Chapter 12
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Cutting-Edge Summer Attire
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A moment later, in the corridors of the Imperial Palace.
Two palace maids wearing stockings walked down the hall, trays of teacups balanced carefully in their hands.
Snap, snap, snap.
It wasn't their usual footsteps. It was the soft rustle of silk brushing together—no, the sensual friction of thighs clad in stockings crossing with each step. The sound scratched at the nerves in a peculiar way, carrying a frequency that instinctively aroused anyone who heard it.
The eunuchs passing through the corridor froze in their tracks. Soldiers on patrol found their heads turning involuntarily.
"W-What is that...?"
"Her legs... her legs are black, but I can see right through them!"
Every sway of their skirts revealed a tantalizing glimpse of those black-clad legs. It was a shocking departure, something utterly unprecedented in this conservative world of martial arts.
"Hep!"
One soldier stared so intently that he smacked his forehead against his spear. Another let out a trickle of nosebleed but couldn't tear his eyes away.
Cheonwi watched the scene from around the corner of the hallway, arms crossed and a satisfied smile playing on his lips.
"Nice reaction."
As the men of the Imperial Palace lost themselves to the allure of those legs, the maids' strides grew ever more confident. They mistook the flood of stares for awe.
Cheonwi nodded approvingly.
"Good, phase one success. This level of impact is more than enough."
He pulled the next blueprint from his pocket.
"Next up is 'sheer clothing.' Before summer hits, I'll turn this palace into Bikini Island."
His ambitions had only just taken their first step.
That afternoon.
The emperor's office was shrouded in heavy silence. Hyeonjong scowled as he pored over the mountain of memorials piled on his desk.
"Your Majesty, I have brought tea."
"Enter."
The door opened, and Palace Maid A—the one bestowed with Cheonwi's 'functional leg guards'—stepped inside. She walked just as he had taught her: wide strides, legs crossing slightly with each step.
Snap, snap.
Hyeonjong reached for the teacup without looking up from his memorials.
"Set it there."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The maid bent her knees to place the cup down.
In that instant, her skirt lifted naturally, thrusting the black stockings wrapping her legs—and the pristine absolute territory above them—squarely into the emperor's field of vision.
"...Huh?"
Hyeonjong looked up. And saw.
In that fleeting moment, the emperor's pupils trembled as if struck by an earthquake.
"Pffftthhhaaa!"
The tea he had been about to sip erupted from his mouth like a fountain.
"Y-Your Majesty! Forgive me!"
The maid dropped to the floor in panic. The motion accentuated the curve of her hips, making the garter belt clips stand out even more clearly.
Hyeonjong coughed and pointed a trembling finger at her legs.
"W-What... what is that?! Why are your legs like that?!"
"Th-This is... leg protection granted by Her Majesty the Empress..."
"Leg protection...?"
Hyeonjong stared blankly at the maid's legs. His heart pounded. It felt like a bolt of lightning had struck his monotonous daily routine.
Word spread like wildfire through the palace: the emperor, forgetting all decorum, had spat out his tea upon seeing a maid's legs in his office.
Time passed, and sweltering summer heat descended upon the Imperial Palace.
The midsummer sun showed no mercy.
Direct rays poured down as if the sky had a hole in it, scorching the palace rooftiles and seeping the heat straight into the buildings. The office, with not a breath of wind, was little more than a massive steamer.
Chirp, chirp, chirp, screeeeech!
Even the cicadas screaming outside clawed at the emperor's nerves like a taut wire.
"Arrrgh! It's so hot! Am I a dumpling?! I'm steaming to death here!"
Emperor Hyeonjong threw decorum to the wind and screamed. He ripped open the front of his dragon robe and flailed a massive fan wildly. But the more he fanned, the hotter the air grew, doing nothing to cool the sweat streaming down his body.
Sweat dripping from his brow stung his eyes. His back was soaked, sticking to the chair with a sticky squelch. His discomfort peaked.
"What kind of cursed weather is this?! Can't it at least rain?!"
Hyeonjong slammed the fan onto his desk in irritation.
"Hey! I called for tea ages ago—why are you so slow?! Are you trying to dry me out?!"
No sooner had the emperor bellowed than the door burst open.
"Y-Your Majesty! I bring refreshing five-flavor berry tea!"
Palace maids, layered in thick court robes as protocol demanded, hurried in with trays. Their faces were flushed red, beads of sweat dotting their foreheads.
The real problem came next.
As the maids drew near, a wave of hot, humid air hit him. And with it, the musky scent of sweat-soaked clothes assaulted Hyeonjong's nose.
"Urk!"
Hyeonjong pinched his nose and grimaced.
"Ugh, the smell! What kind of tea is this—it's all stale body odor! Do you even wash?!"
"Forgive us, Your Majesty! It's just so hot on the way over..."
The maids prostrated themselves with miserable expressions. They weren't sweating for fun. Wrapped in padded jackets and skirts in this killer heat, not sweating would have been the miracle.
But with Hyeonjong's discomfort already at a boiling point, rational judgment was out of the question.
"Get out! I don't even want to look at you—leave now! Begone!"
"Y-Your Majesty..."
"Are you deaf?! My eyes are hot, my nose is hot—get out!"
In the end, the maids fled without even setting down the tea. The empty office fell back into heavy silence and stifling heat.
Hyeonjong slumped in his chair, utterly drained.
"Haa... Life has no joy left. In this steamer of a palace, nothing to see, nothing to enjoy..."
That was when it happened.
"Your Majesty, your servant Cheonwi reports."
A clear voice rang from beyond the door. Hyeonjong irritably waved a hand to dismiss it but paused. Cheonwi might be different. Lately, this eunuch had caught his eye, always bringing bizarre gadgets that entertained him.
"Enter."
Creeeak.
The door opened, and Cheonwi stepped in. He wasn't alone. Two maids followed demurely behind him.
Hyeonjong narrowed his eyes.
"Cheonwi, I'm in a foul mood right now. If you've brought more stinky ones, send them back immediately."
Cheonwi smiled brightly and bowed.
"Your Majesty, how could I ever disturb your peace? I've brought bone-chilling iced tea, along with a 'miracle cure' to cleanse your eyes and soothe your heart."
"Miracle cure? What's that?"
"Seeing is believing. Girls, come forward and greet His Majesty."
Cheonwi stepped aside with a gesture. The maids behind him advanced.
And in that moment...
Hyeonjong's eyes bulged like ping-pong balls ready to pop.
"Gasp...!"
The fan slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.
It was outrageous. No—a revolution.
The outfits on the maids were bizarre and beautiful, unlike anything ever seen in the palace.
The tops resembled jackets, but the fabric was the issue. The legendary transparent silk woven from spider demon threads. Thin as dragonfly wings, it pretended to cover while revealing even more intimately. The outline of their white undergarments shone through, along with the soft apricot glow of their skin shifting with the light.
But the real shock was below.
The stuffy ankle-length skirts were gone. In their place, daring miniskirts cut boldly above the knee. And stretching down those legs...
'Black...?'
Hyeonjong swallowed hard.
Pitch-black stockings encased their legs entirely. The white skin peeking through the sheer fabric blended with the black into a seductive gray sheen. It was lewder, more provocative than bare skin.
With every movement, glimpses flashed from under the swaying short skirts: black straps and bands cinching the thighs.
Garter belts.
The sacred restraints guarding the absolute territory.
Hyeonjong gaped vacantly, his gaze wandering lost in the air... far from it. He blatantly scanned the maids from head to toe.
"Th-This... what in the world..."
Cheonwi jumped in with an explanation. Now was the time to sell.
"Your Majesty, this is the cutting-edge summer attire trending in the Western royal courts, called the 'Cool-Biz' look."
"Cool... Biz?"
"Yes. 'Cool' means refreshing, and 'biz' means business. In other words, it embodies dressing coolly for efficient work."
Cheonwi launched into his shameless sales pitch with a straight face.
"As you see, it's made from highly breathable special fabric for optimal sweat evaporation. No more discomfort from odors. Plus, those black leg guards relieve fatigue, letting the maids serve Your Majesty faster and more nimbly."
"Ooh... breathable... fatigue relief..."
Hyeonjong murmured in a trance. But Cheonwi's words fell on deaf ears. His brain was overwhelmed by the visual assault before him.
Cheonwi drove the nail home.
"Above all, this attire has proven medical—no, aesthetic—benefits for Your Majesty's 'mental stability' and 'eye cleansing'."
Drool trickled from Hyeonjong's mouth. He hastily wiped it with his sleeve and nodded vigorously.
"Cool... Biz... What a refreshingly cool name. Excellent... simply excellent. My heart already feels adrift on a vast ocean."
"Then, shall we serve the tea?"
Cheonwi signaled with his eyes. The maids approached the desk with their trays.
Cheonwi crossed his arms behind them, watching contentedly. This was the highlight. He'd drilled them day and night on 'angles' and 'poses' for this moment.
'Now, show him. The elegant curves born of capitalism.'
The maid bent at the waist to set down the teacup.
Slipping.
The sheer jacket couldn't defy gravity and draped forward. Through the transparent fabric, the shadow of her ample cleavage gleamed starkly.
Hyeonjong's pupils quaked like in an earthquake. His gaze locked onto the cleavage like iron to a magnet, then dropped to her skirt.
As she leaned, the skirt tugged back slightly, perfectly exposing the garter straps hugging her thighs and the boundary of white skin.
"Gasp..."
Hyeonjong's breathing grew ragged. He sipped his tea haphazardly, his hand trembling so the cup clinked against the saucer, shattering the silence.
'Big Brother, time for your blood pressure meds. That nosebleed's coming.'
Cheonwi chuckled inwardly.
Hyeonjong could no longer maintain reason. Imperial dignity? Decorum? Those had flown to Andromeda long ago. Instinctively—like the north and south poles of magnets—his hand reached toward the maid's leg.