don't we leave the land acquisition and construction to Seldas, and focus on rescuing the workers first?" Franche suggested.
Oh, that's actually a solid idea. Franche's expression softened into a bitter smile as she continued, "That workshop was a nightmare. I want to get those people out of there as quickly as possible."
"Understood. In that case, we'll stage the rescue tonight."
"W-Wait a minute!" Kazar interjected, waving her hands frantically. "Did you see how many people were in there? We'd need to secure dozens of carriages just to transport them, not to mention finding a place for them to sleep!"
She had a point. There were nearly a hundred workers in that sweatshop. We could secure carriages through Seldas's network, but as for their temporary housing...
"You need not worry about their lodging," Franche said smoothly. "A building large enough to house them all has already been prepared."
"Wait, just how rich are you...?" Kazar gaped.
"Well, my father was quite generous with my allowance, but I've also accumulated quite a collection of jewels and accessories over the years. Think of it as a runaway fund I've been building up."
She actually planned that far ahead? She had mentioned wanting to flee the ducal house before, but she must have been truly desperate to have amassed an entire runaway fund.
"Then I'll send word to Seldas regarding what we need. Since he runs the underworld's largest information guild, he should be able to arrange the logistics easily. The carriage drivers he hires will also keep their mouths shut."
Both women nodded in agreement. The foundation of the plan was set. I turned my gaze back to Franche.
"Furthermore, we must ensure that your presence is deeply imprinted on them during this operation, My Lady."
"What do you mean by that?"
"When Kazar and I raid the workshop tonight, you must accompany us and show yourself to the workers."
"And what purpose does that serve?"
A slow smirk spread across my lips. "It's to establish your authority as their savior and new employer. We want them to think, 'This noble lady rescued us. If we work for her, we'll receive far better wages and work in a much better environment.'"
"Ah, I see," Franche murmured, nodding in understanding. "A brilliant strategy. So, when do we strike?"
"Tomorrow at dawn."
"Tomorrow at dawn? I know I said I wanted to rescue them quickly, but isn't that a bit too rushed?"
Kazar chimed in with her own doubts. "Won't it look incredibly suspicious if the workshop is raided immediately after our visit? Even if we manage to pull it off, Madame is bound to suspect us once our new products hit the market..."
I had already anticipated that concern. "Don't worry about that," I replied smoothly. "Frida will be utterly ruined long before they ever have a chance to point fingers at us."
Both Franche and Kazar tilted their heads in confusion. I let out a soft chuckle. There was no need to waste time playing fair and competing with an established monopoly.
"France Corporation is going to completely swallow Frida whole."