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chapter 12
January 12, 2021
Madame Bertin’s boutique, located in the very heart of the bustling district, occupied the largest space in the building despite its high rent. Its expansive glass windows displayed artistic hats and shawls, catching the eye of every passerby. Inside, fluttering lace, vividly colored ribbons, and dazzling accessories filled the space. Madame Bertin’s clientele were mostly high-ranking individuals, and luxury exuded from every corner of the boutique. Portraits of the royal family adorned the walls, and works by renowned artists were displayed like in a museum. Even furniture that would be unaffordable for most nobles was present, enhancing the presentation of her dresses and accessories.
The effort poured into each dress and the fact that her pieces were the most expensive in the empire meant few dared to purchase them casually. Yet every young lady considered it a lifelong dream to try on her dresses; her reputation and fashion sense were unparalleled. Starting from the bottom, Madame Bertin had risen to success with a confident, chic demeanor.
But today, that usual chicness was nowhere to be seen. She had declared a “day off” to everyone in advance, and a sign reading “Closed today due to unforeseen circumstances” hung on the door. She focused all her attention on her own appearance, as if preparing for the arrival of a lover.
“My goodness! They’re coming… really coming! My muse is coming! Oh, what shall I do? Not a speck of dust can be allowed near that noble presence!”
A maid, diligently scrubbing the floor as if even nonexistent dust might appear, spoke to her.
“Madam, if you flap around like that, you might create dust where there isn’t any.”
“Oh, really? Then that won’t do. Our precious muse is coming—dust must not appear under any circumstances. Indeed, it mustn’t.”
Madame Bertin, barely able to contain her excitement, carefully sat in a corner chair and scrutinized the dresses on the nearby mannequins.
“Please, let them like these…”
The person she was eagerly awaiting was Irwen Carlyle, the recently active Duchess of Carlyle. Madame Bertin had seen her once at her wedding and, enchanted by her beauty, had taken her as her muse.
Pervin arrived at the mansion exactly at 2:00 PM, and we set off for the city by carriage. Claiming that his body felt stiff from palace duties, he subtly draped his left arm over mine. The posture felt like an embrace, which made me slightly self-conscious. Yet the view outside the carriage window captivated me more. It was my first time going anywhere other than the mansion since arriving in this world. Excited, I kept bouncing in my seat and staring out the window. Pervin looked at me with an expression of mild surprise.
“You like going outside that much?”
“Of course! When the weather is this nice, we should go out, soak up the sun, and spend a little money.”
“Then how did someone who enjoys going out end up staying inside for the past four years?”
Again with the teasing! I was about to retort when his gaze pinned me to my seat. His sharp, languid eyes studied me intently. Somehow, his attitude seemed softer now, his tone gentler, and his gaze almost sweet. As I stared at him, I noticed him nervously tapping his right hand on his thigh. My eyes automatically followed to his middle finger, heavily bandaged.
“Did you hurt yourself? What happened?”
“It’s nothing.”
He hastily covered his fingers, and I instinctively moved closer, worried. A man like him, who seemed to tolerate no injury, now had a wound.
“Let me see. Was it bad?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Earlier, he draped his arm over me, and now Pervin began to subtly withdraw. His pale face betrayed some tension. I approached him carefully.
“Show me. If it’s serious, you should go home and rest. I can go to the boutique alone.”
“That won’t do. I have to keep my promise.”
As I reached to take his hand, he twisted to avoid me. Suddenly, the carriage jolted over a cobblestone, and I nearly lost my balance while reaching for his hand. Pervin caught me by the waist, pulling me close. He gritted his teeth as he tugged me, his injured middle finger straining against the motion. Once the carriage stabilized, I straightened and gently examined his hand.
“See? It hurts.”
Though the bandage prevented full inspection, I could glimpse faint teeth marks beneath it. Teeth marks? How? I reasoned as logically as possible.
“Were you bitten by an animal?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he replied:
“…No.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wasn’t bitten.”
“Then did you bite yourself?”
His eyes flickered nervously before he hastily changed his explanation. Something about his flustered demeanor seemed suspicious.
“Come to think of it, maybe it was an animal, after all.”
“You’re strong enough to subdue an animal. I doubt it bit you.”
“It was an accident. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
He withdrew his hand, but I couldn’t let go, worried about potential infection. What if it were a rabid dog? I needed him healthy for the future. As we drew close, our thighs brushed together.
“You made sure it was properly treated, right?”
“I did.”
I fussed over his hand, giving advice. He remained unusually calm, still clenching his teeth as if restraining himself.
“Keep it clean; don’t let germs in. But are you really not going home? I can go to the boutique alone.”
“Why do you keep trying to leave me out?”
“I’m worried.”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry. We’re going together, so don’t think about separating.”
“Then after the boutique, let’s remove the bandage and disinfect it properly again.”
Pervin said nothing but stared at me, then suddenly leaned closer, looking almost aggrieved.
“Do you know this is all your fault?”
“Why are you blaming me? Tell me honestly so I know.”
I moved closer, interrogating him. He rolled his lips before dropping his gaze to mine. The relaxed ease he had when we first boarded the carriage was gone, replaced with a flushed, angry look.
“I can’t say.”
“Then tell me. What did you do because of me?”
“…It was absurd.”
His face reddened as he gritted his teeth. The tension beneath his eyes was deep.
“You did something absurd. You, who are known as the empire’s top warrior, got bitten by an animal… Oh!”
In a swift motion, Pervin pulled my hand into his shirt. The slightly open buttons gave way, and my hand felt the heat of his chest. My fingers instinctively curled, but he interlaced them with his, pressing my hand to his chest. His eyes, bloodshot and intense, locked on mine.
“Does this make sense? My heart is beating this fast. Irwen, do you know why this is happening?”
“How should I know? I’m not a doctor like Dr. Dulphari.”
“This is all because of you. You.”
“Why because of me?”
Instead of answering, he lazily lowered his gaze, pressuring me with his eyes. My chest thumped with the intensity. Then he finally softened his gaze.
“Isn’t it natural for a husband’s heart to race for his wife?”
Pervin stared deeply into Irwen’s blue eyes. His heart, which had begun to beat again for her, was revealed. He didn’t yet expect her to respond with affection, but he couldn’t help but speak sincerely. Irwen felt new, unpredictable, and utterly lovable. Her concern for his wound was a first, her interest in him newly awakened. Every moment made his heart pound. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but held back, not wanting to overwhelm his wife with the early stages of their renewed relationship. Yet the more he thought of her, the softer and sweeter his gaze became.
Aligning his green eyes with Irwen’s blue, she asked, genuinely concerned:
“Could it be… arrhythmia?”
“What?”
“Is your heart not well?”
Her naïve concern astonished him. How could she interpret it that way? She pressed gently against his chest.
“As your wife, it’s my duty to care for your health. Tell me honestly—any heart problems?”
“I’m too healthy, that’s the problem… which is why it hurts at night.”
The carriage slowed, and suddenly someone peeked through the window.
“Excuse me, madam. We’re almost at the boutique.”
The coachman had come forward to announce our arrival, quickly diverting his eyes.
“Sorry, madam. We’ll be there shortly… please continue your business.”
The coachman returned to his seat. He must have seen my hand in Pervin’s shirt. Flustered, my eyes flickered.
“Really… let go of my hand.”
Pervin smiled gracefully and withdrew her hand from his chest but still held it tightly. She was calm, yet he gripped her hand, partly out of frustration. How naive and unperceptive she was. Previously difficult to handle due to her sensitivity, now every moment with her felt new. How could he win her heart? He wanted to confess, but feared frightening her. Afraid of reverting to their old, cold relationship, he wished to move toward a loving future. Irwen waved her hand insistently.
“Hmm? Why aren’t you letting go?”
Feeling unjustly accused by her carefree expression, Pervin lowered her hand to his thigh.
“You said it’s your duty to check my health. Is the chest enough? Why not check somewhere else?”
“Pervin, what are you doing? The coachman is there—are you serious?”
“So what?”
He brazenly replied, unheard in the past.
“Couples are meant to touch each other.”
This is truly strange. He suggested checking if his heart was beating, then even jokingly told me to check elsewhere. I finally slapped his hand away, pressing myself against the carriage window. Silence lingered. Behind me, I felt Pervin’s piercing gaze. Ahead, a grand boutique spanned an entire building. I exaggerated my amazement:
“Oh my, look! It’s a huge boutique!”
The entire store, visible through massive glass windows, displayed rows of extravagant dresses on mannequins, catching the attention of passersby. Strangely, there wasn’t a single customer—only a woman anxiously sitting inside. Pervin spoke, seemingly calm again.
“That’s where we’re going.”
“Madame Bertin’s boutique? Why is it empty?”
“Apparently not unpopular—the empress uses it. The dresses are so many that she rents the entire boutique for herself.”
I looked at him, astonished. Renting the whole store? For the entire day? We alighted from the carriage, and Pervin offered his hand to help me navigate my long dress.
“No, I can manage… Ah!”
I wavered and accepted his support. His hand steadied me. He glanced at me, worried, but when I looked back, his expression hardened as if to hide concern.
“You should have listened to me.”
“I admit that.”
Pervin withdrew his hand as we entered. Madame Bertin sprang up energetically.
“Duke and Duchess of Carlyle, an honor to meet you. I am Isabelle Bertin, commonly called Madame Bertin. Thank you for contacting me.”
The boutique overflowed with dresses and accessories. Five mannequins displayed clearly expensive dresses: embroidered white gowns, meticulously stitched purple dresses, and more. Pervin glanced at me before leaving me in her hands.
“My wife’s debutante ball at the palace next week is essentially her social debut—though four years later, that term doesn’t quite fit.”
“I understand. I swear on my name, I will make the Duchess a queen of the social scene!”
“No need to make me a queen…”
“Then a social queen she shall be!”
Madame Bertin vowed with radiant eyes.
“I’ve designed clothes hoping for this day. Seeing the Duchess at the wedding inspired me. I longed to show her my designs but never had the chance until now.”
I couldn’t help but look puzzled. Yet Madame Bertin was purely excited.
“But patience wins! Four years, and finally the Duchess will grace the ball! Shall we see the dress, madam? Or should we get the Duke’s permission first? Usually husbands share their opinions while selecting outfits.”
Pervin waved dismissively.
“I know little about women’s fashion; you handle it.”
“Understood. Duchess, this way.”
I nodded, swept along by her enthusiasm, secretly thrilled—like a princess in a fairy tale.
On the day of the ball, nobles arrived at the palace. At last, a golden carriage, adorned with elaborate patterns, arrived. Pervin, in black uniform, elegantly stepped down and held the hand of the woman exiting. Wearing red long dress and golden heels, she captivated everyone around. Palace attendants averted their eyes from Pervin’s stern gaze. He steadied her on the ground. High heels made her slightly unstable, but he held her firmly.
The dress was slightly revealing: the back mostly bare, partial exposure in front. Other noblewomen might have worn similar or more revealing attire, but Pervin ignored them. The dress, made for Irwen, pleased her immensely. Observing her black hair loosely braided to one side, Pervin adjusted it.
“Like this.”
Irwen blinked, puzzled.
