MR 13

Chapter 13

Mad Rosetta
Even Thrown-Away Trash Deserves a Second Look (3)

Flip, flip.

Only the sound of neatly maintained fingernails turning the pages of a catalog filled the room.

And the more it went on, the more Ant Etuilang found herself draining her tea just to swallow down her dry nerves.

So, s-scary…!

The young lady in front of her was dazzlingly beautiful—but equally sharp in presence.

Rumors about the Duchess of Benetra’s eldest daughter were likely to blame: that her specialty was “creating holes in servants’ heads,” and her hobby was making her stepsister cry.

Still, Ant Etuilang forced herself to hide her nervousness.

Ant Etuilang.

Born to parents who ran a laundry business, she had developed an early eye for clothing design.

She had only recently opened her own atelier in the capital under her family name—just nine months ago, a true newcomer.

Why is she so quiet…?

She glanced nervously at Rosetta.

Though widely recognized in her hometown for her exceptional craftsmanship, the reality was that even paying her atelier rent was a struggle.

And then—like a miracle amidst the struggle for survival—she received a commission from the eldest daughter of House Benetra.

I don’t know why she chose me specifically… but this is my chance! If I can just show my dresses to nobles…!

She thought of her parents back in a small eastern village, still writing monthly letters like:
“You foolish child trapped in your little well… stop dreaming and come home already. Customers are complaining to me about loose threads again!”

Fueled by determination, she clung to hope.

When she first arrived, she was told: the commission was for a dress for the upcoming Spring Stage banquet.

With Rosetta’s appearance, the promotional impact would be enormous.

Of course, the rumors said she was a troublemaker… but if she caused a scene at the banquet, maybe her dress would even make it into the papers?

Just as she was trying to convince herself of that optimistic scenario—

Snap.

The catalog closed.

“…Not bad.”

“Yes! Ah—do you have a design you like?”

“No.”

“….”

The seamstress stiffened, her face frozen awkwardly, while I quietly placed the catalog back on the table.

“You have good sense. I may not be an expert in fashion, but… I can see you try to follow trends while adding your own distinctions.”

“Ah, yes…”

She looked like she wanted to ask why I was criticizing her after complimenting her.

Her designs were excellent.

I knew this for a fact—because two years later, Odette would wear nothing but Etuilang House dresses, becoming a walking advertisement for them.

Ant Etuilang herself would later say:

“The ancient sun god fell in love with the fairy Linque’s flowing movements… I only wished every woman could carry that same beauty.”

Her success, however, was ultimately sparked by a surprising figure: the young First Princess, then only eight years old.

At that time, tight corsets had caused controversy when Empress Beatrice’s ribs were damaged due to overly restrictive fashion.

Concerned, the First Princess wandered the capital and discovered a dress designed by Etuilang.

A silhouette that did not squeeze the waist, yet flowed elegantly.

Soon after, at an official event, the Empress wore a matching dress with the princess—and Etuilang House became famous overnight.

That was the reason I chose her.

Of course, that happens two years from now… so she probably hasn’t developed that style yet.

Still, I needed a decisive impact.

A debutante ball was a young noble lady’s first appearance in society.

It couldn’t be too polished… but it also couldn’t be clumsy.

It had to be pure like a forget-me-not—yet elegant.

But current fashion emphasized tightly cinched waists and exaggerated skirts.

That was not what I needed.

Above all, to fix my reputation… I need shock value.

I needed that future dress.

“Can you draw exactly what I say?”

“I—I can try…”

“Then pick up your pen.”

Her forced compliance made her look like she might cry as she grabbed paper and quill.

“I don’t like tight waists. No corset. The waistline should match the ribcage. But that might make it look too plain, so we’ll compensate with fabric and structure. Soft puffed shoulders would help, and also—”

I continued explaining in detail.

So quickly that she nearly scribbled in a panic, her eyes growing wider and wider.

Finally, she finished the sketch and handed it over.

“Is… is this what you meant?”

“….”

As expected of a future pioneer.

She drew it exactly as I said—perfectly.

Even Sing, floating nearby, examined it and chuckled as if he had figured something out.

【So that’s who you are… a woman who will leave a mark on fashion history.】

She presented several designs in total, all of them beautiful enough that I was satisfied.

“Good.”

“….”

“Oh. That time I truly mean it. Relax.”

Only then did she finally exhale in relief.

But she quickly noticed she had shown exhaustion and became self-conscious again.

She probably thought I was going to eat her alive or something.

“Of course you brought fabric samples too, right?”

“Yes—yes, of course!”

She hurriedly opened her bag, suddenly looking much more energetic.

I briefly thought I wouldn’t mind if I just funded Etuilang House entirely.

You look troubled, darling.

After Penny left after turning off the lights, Sing spoke.

I leaned back against the headboard, and just as he said—tomorrow was going to be a problem.

Because Odette had visited my room right after Etuilang left.

• “Lady Chesia sent a request saying he’d like to visit tomorrow. Since the weather’s warming, how about the garden?”

That scheming woman.

She hid the fact that the letter was addressed to me and pretended it was Chesia’s request to her.

And not only that—she informed me the night before.

I nearly lost my composure.

She even casually mentions my fiancé’s name…

Everything that had once been overlooked now irritated me endlessly.

• “The garden sounds nice. Prepare it by tomorrow morning. Bonita, you may also attend if you wish.”
• “…Of course I’ll attend, sister.”

Odette’s smug attitude annoyed me, so I provoked her slightly.

She responded with a stiff expression.

She probably expected me to slap her.

But I was too focused on Chesia for that.

“Honestly… I might kill him the moment I see his face tomorrow.”

【From how angry you are, it doesn’t seem like your relationship started badly.】

Sing recalled scenes he had witnessed at the Montague estate.

Right… he only saw the worst of it.

All he remembered were scenes of me being mistreated—or Chesia and Odette’s affair.

“…We didn’t start off badly.”

I remembered our first meeting.

I was nine.

At my birthday banquet in the ducal estate, I saw his polished face for the first time.

Unlike the chaotic children around us, Chesia approached with calm, elegant steps.

• “I am Chesia Fordcos of House Montague. May I have permission to kiss your hand?”

How refined.

Compared to the boys around me—who asked rude questions or picked their noses openly—he stood out completely.

At nine years old, I realized something:

Being two years older made all the difference.

Thus, a noble engagement between two prestigious houses was sealed easily.

Even though the Emperor died that year and mourning delayed things, we still got engaged before I turned ten.

“He said he had never seen a girl more beautiful than me in his life. A rather arrogant and adorable eleven-year-old.”

Yes.

Without a doubt, Chesia once looked at me gently.

It was my first love.

【You really have terrible taste in men.】

“I agree, but it’s still annoying.”

I pulled the blanket over my head.

There were vague mutterings about how “he was the one who proposed first,” but I ignored it.

“The son of the Montague Marquis has arrived.”

The garden was pleasantly warm for early spring.

Odette immediately stood up to greet him.

Unlike her, I remained seated, watching Chesia approach.

His hair—like burning flame—matched his intense personality.

His straight nose and golden eyes sparkled like scattered gold dust.

There had been a time when just looking at him made my heart race uncontrollably.

• “You know I’ll only ever marry you, Rosetta.”

Back then, I almost believed we would become a couple destined to never part.

“…Welcome.”

Fordcos Chesia.

My cruel fiancé.