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CHAPTER 07
When Etisha arrived at the drawing room and entered through the open door, six eyes turned toward her.
‘Ah, so it’s them.’
The famed designers she had been wondering about turned out to be familiar faces.
‘The ones who used to shower Larienne with gifts…’
They say a designer needs a muse to inspire their work.
Larienne, a scandalous icon in high society, constantly drawing attention with new incidents, was the perfect muse for any designer.
‘They’re going to be shocked when they see me.’
Vivian, the dress designer. Lucy, the jeweler. Nigel, the shoemaker.
Larienne would often send Etisha to their salons to run errands.
“Tisha! Go pick up the dress I reserved from Vivian. And stop by Nigel’s to get the shoes too!”
But most of the time, the deadlines were still far off.
Of course, the items weren’t ready, and Etisha would return empty-handed after a wasted trip. Larienne would then mock and scold her.
“What? You didn’t bring them because they’re still being made? That’s no excuse! If I told you to bring them, you should’ve gotten them—even if it meant threatening them to finish!”
‘After a few times of that, they all started looking down on me…’
Even designers, who sell their creations, have to cater to the client’s whims in the end.
Larienne was their client, not Etisha. And since the only clothes Etisha wore were Larienne’s cast-offs, there was no profit to be made from pleasing her.
‘In the end, Larienne was the one with the money. I was treated like her maid. There were even times they wouldn’t let me inside the salon and slammed the door in my face.’
It wasn’t that long ago.
Just a month or two.
‘…’
Etisha lifted her chin and straightened her back.
As she entered the room with perfect posture, just as she expected, the three designers looked utterly stunned to see her.
They scanned her with wary, suspicious eyes.
“Ladies and gentlemen,”
Etisha walked past them and sat confidently at the head seat.
“It’s been a while. I hope you’ve all been well.”
Though her words were polite, none of the designers could bring themselves to respond. They just sat there, jaws practically on the floor.
“Lady Heinz?”
“What is Lady Etisha Heinz doing here…?”
“Don’t tell me, the Duke of Wintel’s commission… is for her…?”
Looking down at the babbling, confused designers, Etisha replied coolly,
“I heard the Duke brought you here himself. You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you?”
“Ah…”
“I’d like to hear what the Duke requested. Which one of you will explain?”
“…”
Their eyes darted nervously.
The engagement between Etisha Heinz and Cayenne Wintel had only been announced yesterday. Only the nobles attending the Founding Festival were aware.
Unaware of this news, the designers were frantically trying to read Etisha.
‘What’s going on? Why is Etisha Heinz at the Duke’s villa?’
‘If she’s here this early in the morning… does that mean she spent the night?’
‘No way… Could she be the Duke’s mistress? That can’t be… What’s really happening?’
Their thoughts were practically written on their faces. When none of them could form a coherent sentence, Etisha sighed.
“Since none of you seem to have anything to say, I’ll take my leave.”
As she started to rise, panic flashed across their faces.
“N-no! My lady, that’s not it… We simply came on the Duke’s order, and…”
“I don’t quite follow. Would you clarify?”
“Ah, well… The Duke commissioned us for attire, jewelry, and shoes to be worn at the Founding Festival.”
“…”
“We assumed, naturally, that the items were for him…”
Now it made sense.
These arrogant designers had rushed here only because they thought the client was the Duke.
“I see.”
A faint smile played on Etisha’s lips. She could have sent them away then and there, but she didn’t.
“So, you were all expecting to see the Duke rather than me. Unfortunately for you, this commission is for me. It seems the Duke is giving me another gift.”
After all, Etisha was just a decoy.
A dazzling distraction to conceal the Duke’s true mistress.
That meant she had no need to act humble or submissive in this situation.
‘My role is to act like the Duchess of Wintel—boldly and visibly.’
Etisha lifted her chin, eyes filled with noble pride.
She was slightly worried about how awkward it might feel, putting on such an arrogant air after years of being timid—but imagining Larienne made it easy to mimic.
“You will all be designing my dress, my jewelry, and my shoes.”
“…”
“Mistakes won’t be tolerated. And there’s no time to waste. I need something to wear to tonight’s second-day Founding Festival party.”
“Ah, my lady…”
“Also, it needs to be a masterpiece worthy of the name Wintel. If you don’t think you’re capable, you’re free to leave right now.”
Etisha perfectly imitated Larienne.
No—she was even more impressive and commanding than Larienne.
Larienne’s immaturity always showed in her tone and gestures. But with Etisha, there was a gravity that couldn’t be faked.
“This is unbelievable…”
The designers trembled at her words. That the commission was truly for Etisha Heinz was shocking enough. But being asked to produce a masterpiece by tonight? Unthinkable.
“Why do you look so surprised? You all use magic, don’t you? This isn’t impossible.”
Etisha looked down on them.
Demanding a Wintel-worthy masterpiece in a single day was extreme.
But not impossible.
Infusing magical energy into the materials would drastically speed up the process, and the resulting works would carry a soft magical glow, creating true masterpieces.
All three designers here were production-type magic users—capable of using magic in their craft.
That was how they became renowned designers in the capital and had the audacity to look down on noblewomen like Etisha.
In the Ignivan Empire, any famed expert was, without exception, a magic user. Their abilities allowed them to perform feats impossible for ordinary people like Etisha.
‘Though even that has its limits…’
As if on cue, Vivian the dressmaker spoke with a troubled expression.
“But… We can’t just recklessly use all our magic! If I pour everything into one dress, I won’t be able to accept any commissions for the next three months!”
She was right. Even magic users weren’t limitless.
Magic accumulates slowly in the body. Once depleted, even the most talented magic user becomes no different from a regular person until it replenishes.
“I see. Then I’ll take that as your refusal, Vivian.”
Etisha smiled at her, radiating calm confidence.
She had no regrets. Soon, she would be leaving for the North anyway.
The other two designers swallowed hard. Suddenly, they feared they had made a terrible mistake.
‘What is with her attitude? Is she really the Duke’s mistress?’
‘I don’t know what’s going on. But if we accept this, we’ll have to close our salons for months. It’s too risky…’
‘If I’d known things would turn out like this, I wouldn’t have treated her so poorly… Why her, of all people…’
Paralyzed by indecision, the designers broke into cold sweat.
They feared offending the Duke by walking away, but they also hesitated to burn through their precious magic reserves.
‘Damn it. What do we do now…?’
Just then, servants entered with tea and refreshments: fragrant hibiscus tea and custard cream cookies.
Etisha sipped her tea leisurely, watching their turmoil.
That’s when a calm, refined voice came from beyond the drawing room door.
“Miss Etisha.”
Low and sensual—it was Duke Cayenne.
“May I come in?”
“Ah, Duke. Please, come in.”
The designers paled even more at his appearance.
Cayenne ignored them completely and approached Etisha. In his hand were a slim document and a small nameplate.
“This is for you.”
It was the deed and ownership plaque for the estate.
“I was a little late confirming the exact boundaries. It turns out this estate includes all the surrounding land as well.”
“The land too…? That’s… impressive.”
“Place your hand on the nameplate. It’ll recognize you.”
Etisha placed her hand on the hexagonal plate. It lit up briefly, acknowledging her as the new owner.
“The transfer is complete. From now on, Miss Etisha is the mistress of this estate.”
The designers gasped. Wondering if they misheard, they glanced around—but all three wore the same stunned expression.
‘The estate? The land? All of it belongs to her…?’
This was far too extravagant to give to just a mistress.
Then, Lucy the jeweler spotted something on Etisha’s left ring finger. It had been hidden under her flowing dress, but now clearly visible was a ring engraved with the Wintel family’s symbol: a snow-eyed eagle.
‘Oh my god.’
Even if she were Cayenne’s hidden mistress, it would be shocking—but she was going to be the Duchess?
Realizing the truth faster than anyone else, Lucy leapt to her feet and bowed deeply to both Cayenne and Etisha.
“It is an honor to be given this opportunity, Duke Wintel. Miss Etisha.”
“……?”
“If you entrust me with this task, I will create a one-of-a-kind masterpiece worthy of the Wintel name!”
The ever-observant shoemaker Nigel stood up as well.
“I, too, will use all the magic I’ve been saving to craft the most beautiful shoes in the empire!”
Only Vivian looked devastated. But she couldn’t stay seated.
“I-I beg your pardon for my earlier rudeness… I’ll do everything I can to create the perfect dress for Miss Etisha.”
All three designers now clung to the commission, desperately trying to recover.
Not one of them had expected this outcome.
