If it weren't for the fact that he still had to attend swordsmanship class at
Lorist had the young lady and her maids select their twenty-four favorite princess dress designs and eight formal ladies' gown styles from the fifty-odd patterns he had drawn through the night, then spent an entire morning teaching them how to cut fabric patterns. In the days that followed, the three girls would have to hole up at home and sew these thirty-two sets of women's clothing. Lorist planned to use these thirty-two outfits to create an "Autumn Goddess" collection — a signature line to establish the reputation of their future ladies' boutique.
Before leaving, Lorist encouraged the three girls to let their imaginations run wild, saying that if they thought something was appropriate, they could make changes and variations to his designs. Why? Lorist explained it was to avoid "outfit clashes." What's an outfit clash? Well, it's simple — imagine you go to a party and discover someone else is wearing the exact same outfit as you. How awkward would that be?
Every girl is an angel who has descended from heaven, and each one is unique. That's why their clothes should each have distinctive characteristics, avoiding repetition. Even if garments are made from the same pattern, you can change the details — turn a round collar into a sweetheart neckline, change the color of decorative embroidery, things like that. These are your strengths as girls, and you should make the most of them. Understood?
After Lorist left, Miss Windsor suddenly noticed that her two little maidservants were walking around in a daze, their eyes practically turning into hearts. Half angry and half amused, the young lady gave each of them a good smack: "What's wrong with you two? Lovesick?"
Suzy was murmuring to herself: "'Every girl is an angel who has descended from heaven, and each one is unique.' That's such a beautiful thing to say..."
Lina yelped and rubbed her forehead, complaining: "Miss, that really hurt. But the way Master Lorist was just talking — he was so gentle and so handsome. And Master Lorist is the kind of man who grows more attractive the longer you look at him. Miss, you really found yourself a good boyfriend."
The young lady sighed softly: "Some people say things that sound even prettier than what he says, but it's all hollow and deceptive, and they don't have a fraction of his talent. We need to work hard now too. These clothes are connected to the future of the Windsor Family. We should give it our all."
"Yes, Miss." "Mm, I'll do my best." The two maids nodded in response.
Two days later, Lorist came by again and was startled the moment he walked in — why did all three of them look like rabbits? So pale, with such red eyes? He asked and learned that they had been working through the night on the garments, sleeping only eight hours in three days and barely eating properly. Yet despite all this grueling effort, their productivity was dismal — three days and three nights had only produced four completed outfits.
Lorist slapped his forehead. Silly girls, why not hire people? At this rate, they wouldn't finish all thirty-two Autumn Goddess pieces by the following spring, let alone open for business.
Miss Windsor weakly retorted, "Didn't you say these designs had to be kept secret? We can't let anyone know about them before we open the store."
Lorist said, "That's simple. Your house is actually three connected units — the left one is where Madame Windsor and the young master live, and the right one was going to be rented out. Don't rent it out. Set up a garment workshop there instead, and hire some skilled seamstresses from the neighborhood. You cut and prepare the patterns here, then send them over for the seamstresses to sew and assemble. You just provide guidance and supervision — you don't have to work yourselves to the bone. Even if you earn money, wearing yourselves sick or collapsing won't be worth it."
Miss Windsor nodded. "Fine, we'll do as you say. I'm going to rest now." She yawned and headed upstairs. Suzy and Lina's eyes turned to hearts again: Wow, Master Lorist is so commanding, so manly!
After getting the garment workshop set up, Lorist kept a close eye on things for several days. Once he saw that clothing production and processing were being managed smoothly by Miss Windsor and her two maids, he finally felt at ease and turned his attention to the decoration and furnishing of the two shops on Triumph Avenue.
After visiting the site in person, Lorist quickly put together a redecoration plan, but the costs were rather high — more than sixty gold Forde. This led to Lorist and Miss Windsor's first argument.
The young lady believed money shouldn't be wasted on decorating the shopfronts. As long as the stores were clean and tidy, that was enough. "We're selling clothes — no one's going to stare at pointless decorations."
Lorist patiently argued that only by making the shopfronts opulently luxurious enough to leave people stunned could they elevate the store's prestige. Once the prestige was raised, their garments would naturally appear noble and elegant, standing above the rest. That was the only way they could command high prices — perhaps a single outfit could earn back the entire cost of the decoration.
But no matter how hard Lorist tried to persuade her, Miss Windsor remained unmoved, insisting that a simple setup was sufficient and there was no need for lavish decoration.
Why couldn't this young lady understand such simple logic? Lorist was extremely frustrated. It was Lina who finally whispered the truth to him: Miss Windsor was out of money. The household had only about ten gold Forde left, and it was unclear whether even that would cover the expenses for the house and the garment workshop the following month.
"There's no need for you to worry alone. I'm your boyfriend now. Whatever difficulties we face, we face them together. Here are my savings — one hundred and six gold Forde. That's more than enough to cover the decoration costs and our living expenses for the next two or three months."
The girl stared at him with her beautiful eyes for a long moment, then threw herself into Lorist's arms, tears streaming down her face, clutching him desperately tight.
Lorist gently patted her back. He knew she'd been under enormous emotional strain lately. Ever since learning the news about her father and the family's territory, she'd been bottling everything up. After her pleas for help from every quarter went unanswered and the thought of ending it all took root, what she truly wanted was release — to be done with everything. After he rescued her and she was guided back toward hope — hope of rebuilding the family and reclaiming their lands — it was that hope that drove her to use her charms to latch onto him, wanting his help to run a business and earn money.
Though she found the princess dresses and gowns he'd designed beautiful and wanted them herself, she had no real confidence this business venture would succeed. She didn't know whether the clothes could sell at all. On top of that, the gold Forde they had were flowing away like water — materials, seamstresses, wages — leaving her desperate to sell the garments quickly and recoup some capital. She also knew that being Lorist's girlfriend was about utility, not love, so she felt too ashamed to ask him for help, bearing her worries in silence.
The girl cried harder and harder, as if trying to pour out all the bitterness she'd been holding inside. The two maidservants rushed over but could only stand by and gape, because Miss Windsor wouldn't let go of Lorist. He had no choice but to pat her and comfort her: "Stop crying — if you keep it up, your eyes will swell up. Swollen eyes aren't pretty, and if you're not pretty, I won't want you as my girlfriend anymore."
The girl broke into a tearful smile and pinched Lorist hard: "Don't you dare!"
Then she buried her face back in his chest and continued crying, though her sobs grew softer and softer, until finally... she fell asleep.
From that day on, the girl asked Lorist to call her Wenna — it was her childhood name, her intimate nickname. As her boyfriend, it would be too distant to still call her "Miss Windsor," wouldn't it? Lorist was more than happy to oblige.
Two months later, the Windsor Ladies' Boutique on
Miss Wenna was so anxious she couldn't even eat, with little blisters forming at the corners of her mouth. She complained that Lorist shouldn't have decorated the shop so extravagantly. Now that nobody was coming in, there would be no business, and all the painstakingly sewn garments — including the thirty-two-piece Autumn Goddess collection — would go unsold. She was on the verge of tears again, but Lorist simply stretched languidly: "What's the rush? The time hasn't come yet. This isn't some ordinary ready-to-wear shop. Here, selling one piece can sustain us for a month — we don't need to sell a hundred a day just to break even. The moment the right customer walks in, business will pour in like a flood."
"Hmph, as if I'd believe you..." Miss Wenna continued watching the door outside, equal parts hopeful and anxious.
On the fifth day, the first wave of customers finally arrived. The funny thing was, the one who actually wanted to go in and look was the man — he was the owner of a gold and silver goods shop across the street from the boutique. Ever since the store opened, he'd been burning with curiosity. The sign proclaimed it a "ladies' fashion boutique" — but what exactly did they sell? And why were four
After days of deliberation, he finally mustered the courage to go check it out one morning. At the door, a Silver Knight stopped him: "I'm sorry, sir. Gentlemen are not permitted to enter this establishment."
What? Men can't go in? The shopkeeper was puzzled. The Silver Knight then gestured toward a sign on the wall beside the entrance. It read: *This boutique exclusively retails fine ladies' fashion and accessories. Men are not permitted to enter unaccompanied. A gentleman may enter only when accompanied and vouched for by a lady.* Below that, in gold lettering: *This is an upscale ladies' establishment. Male companions are expected to maintain gentlemanly decorum.* The shopkeeper trudged back to his own store in a foul mood, miserable for the rest of the morning. At lunch, his wife asked what was wrong, and he told her about being turned away at the door. His wife was a formidable woman. "So men can't go in alone, is that it? This afternoon, your wife and daughter will accompany you. Two women and one man — surely that'll be enough to get in."
With the wife vouching for her husband and the daughter vouching for her father, the shopkeeper was allowed inside. But he quickly regretted it — because his wife and daughter had nearly lost their minds. The dresses and gowns draped on those wooden mannequins, illuminated by the crystal chandeliers overhead, radiated an almost magical allure.
"Oh heavens, what beautiful dresses..." his wife murmured dreamily.
"I want it — this is the dress from my dreams, it's mine..." That was the daughter, her eyes completely lost in the garments before her, seeing nothing else.
The shopkeeper stared in trembling horror at the price tags hanging beneath the clothes on the mannequins. Each number made his soul quiver. Since when had the price of a single garment been denominated in gold coins? And gold Forde at that?
It was all so mysterious and yet so dazzlingly radiant. But the number 188 on the tag below immediately snapped the shopkeeper back to reality. He stepped forward and grabbed his wife's arm, trying to leave.
But his wife's feet seemed to have taken root in the polished floor — no amount of pulling could budge her. The helpless shopkeeper pointed to the price tag, hoping his wife would come to their senses: they simply couldn't afford it. To his shock, she swatted his hand away and hissed, "My private savings are enough."
Just then, a heavenly voice sounded beside the shopkeeper's ear: "I must inform you, distinguished lady and sir, that this evening gown is called 'Nocturne.' Without a noble title, one is not eligible to purchase it."
Overjoyed, the shopkeeper dragged his crestfallen wife away from the Nocturne gown. For the first time in his life, he felt genuinely grateful toward the nobility — it had saved him how much? One hundred and eighty-eight gold Forde. That was enough for an entire year of hard labor.
But the shopkeeper celebrated too soon. In the end, his wife and daughter spent a total of fifty-six gold Forde in the boutique. He simply couldn't understand why a single piece of women's casual wear cost a whole gold coin — at the ready-to-wear shops outside, you could buy dozens for that price. But the look in his wife's eyes made one thing crystal clear: if he said no, tonight he'd be kneeling at the bedside rather than sleeping in it.
Well, actually, the ambiance inside the shop was quite pleasant, and the service was impeccable. He'd never been pampered like this in his life — sipping fragrant tea, nibbling on delicious pastries, lounging on leather sofas in complete comfort. Since both his wife and daughter had selected an evening gown, they were escorted to the second floor, where specialists adjusted the garments to their measurements on the spot for a more flattering fit.
Three days later, the shopkeeper attended a thank-you banquet hosted by the gold and silver merchants' trade association with his wife and daughter. He discovered that his rather plain-looking wife and daughter had become the center of attention at the event — like a noble queen and a beautiful princess, the two evening gowns shimmered on their figures, dazzling and radiant. Countless eyes followed their every move; they were the stars of the banquet. The shopkeeper suddenly realized that those few dozen gold Forde had been more than worth it.
From that day forward, private luxury carriages began pulling up one after another in front of the Windsor Ladies' Boutique. Noble ladies and young misses flooded through the doors like moths drawn to flame. The shop was packed to capacity, and Lorist had no choice but to prohibit male companions from entering, setting up tea tables and chairs in the small plaza outside for waiting gentlemen. He even opened a tea bar on the plaza. Before long, a saying spread through Morant City: "Where have all the lords and nobles gone? Drinking tea and sunbathing on Triumph Avenue."
At the end-of-month settlement, Miss Wenna stared dumbfounded at the pile of coins on the table that had grown into a small mountain. "Did we really earn all this?"
Lina was getting exasperated: "It's real, Miss. That's the seventh time you've asked me. I'll say it one last time — there are exactly three thousand and eighty-three gold Forde on this table, all earned this month!"
Miss Wenna suddenly jumped up and launched herself at Lorist, who was watching them with a smile, and planted a kiss square on his lips: "Thank you, thank you..."
"Ow! That hurts, you silly girl — that was a bite, not a kiss! And wait, that wasn't your first kiss, was it? Here, let me teach you."
The two figures merged together once more.
Lina said, "How embarrassing..." covering her face with her hands, then peering through her parted fingers, watching the kissing couple with wide eyes.