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Chapter 20
Even though she had kindly explained her question, the madam still looked puzzled.
“I’m the owner of this place, yes… but I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what you mean, miss.”
“Madam, do you really think it’s realistic for a woman to open and maintain such an expensive dress shop in this part of town all on her own? Truly?”
“Well…”
Something seemed to click, and the madam’s expression darkened slightly.
I didn’t know exactly what sort of agreement had passed between Yulan and the madam, but it was clearly a different kind of deal than I had imagined.
Did she give full ownership in exchange for a share of the profits? Well, it’s none of my business anyway.
Whatever their arrangement was, all I had to do was deliver my letter and my message.
Given the reply I expected to get, a dress or two as compensation would be a small price to pay.
“I don’t care what you did in exchange for someone’s help, or what that person demanded from you. I just have something to say to them, and all you need to do is deliver it. Is that so difficult?”
For a high noble, that was an exceedingly kind and considerate offer.
After all, the difference in rank between Yevgenia and the madam was such that she could order Yulan brought here and have this woman tortured without anyone daring to question it.
The madam must have realized this belatedly, because after a brief moment of hesitation, she finally spoke.
“Miss, I understand very well how generous your offer is.”
“Mm.”
“But if I were to betray the trust of my investor so easily, who would ever invest in me again? Especially when…”
The madam trailed off and glanced around her shabby dress shop.
I couldn’t help but follow her gaze.
After making sure Yevgenia had taken in the full state of her boutique, the madam continued.
“…Especially when I’m just a failing dressmaker running a dying shop.”
By exposing her own weakness first, the madam had made it difficult for Yevgenia to press further.
Clearly, she’d done it deliberately.
But there was one thing the madam misunderstood—
Yevgenia was someone who would do anything to achieve her goal.
“Then I’ll invest in you instead. How much do you want? A hundred gold? A thousand?”
…And she was more than capable of doing it.
A commoner who ran a decent, moderately successful dress shop might earn about five gold in an entire year.
If she owned a shop in a prime location of the capital—a three-story building where anyone below the rank of count couldn’t even book an appointment—then maybe fifty gold.
So to the madam, who understood that reality all too well, the words a hundred gold, a thousand gold sounded utterly absurd.
Her face went pale as she stammered,
“M–Miss, I don’t know why someone as noble as you would be interested in my investor, but I’m not so foolish as to accept such an unbelievable offer without question.”
“Hmm? An unbelievable offer? And why is that?”
“Well… no matter how wealthy nobles are, that kind of sum is simply too outrageous. Especially for someone as young as yourself—you couldn’t possibly have access to such funds…”
Even while floundering, the madam still managed to get her words out. It seemed convincing her would be a steep uphill climb.
She really didn’t know who she was talking to.
In the heart of the capital—especially in the noble district—there were plenty of people who would scatter like frightened rats at the mere glimpse of her red hair.
That was why she usually didn’t bother going out at all, instead ordering catalogs and having the designers come to her mansion.
She hadn’t enjoyed that practice much, but now it felt oddly inconvenient to have to explain who she was to someone so ignorant.
If I want to convince her without sounding threatening… I’ll have to make it as soft and non-aggressive as possible.
Yevgenia sighed inwardly and checked her watch.
Good. Anna should have just arrived at the bakery. It’s especially crowded around this time, so she won’t be back anytime soon.
That meant she had a little time to teach the madam some “reality.”
Crossing her legs as she sat down on the sofa, Yevgenia gazed calmly at the woman.
The madam, who’d been mumbling uncertainly, sensed something and fell silent.
The boutique grew still, and only Yevgenia looked composed.
“Madam.”
“Y–yes?”
“Which noble house do you think I belong to?”
“…P–pardon?”
It was, in Yevgenia’s mind, a polite question. But to the madam, it sounded like a threat—
A declaration of I’m about to make you regret this.
Trying to hide her trembling hands, the madam carefully replied.
“T–The noble air I sense from you is… um… truly magnificent, overflowing with elegance…”
“Overflowing?”
“I–I mean, perhaps… a count’s daughter?”
That was the highest title a commoner like her dared to utter aloud.
Even imagining anything beyond that made her knees shake.
If the young lady before her were the daughter of a marquis, she could be accused of insulting nobility and executed before she even blinked.
A displeasing look, a disrespectful breath—any petty excuse would be enough for those above.
So the young lady before her couldn’t possibly be higher than that.
No duchess’s daughter or higher would ever come to a place like this, she reasoned.
All she could do now was carefully gauge what reaction this count’s daughter—probably—wanted from her.
Yevgenia, studying the woman’s flickering gaze, rested her chin on her hand.
“The madam is admirable, but lacking imagination… or should I say, information?”
“…Pardon?”
“I’ve never heard of another young lady in this empire with hair as beautiful and red as a rose.”
The madam blinked at Yevgenia, who was twirling the ends of her crimson hair.
Then, suddenly, a phrase flashed through her mind—the red-haired noble lady.
The most famous red-haired lady in the empire was…
“M–m–m–Mar—Mar—Martyr… the D–Duke’s daughter?!”
“‘M-m-m-martyr D-d-duke’s daughter’? What a novel title. I prefer just Lady Martyr.”
The madam looked as though she’d stopped breathing.
No—she truly wasn’t breathing.
Yevgenia gave a soft, amused snort and snapped her fingers—click!
That seemed to snap the madam out of it, and she took a gasping breath.
“H–how, why, I mean—what… why would—”
“I told you. I have business with the person who invested in you.”
“M–Miss—no, Lady Martyr!”
Just speaking the family name made the madam look on the verge of fainting.
Yet, beneath her terror, there was a flicker of resolve that even Yevgenia couldn’t easily brush aside.
Swallowing hard, the madam said,
“I–I’m sorry, Lady Martyr, but even if you were… even if you were Her Highness the Princess herself, I still couldn’t betray the investor who trusted me.”
“Hmm?”
“O–of course, I know that your offer is extremely generous, and that I have no right to refuse something so great, but…”
Her voice trembled as she squeezed her eyes shut, summoning every bit of courage she had.
“E–Even if you take my head—I still won’t betray that person!”
Such determination burned in her eyes that Yevgenia instantly realized—
Well… I suppose persuasion really isn’t my strong suit.
