Due to the materials involved, formal wear in this world is actually quite expensive. Cotton shirts, wool coats, silk top hats, and leather shoes—each item commands a considerable price. The set left behind by the body's original owner was among the cheapest street stall goods, yet it still totaled around ten Lande pounds. Anything slightly more upscale would easily cost thirty or forty pounds.
To Lynch, this was an exorbitant price. Even with the extortion money conveniently delivered by the two inspectors, giving him a massive sixty Lande pounds, a single set of clothes would still pain him greatly.
No wonder being able to wear high-end formal wear was, in itself, a status symbol.
Still, he intended to buy a set; after all, some expenses, no matter how steep, simply had to be paid.
Now, someone suddenly offering to pay was, of course, a good thing, but Lynch felt a certain displeasure.
He felt like he was living off someone.
Business is business, and friendship is friendship. If I run out of money, I can earn it myself, scheme for it, or extort it, but I haven't fallen so low as to be kept by someone. I, Lynch, have my pride. Even if I had no clothes and had to run naked, even if I was so poor I had to jump off the Tower of Justice and die, I would never live off someone. No matter what you say, I won't let you buy me clothes.
“No offense, Mr. Lynch.” Noticing Lynch’s strange expression, Miss Valente said softly, “The clothes you usually wear must be from ready-to-wear stores, right? That explains it. No wonder I don't perceive any mystical properties in your attire.”
“Hm? Clothes can have mystical properties?”
“Ordinary clothes, of course, do not. Only master tailors have the ability to imbue properties into garments they personally sew. These aren't powerful properties; mostly, they are minor enhancements, like slightly increased defensive power or a bit more lightness for the body. The effects are quite common, and the imbuing process is troublesome, so powerful Soul Severers aren't particularly interested in them. Often, only nobles or wealthy individuals will prepare one or two pieces for self-defense.”
Her words were subtle, but Lynch immediately understood: these items were likely quite expensive, circulating only among a small elite.
“This is one of the reasons I brought you here today. You are not a Soul Severer who fights physically, yet you frequently contend with mystery. I believe you need some true ‘clothes’ to protect yourself. You are a friend of the Valente family, and we sincerely hope that all our friends remain safe and forever free from the erosion of mystery. So, please accept this gift. When you confront mystery, it will put your friends at ease, won’t it?”
“This…”
“Furthermore, Mr. Lynch, you must understand that this endeavor operates on the premise that someone maliciously pushed you into the spotlight. Every flaw in your attire could become an opening for their sarcasm and ridicule. Ready-to-wear clothing, which cannot avoid minor imperfections, simply won't suffice. It must be custom-made, and personally crafted by a top master tailor. These professional masters are very busy and only accept orders from old clients. Most people, even with Lande pounds in hand, cannot secure their services. Our Valente family happens to have a familiar master who is only willing to serve our family. So, please understand our family's predicament and bear with us. This time, I shall arrange your attire for you. My apologies.”
Why does she make me sound like a fussy kept man? Are nobles really this terrifying when they speak?
Lynch was speechless. After a long silence, he mumbled, “My stomach hasn't been well lately; I can't eat anything too hard.”
“Ah?”
“Nothing. I mean, it’s my honor. Thanks.”
“Pfft, you got it right this time.”
Miss Valente covered her mouth, trembling with laughter, and Lynch's eyes went wide. Only then did she step back in a fluster, blushing and lowering her head, leading Lynch away from the carriage.
It was then that Lynch noticed the young lady had brought him to a very unfamiliar environment.
From the tall buildings, magnificent temples, and the unmistakable Tower of Justice in the distance, it was clear they weren't far from Crown Square. Yet, it was Lynch's first time realizing that Crown District, the heart of Rhine City where every inch of land was as precious as gold, actually contained such a street.
The entire street consisted of a dozen or so residences. The buildings were exquisite and beautiful, and quite spacious, but they were all low-rise, single-story structures, making them particularly conspicuous amidst the surrounding three- and four-story buildings.
“When my grandfather visited Rhine as a child, this was a large settlement of master artisans. Sadly, just over fifty years have passed, and everything has changed. Only a few masters remain here now. Especially in recent years, only the products of cold, hard machines are left. The appearance seems no different, but the spirit is far, far removed. Heh, perhaps the era truly has changed.”
This is the inevitable outcome of industrialization, young lady. Like a steam locomotive fueled with coal, once it starts, it will smash through everything in its path, and no one can stop it.
Approaching an unmarked residence, Miss Valente didn't knock but pushed the door open and entered directly.
The interior was completely different from what Lynch had imagined. There were no neatly arranged shelves, no mountains of fabric, and no startling mannequin models.
It was like a spacious Victorian-style living room, bright and clean. Incense wafted through the air, and melodious tunes emanated from a phonograph, adding a touch of tranquility to the room.
Two young girls were slacking off in a corner of the room. Upon seeing Miss Valente enter, one turned and ran to the back, while the other quickly came forward. Without a word, she smiled and led them to sit on the sofa, serving steaming black tea before curtsying lightly and retreating back to her corner.
“Is it always this quiet here?” Influenced by the atmosphere, Lynch involuntarily lowered his voice.
“Yes, Master Christian prefers quiet when creating.”
“Hm? Christian, is she a lady?”
Miss Valente nodded, a smile gracing her face. “Indeed. It’s just that his hobbies are rather peculiar. You might need some time to get used to them.”
“Little Sloth, you’re talking bad about me again, aren’t you?”
Pfft, an elegant, low voice. Just the appellation nearly made the tea in Lynch’s mouth flow out backwards. This young lady’s unhurried temperament truly resembled a sloth’s. However, glancing at Miss Valente’s twitching folding fan, Lynch dared not let out a single laugh. He quickly straightened his face and looked towards the source of the voice, then mentally whistled.
A very beautiful woman.
She wore a long red dress, tall, slender, and well-proportioned, with captivating charm in her eyes and brows. Every movement exuded femininity. Aside from her makeup being a bit heavy, there were no other flaws to be found.
More importantly, the moment he saw her, a sharp pain shot through Lynch's glabella, accompanied by a simultaneous tremor in his heart.
Soul Severer, mid-tier.
Lynch subconsciously looked at Miss Valente. Seeing the noblewoman subtly nod to him, he finally relaxed.
“Is this the young man? It’s your first time bringing a friend here, Little Sloth. You need it by tomorrow? No problem, his figure is quite standard; we can just assemble it with existing components.”
As he spoke, the tall, elegantly dressed lady walked gracefully towards Lynch on high heels, looking him up and down. Being stared at by such a beautiful woman, Lynch's face soon flushed, and he didn't know where to put his hands.
“The young man is quite handsome, but too scrawny. Not jiejie’s type. Jiejie prefers muscular, handsome men. What a pity.”
Christian, in the red dress, crooked a finger at Lynch:
“Come, come, let jiejie take a look.”
It's fine, it's fine. It's just an older woman taking a bit of advantage. What's the big deal? Anyway, she's the one at a disadvantage, not me.
Taking a deep breath, Lynch gritted his teeth and stood up, spreading his arms, allowing Christian’s soft hands to carefully feel his chest and back.
“Hm, good. Sleeve, number 39. Collar, number 8. Lapel, number 23…”
The beautiful Lady Christian delicately caressed Lynch with her fingers, calling out parts and numbers. Behind him, the two girls, accustomed to this, wrote and drew in their notebooks, recording everything.
Lynch felt the pokes of the fingers on his body, and the more he was poked, the itchier it got, moving lower and lower. Lynch’s face was flushed, and he fidgeted restlessly. Yet, Christian refused to stay in one spot, swaying back and forth in front of Lynch, standing very close. Lynch didn't know where to put his eyes; no matter which direction he looked, he could see Christian’s shadow.
Golden long hair, a full figure, a beautiful face, a prominent Adam's apple, a long red dress, slender high heels.
Wait, what did I just see?
What the hell? This is a man touching me?
The effect of Cat's Favor instantly erupted. Lynch yelped, jumped up on the spot, and darted behind the sofa, glaring angrily at Christian and Miss Valente. Miss Valente, however, blinked, her gaze drifting to the side, looking utterly innocent.
“Hehehe, you found out. What a pity, what a pity. But it’s good that the measurements are taken.”
Christian winked alluringly, snapped his fingers with a smile:
“It’s work time now.”
Swoosh, the entire room changed in an instant.
Rate on N.U.
