Before the Queen's Birthday Banquet, Candelabrum Street, home to Medea's shops stocking the latest fashions, was teeming with people. At Barbara's insistence that we go shopping together, I took her car and drove there with her.
The dress code for birthday parties was extravagant party dresses, and it seemed many women wanted to attract attention on such a significant day. Many even saved or borrowed money for the ball. It was a day of opportunity, offering opportunities to find a suitable spouse, make business connections, or even catch the eye of a Queen or Princess.
The items and jewelry displayed in the shop, imported from distant lands, were quite expensive, but Barbara readily bought whatever she could get her hands on. She even gifted expensive shoes to Mary, the daughter of a poor Count who had come with her.
"Oh, a low-class nouveau riche has arrived. Madam, you should consider the standards of this place."
A high-pitched voice mocked Barbara. She ran into the unsightly Olivia at the last dress shop she'd visited. Carrying Erita on her back, she looked Barbara up and down with a haughty expression. The innocent dress shop owner, Madame Geneva, stood there, smiling awkwardly.
"The Princess has offered me the position of maid of honor. Now, you won't dare look down on me or be rude to me, will you? Barbara Chelsea."
Barbara retorted, stroking the hem of the silk dress with the silver lion embroidery on display.
“Is there really nothing to brag about?”
“So now I don’t owe anything to your family.”
“Is that so? Madam, what brand is this?”
Barbara turned her head towards Madame Geneva, as if she didn't want to deal with her any longer.
"This is a Francia import. It's a brand new product that just arrived in the country."
Olivia snatched the dress Barbara was showing interest in and raised her chin proudly.
“I’ll buy this, madam.”
“Thank you. 2500 pounds, Miss Daywood.”
The costume shop staff busily took Olivia's measurements and began recommending matching shoes, accessories, and hats. Barbara snorted.
“Madam, please show me a more expensive product than that.”
“Yes, this is a top-of-the-line satin dress, and it costs 5,000 pounds.”
“No, I’ll buy that one instead of this one.”
Olivia quickly intervened, trying to intercept. Barbara clicked her tongue and looked away, as if searching for another dress.
“It seems that Countess Rotsilt Rossilt has a discerning eye.”
Madame Geneva spoke to me.
I was lost in thought, staring at the black dress displayed in the glass case, leaving the two proud women in a showdown behind. She smiled sweetly and introduced the dress. She said there were only three in the country, two already bought by high-ranking nobles, and one was left because a reservation had been canceled. Her words piqued my desire to buy.
"It was handcrafted, one by one, by three designers in our atelier. The silk tulle skirt, with its elegant ripples that ripple with every step, is a striking feature. It's adorned with diamonds, beads, crystals, and embroidery. It's also called the Queen of the Night. Doesn't it remind you of the Milky Way and the stars dotting the night sky?"
Olivia, a temperamental girl, came up to me and stood with her arms crossed, asking Madame the price.
“Seventy thousand pounds, Miss Daywood.”
Olivia's eyes widened. That dress isn't just pretty for nothing. I can't afford a dress worth hundreds of millions of won. Since I've been here, I've often felt a pang of regret for not having enough money, and because of that, I've given up more and more things. Perhaps that's why I feel a little more proactive than I used to. They say human desire and motivation stem from lack. I think I understand why that's so important.
“Why don’t you ask for that, Lady Daywood?”
“Can’t you afford it either? Barbara Chelsea.”
The two women were still bickering. Eventually, Barbara went into the dressing room to try on another dress, and Olivia's arrows turned back to me.
"Ah, if your husband had been a Duke, the Count would have easily bought it for you. What a pity, isn't it? He abandoned his vast fortune and went into exile for your sake."
"Aren't you still quite wealthy? I already knew you were quite wealthy, but I'm not sure exactly how much it was for everyone to express it that way." Olivia added, seeing my expressionless face.
"In the past, the Rotsilt family amassed enormous wealth through war, operating numerous businesses centered around the world's largest steel company, and also owning vast tracts of land rich in natural resources. Did you know?"
“You’ve been very interested in my husband, Miss Daywood.”
"Of course. The Rotsilt family crest is engraved on railways laid across the world. If they had continued to exist, they would have become the most powerful family in the world. They could even influence international politics. That's how great they are."
Olivia's face grew increasingly etched as she recited Noah, and her voice rose in pitch. She seemed consumed by longing and fantasy, and it made me feel uneasy.
"Yes."
“You know what I mean, ma’am.”
"I don't know. I don't even plan on asking to buy it for me. These days, I earn money and buy it myself."
“It was you, Madam, who turned such a great man into a traitor and caused him to lose his wealth, honor, and fame.”
It seems she's crossing the line like this just because she has a Princess as a supporter. I don't understand why she's interfering with our affairs like this.
I was getting irritated, but I tried to calm myself down. Experience has shown me that expressing your emotions unfiltered by getting angry or yelling isn't the smartest approach.
It's a device that's clearly meant to stoke anger, and it seems to acknowledge weakness. Calling a poor person a beggar angers them, but calling a rich person a beggar just makes them laugh it off. So, those who want to laugh at others' misfortunes and weaknesses actually crave such a strong reaction. I didn't feel the need to react so strongly to each and every one of these annoying, materialistic people.
"Isn't that amazing? Giving up everything just for me? Don't be too jealous. Miss Daywood, you'll meet someone like that someday."
Olivia, who had been twisting her lips, quickly covered her mouth with the back of her hand and forced a laugh.
“What I mean is, it doesn’t suit you. Like that dress and you, Madam.”
“It suits you.”
Suddenly, a familiar, low-pitched voice cut in. Olivia and I both turned around in surprise.
Noah, wearing a dark gray suit, almost black, and a chain boutonniere with a jeweled detail on his chest, raised one eyebrow and frowned. His brow was slightly furrowed, as if he was in a bad mood. His hair was naturally slicked back with pomade. Embarrassed, Olivia hastily touched her hair and adjusted her attire.
“Ah. Hello, Count.”
"That kind of thing only suits those who can afford it. Are you trying to say that it suits you?"
“That’s not what I meant, Count. I guess it’s because your wife is short...”
“We can get all that tailored. And my wife is prettier than you.”
Why do you only offer solutions when he says I'm short and doesn't say anything? I feel a little disappointed. Olivia's face flushed bright red with embarrassment. I looked at Noah, who had suddenly appeared, and asked.
“How did you get here?”
“I came to buy that. I heard the reservation was canceled.”
Noah nodded and pointed to a dress worth 70,000 pounds. Behind him, Vincent and a servant carrying a full suitcase appeared. Olivia stood there, her mouth shut, as if she had swallowed honey, frowning.
"Madam! How do you like this dress? Doesn't it match my complexion perfectly?"
Barbara, who was busily approaching Noah, holding the hem of the rose quartz dress she was trying on, exclaimed at the sight of him.
“Wow! How did you find out about this place?”
“You’re so rude every time I see you. Your voice is loud, just like the Commander’s.”
Noah disliked Barbara. She was loud and unruly, but the biggest reason was that she kept calling me out.
Barbara paid no heed to Noah's disapproving gaze. Her gaze was fixed on Vincent, the tall, sharp secretary in a sharp suit standing behind him. Then, she whispered to me in a secret tone.
"Who is that tall, handsome gentleman? He has dark brown hair and captivating eyes. He looks like a handsome cookie."
She was quite fond of cookies, and she used to say that if she ever had a boyfriend, she'd call him "Cookie." I glanced at Vincent and asked her in a low voice.
“What about that officer cookie that you’re contacting?”
“As of today, I have changed to that man.”
She had a very reed-like heart. I took the anxious Barbara to Vincent and introduced her.
"Miss Chelsea, this is Vincent Ford, my husband's secretary. He primarily handles secretarial work and is also my husband's business partner."
“Oh, nice to meet you. My name is Barbara Chelsea.”
Vincent's soulless, wheat-colored eyes turned to Barbara, whose cheeks were flushed. He maintained a gentlemanly demeanor, his face indifferent.
"Greetings, Lady Chelsea. I am Vincent Ford. I have been excommunicated from the Count Ford family and am being exploited as a slave by Mr. Rotsilt."
“Oh my... how could you be so sad?”
"Yes. It's really sad. I always yearn for freedom."
Barbara's eyes brightened as she gazed at Vincent's expressionless, listless face. She seemed to like him quite a bit.
"Of course. Freedom should be respected. My father worked to free slaves in the past."
“Can I be liberated too?”
“Yes... maybe.”
Barbara placed a hand on her cheek, which was flushed pink like her dress, and muttered dreamily. She was clearly in love.
Noah, who had just finished paying and signing, came over and grabbed my hand. His face looked dissatisfied.
"I was going to give you a surprise gift, but I got caught. It's all the Commander's daughter's fault."
“Thank you, I was already surprised. Shall we go back together?”
I looked at him and smiled kindly.
Vincent and Barbara were conversing about something. Olivia, who had stepped back and was glaring, seemed isolated. Noah tapped Vincent on the shoulder and made a suggestion.
“Come have a cup of tea. There’s a fun cafe two blocks away.”
“The cafe is fun. Isn’t it interesting, Mr. Ford?”
Barbara smiled and looked at Vincent, who nodded, pulling his neatly tied tie taut.
"I, a slave, will continue my conversation with this woman about freedom and emancipation before returning, Master Rotsilt."
“You know you’ll get whipped when you come back.”
After exchanging some silly banter with Vincent, Noah offered me his elbow as if escorting me. I saw a black car parked in front of the costume shop. A familiar snout poked out through the slightly open back window. It seemed Noah had brought Boaz out. I looked up at Noah and asked.
“You take such good care of Boaz, don’t you?”
"Yes."
"Why?"
It might seem strange to ask why, since we are the owners, but he is not naturally that way, so I was curious.
"I don't know."
It was Noah's answer. Just like the answer he gave before we were married, when I asked him why he liked me. I read a familiar emotion faintly passing through his concise reply and expressionless face.
The dress code for birthday parties was extravagant party dresses, and it seemed many women wanted to attract attention on such a significant day. Many even saved or borrowed money for the ball. It was a day of opportunity, offering opportunities to find a suitable spouse, make business connections, or even catch the eye of a Queen or Princess.
The items and jewelry displayed in the shop, imported from distant lands, were quite expensive, but Barbara readily bought whatever she could get her hands on. She even gifted expensive shoes to Mary, the daughter of a poor Count who had come with her.
"Oh, a low-class nouveau riche has arrived. Madam, you should consider the standards of this place."
A high-pitched voice mocked Barbara. She ran into the unsightly Olivia at the last dress shop she'd visited. Carrying Erita on her back, she looked Barbara up and down with a haughty expression. The innocent dress shop owner, Madame Geneva, stood there, smiling awkwardly.
"The Princess has offered me the position of maid of honor. Now, you won't dare look down on me or be rude to me, will you? Barbara Chelsea."
Barbara retorted, stroking the hem of the silk dress with the silver lion embroidery on display.
“Is there really nothing to brag about?”
“So now I don’t owe anything to your family.”
“Is that so? Madam, what brand is this?”
Barbara turned her head towards Madame Geneva, as if she didn't want to deal with her any longer.
"This is a Francia import. It's a brand new product that just arrived in the country."
Olivia snatched the dress Barbara was showing interest in and raised her chin proudly.
“I’ll buy this, madam.”
“Thank you. 2500 pounds, Miss Daywood.”
The costume shop staff busily took Olivia's measurements and began recommending matching shoes, accessories, and hats. Barbara snorted.
“Madam, please show me a more expensive product than that.”
“Yes, this is a top-of-the-line satin dress, and it costs 5,000 pounds.”
“No, I’ll buy that one instead of this one.”
Olivia quickly intervened, trying to intercept. Barbara clicked her tongue and looked away, as if searching for another dress.
“It seems that Countess Rotsilt Rossilt has a discerning eye.”
Madame Geneva spoke to me.
I was lost in thought, staring at the black dress displayed in the glass case, leaving the two proud women in a showdown behind. She smiled sweetly and introduced the dress. She said there were only three in the country, two already bought by high-ranking nobles, and one was left because a reservation had been canceled. Her words piqued my desire to buy.
"It was handcrafted, one by one, by three designers in our atelier. The silk tulle skirt, with its elegant ripples that ripple with every step, is a striking feature. It's adorned with diamonds, beads, crystals, and embroidery. It's also called the Queen of the Night. Doesn't it remind you of the Milky Way and the stars dotting the night sky?"
Olivia, a temperamental girl, came up to me and stood with her arms crossed, asking Madame the price.
“Seventy thousand pounds, Miss Daywood.”
Olivia's eyes widened. That dress isn't just pretty for nothing. I can't afford a dress worth hundreds of millions of won. Since I've been here, I've often felt a pang of regret for not having enough money, and because of that, I've given up more and more things. Perhaps that's why I feel a little more proactive than I used to. They say human desire and motivation stem from lack. I think I understand why that's so important.
“Why don’t you ask for that, Lady Daywood?”
“Can’t you afford it either? Barbara Chelsea.”
The two women were still bickering. Eventually, Barbara went into the dressing room to try on another dress, and Olivia's arrows turned back to me.
"Ah, if your husband had been a Duke, the Count would have easily bought it for you. What a pity, isn't it? He abandoned his vast fortune and went into exile for your sake."
"Aren't you still quite wealthy? I already knew you were quite wealthy, but I'm not sure exactly how much it was for everyone to express it that way." Olivia added, seeing my expressionless face.
"In the past, the Rotsilt family amassed enormous wealth through war, operating numerous businesses centered around the world's largest steel company, and also owning vast tracts of land rich in natural resources. Did you know?"
“You’ve been very interested in my husband, Miss Daywood.”
"Of course. The Rotsilt family crest is engraved on railways laid across the world. If they had continued to exist, they would have become the most powerful family in the world. They could even influence international politics. That's how great they are."
Olivia's face grew increasingly etched as she recited Noah, and her voice rose in pitch. She seemed consumed by longing and fantasy, and it made me feel uneasy.
"Yes."
“You know what I mean, ma’am.”
"I don't know. I don't even plan on asking to buy it for me. These days, I earn money and buy it myself."
“It was you, Madam, who turned such a great man into a traitor and caused him to lose his wealth, honor, and fame.”
It seems she's crossing the line like this just because she has a Princess as a supporter. I don't understand why she's interfering with our affairs like this.
I was getting irritated, but I tried to calm myself down. Experience has shown me that expressing your emotions unfiltered by getting angry or yelling isn't the smartest approach.
It's a device that's clearly meant to stoke anger, and it seems to acknowledge weakness. Calling a poor person a beggar angers them, but calling a rich person a beggar just makes them laugh it off. So, those who want to laugh at others' misfortunes and weaknesses actually crave such a strong reaction. I didn't feel the need to react so strongly to each and every one of these annoying, materialistic people.
"Isn't that amazing? Giving up everything just for me? Don't be too jealous. Miss Daywood, you'll meet someone like that someday."
Olivia, who had been twisting her lips, quickly covered her mouth with the back of her hand and forced a laugh.
“What I mean is, it doesn’t suit you. Like that dress and you, Madam.”
“It suits you.”
Suddenly, a familiar, low-pitched voice cut in. Olivia and I both turned around in surprise.
Noah, wearing a dark gray suit, almost black, and a chain boutonniere with a jeweled detail on his chest, raised one eyebrow and frowned. His brow was slightly furrowed, as if he was in a bad mood. His hair was naturally slicked back with pomade. Embarrassed, Olivia hastily touched her hair and adjusted her attire.
“Ah. Hello, Count.”
"That kind of thing only suits those who can afford it. Are you trying to say that it suits you?"
“That’s not what I meant, Count. I guess it’s because your wife is short...”
“We can get all that tailored. And my wife is prettier than you.”
Why do you only offer solutions when he says I'm short and doesn't say anything? I feel a little disappointed. Olivia's face flushed bright red with embarrassment. I looked at Noah, who had suddenly appeared, and asked.
“How did you get here?”
“I came to buy that. I heard the reservation was canceled.”
Noah nodded and pointed to a dress worth 70,000 pounds. Behind him, Vincent and a servant carrying a full suitcase appeared. Olivia stood there, her mouth shut, as if she had swallowed honey, frowning.
"Madam! How do you like this dress? Doesn't it match my complexion perfectly?"
Barbara, who was busily approaching Noah, holding the hem of the rose quartz dress she was trying on, exclaimed at the sight of him.
“Wow! How did you find out about this place?”
“You’re so rude every time I see you. Your voice is loud, just like the Commander’s.”
Noah disliked Barbara. She was loud and unruly, but the biggest reason was that she kept calling me out.
Barbara paid no heed to Noah's disapproving gaze. Her gaze was fixed on Vincent, the tall, sharp secretary in a sharp suit standing behind him. Then, she whispered to me in a secret tone.
"Who is that tall, handsome gentleman? He has dark brown hair and captivating eyes. He looks like a handsome cookie."
She was quite fond of cookies, and she used to say that if she ever had a boyfriend, she'd call him "Cookie." I glanced at Vincent and asked her in a low voice.
“What about that officer cookie that you’re contacting?”
“As of today, I have changed to that man.”
She had a very reed-like heart. I took the anxious Barbara to Vincent and introduced her.
"Miss Chelsea, this is Vincent Ford, my husband's secretary. He primarily handles secretarial work and is also my husband's business partner."
“Oh, nice to meet you. My name is Barbara Chelsea.”
Vincent's soulless, wheat-colored eyes turned to Barbara, whose cheeks were flushed. He maintained a gentlemanly demeanor, his face indifferent.
"Greetings, Lady Chelsea. I am Vincent Ford. I have been excommunicated from the Count Ford family and am being exploited as a slave by Mr. Rotsilt."
“Oh my... how could you be so sad?”
"Yes. It's really sad. I always yearn for freedom."
Barbara's eyes brightened as she gazed at Vincent's expressionless, listless face. She seemed to like him quite a bit.
"Of course. Freedom should be respected. My father worked to free slaves in the past."
“Can I be liberated too?”
“Yes... maybe.”
Barbara placed a hand on her cheek, which was flushed pink like her dress, and muttered dreamily. She was clearly in love.
Noah, who had just finished paying and signing, came over and grabbed my hand. His face looked dissatisfied.
"I was going to give you a surprise gift, but I got caught. It's all the Commander's daughter's fault."
“Thank you, I was already surprised. Shall we go back together?”
I looked at him and smiled kindly.
Vincent and Barbara were conversing about something. Olivia, who had stepped back and was glaring, seemed isolated. Noah tapped Vincent on the shoulder and made a suggestion.
“Come have a cup of tea. There’s a fun cafe two blocks away.”
“The cafe is fun. Isn’t it interesting, Mr. Ford?”
Barbara smiled and looked at Vincent, who nodded, pulling his neatly tied tie taut.
"I, a slave, will continue my conversation with this woman about freedom and emancipation before returning, Master Rotsilt."
“You know you’ll get whipped when you come back.”
After exchanging some silly banter with Vincent, Noah offered me his elbow as if escorting me. I saw a black car parked in front of the costume shop. A familiar snout poked out through the slightly open back window. It seemed Noah had brought Boaz out. I looked up at Noah and asked.
“You take such good care of Boaz, don’t you?”
"Yes."
"Why?"
It might seem strange to ask why, since we are the owners, but he is not naturally that way, so I was curious.
"I don't know."
It was Noah's answer. Just like the answer he gave before we were married, when I asked him why he liked me. I read a familiar emotion faintly passing through his concise reply and expressionless face.
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