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“Is this what they call carb addiction?”
Still, she supposed she should be glad that eating greens at least made her stomach growl less. Grace soothed the emptiness in her stomach by gulping down cold water.
“Did the tailor say he was coming today?”
“Yes, he’s expected to arrive before lunch.”
Grace polished off the salad and looked wistfully at the empty bowl before rising from her seat.
‘I need to get used to this. The more you eat, the more your appetite grows, after all.’
“Then I’d better get ready to receive him.”
“Shall I prepare some refreshments?”
“……”
Grace hesitated at the butler’s question.
She should at least offer tea to a guest, but was it necessary to serve cookies too?
Having eaten nothing but greens like a herbivore for the past few days, her thoughts felt a little stingier than usual.
Of course, the vegetarian dishes themselves tasted fine. Even if her personal chef was assigned to the annex, this was still the Felton ducal house.
But no matter how tasty they were, they were still vegetables.
‘I’ve barely touched carbs lately.’
Grace had drastically reduced her intake of salt, sugar, and flour—what she dubbed “the powders of happiness.” As a result, she felt a little less happy.
‘No, but at least I’ve lost a bit of weight.’
For those who are overweight, dieting tends to show quick results at first.
More accurately, she had shed swelling rather than fat. But eventually, swelling turns into fat with time—an unsettling reality.
Grace touched the flesh under her chin. There was less to grab than before.
‘Usually the face slims down first, right?’
Of course, it could all just be in her head. While Grace tapped her cheeks with her fingers, her maid Sally spoke up.
“Madam, your complexion looks good these days.”
Grace brightened at her words.
“Really? I’ve been drinking a lot of water lately—maybe it’s paying off.”
“Does drinking water really make your skin better?”
“That’s what people say. If you’re tired, drink water; if your skin’s rough, drink water; whatever happens, just drink water.”
“Huh? Which people?”
“Well, I only heard it secondhand.”
‘Though I don’t even have the kind of social circle to hear secondhand gossip, really.’
And who knew if drinking water for just a few days could make any visible difference? Grace didn’t say that part aloud.
“So, shall I prepare refreshments?”
“Yes. They’ve worked hard to come here, so it’s only right to treat them properly.”
Technically, she was the one paying them, so she didn’t have to serve anything.
But manners and propriety existed. And Grace wasn’t shameless enough to ignore that.
‘Besides, I’ll be drinking tea too. It would feel rude not to offer them anything.’
And if the ducal household didn’t offer so much as a cookie, who knew what rumors might spread? Grace might be a lazy and incompetent hostess who didn’t involve herself in household affairs, but hospitality to guests was not something she could neglect.
‘And this is a tailor, after all.’
A dressmaker—someone who dealt with countless noble ladies and young women.
The Felton Duchy wouldn’t hire some mediocre tailor. He was probably used by other prominent families as well. If she served only tea without any refreshments, it was obvious nasty rumors would follow.
‘Fat, ugly, lazy, incompetent, and can’t even treat her guests properly.’
Grace thought not a single flattering phrase had ever been attached to the name “Grace Felton.” And as far as she knew, those rumors weren’t entirely untrue.
‘It’s not like I’m that ugly… or that lazy.’
Incompetence was debatable, and as for hospitality—well, no one ever visited, so how was she supposed to know?
At this point, Grace wondered if all these rumors had been deliberately spread by someone.
‘…Probably not.’
She sighed deeply.
“Prepare everything so nothing is lacking.”
“Yes, Madam.”
“I won’t be eating any of it, just so you know.”
“Understood.”
Her stomach growled loudly.
‘Ugh.’
The sound was loud enough that someone might have heard. Her face flushed red.
She decided she would drink plenty of water before the tailor arrived.
⋆★⋆
“Greetings to the Duchess.”
“…Welcome.”
The tailor arrived at the annex’s reception room and bowed politely to Grace.
She was inwardly grateful for his courteous manner toward her.
‘Isn’t this… how it’s supposed to be?’
Usually, in cliché stories, people ignored her status and were rude right away. Given her terrible reputation, she had expected to be dismissed or mocked immediately.
Unaware of her anxious thoughts, the tailor handed her a thick catalog once they were seated in the reception room.
“I brought the catalog since I heard you wished to have new clothes made, Duchess.”
Grace sat on the long sofa and flipped through the catalog he offered. Honestly, she couldn’t tell what was fashionable just by looking at dresses.
The original Grace had lived secluded in the annex, and the current Grace had only recently arrived in this world.
‘Oh, this one’s pretty.’
One dress caught her eye—a deep teal gown decorated with gold thread.
It was truly beautiful and elegant.
Noticing where her gaze lingered, the tailor, who had been organizing fabric samples, spoke up.
“Does that dress appeal to you, Madam?”
“I think it’s beautiful—yes.”
Grace nodded, a little awkwardly. Of course, she couldn’t imagine herself actually wearing it yet.
Just as she was about to add something, the tailor spoke first.
“If I may offer my humble advice, that dress would not suit you, Duchess.”
“…What?”
“Countess Coditon has ordered that exact design as well. If you were to order the same dress, I fear you might become the subject of ridicule.”
Grace’s fingers froze at the edge of the page.
“…What?”
Before she could respond, memories suddenly resurfaced in her mind.
“Duchess, those accessories are too gaudy for you. You’ll be swallowed up by the shine of the jewels.”
“I recommend this dress instead. Freckles on a noblewoman of your status are considered a major flaw.”
“Oh, that diamond necklace? I heard Her Highness the Princess bought the same one. Everyone praised her beauty when she wore it. You truly have a good eye, Duchess. Do you like that necklace too?”
The tailor had once spoken to her in that same insidious, patronizing tone.
‘Is he insane?’
The original Grace had been painfully timid, always gauging others’ reactions.
So no matter how much the tailor insulted or belittled her, she never dared to talk back and just suffered in silence.
He always made his cutting remarks in private, where no other staff could hear.
And Grace had always believed it was her own fault.
‘What a lunatic.’
Her teal eyes gleamed sharply.
Yes, to the tailor, Grace was easy prey.
As the duchess, her payments were guaranteed, she could afford expensive fabrics, and—most importantly—she was that Grace.
He could demean her all he wanted, and she wouldn’t make a sound. Looking down on the mistress of the mighty Felton Duchy probably felt good to him.
But that only applied to the old Grace.
She was thoroughly fed up with being belittled, especially after all the emotional baggage left in this body.
Besides, she had cut down on sugar and flour mainly for her health.
She was already stressed by the concerned looks she got for dieting—she wasn’t about to tolerate this provocation.
Her patience was now like that of a lion that had skipped breakfast and lunch.
And the tailor had just become her prey.
Grace tried to recall the kinds of outrageous troublemakers she’d seen on the internet in her previous life. But she quickly calmed herself.
‘No. If I blow up here, it’ll only hurt me during the divorce proceedings. It’ll look like it’s my fault.’
The empire she lived in wasn’t extremely patriarchal, but it wasn’t completely free of male favoritism either.
And Grace was infamous, while her husband Benjamin Felton had a spotless reputation and public sympathy. And that sympathy existed because of her.
She was already at a disadvantage. Benjamin would probably agree to a divorce right away and even throw in extra money to be rid of her.
She figured if she swore an oath at the temple never to approach him again, he might even pay her more.
And she didn’t want that sum reduced unnecessarily.
For a brief moment, Grace’s mind raced.
‘How can I get rid of this tailor… preferably in a way that cuts off his income too?’
The original Grace, even at her most resolute, would probably have stopped at cutting ties between the duchy and the tailor.
That alone would have been a huge step.
But financially, the loss wouldn’t have been significant for the tailor. Grace wasn’t a prominent socialite—she never attended salons, tea parties, or balls, nor was she an admired figure.
She was just an unremarkable woman who had married into the Felton house by luck.
