Chapter 95

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 95

Chapter Title: The Atelier's Windfall

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I told Arpad about Gaspal's intrusion without holding anything back.

He'd already sensed an intruder and come rushing over anyway.

That said, I didn't mention my pre-regression connection to Gaspal.

I just said it was obviously some dragon-obsessed mage, and that I'd sold him out for my own safety.

Arpad's face immediately scrunched up.

"Are you really going to hand me over to some stranger?"

This man had a real talent for phrasing things in the weirdest way possible.

I shook my head.

"No. And besides, are you really the type to go quietly?"

"Well... no."

"It was just to get out of the situation. He snuck into the Ivory Bedroom, so he's clearly a powerful mage."

I apologized once more.

"Sorry. I know it was desperate, but I went ahead and sold you out without even asking..."

Arpad gave an unexpected response.

"Nah, it's fine."

"What?"

"You could sell me out a few times. I'd just escape and come back."

It wasn't like he'd been sold to a pet trader and swum across the sea to return home.

No, it felt more like one of those horror story dolls that keeps coming back no matter how many times you toss it away.

The words were so absurd, but honestly, they caught me off guard.

I'd figured he'd be mad about being sold out, even if it was just to escape the situation.

Yet here he was, saying to go ahead and do it as many times as I wanted.

'It's a little touching... no, not really.'

I shook my head firmly.

I wasn't crazy like Arpad.

"I'm not selling you out."

What good would selling a person do?

Besides, I had no desire to become a human trafficker.

The furrows between Arpad's brows smoothed out completely.

"And if I say that, you should at least tell me not to sell you out. You can't say to do it as many times as I want."

I knew it was a joke, but it still made me uncomfortable hearing it.

'It sounds like you have no attachment to yourself at all.'

The thought made my chest tighten.

Arpad tilted his head, but soon nodded in agreement.

"Got it. I'll work on that."

Did it really take effort?

I didn't have time to dwell on it further.

The aftermath hit late—Gaspal's teleportation spell and Arpad smashing through the door.

The knights and palace servants who'd heard the commotion came rushing in, causing an uproar.

"What in the world is going on?"

"An intruder?!"

"Your Highness! Are you all right?"

"Who did this to the door...!"

Arpad and I exchanged a silent glance. We reached an instant agreement.

'Blame the door on the intruder.'

'Yeah.'

In the end, that night marked the first time since arriving at the Crown Prince Palace that we had to sleep somewhere other than the Ivory Bedroom.

Thanks to the chaos, I'd completely forgotten my embarrassment over Arpad seeing everything there was to see.

It only came back to me much later.

After the banquet, Hilia had become the undisputed queen of the capital's social scene.

The Empress was in seclusion, and even the platinum key had fallen into Hilia's hands.

Naturally, the public recognized the shift in power.

The banquet events were so mystical and legendary that everyone was talking about them.

People were dying to know even the tiniest details.

Those who'd witnessed the miracle firsthand boasted and recounted every moment.

"I swear, for a split second, I thought the Crown Princess was draped in the Milky Way itself."

"Oh my, really?"

"Yes! That mystical pale purple dress, sprinkled with pearls from Iliaden Mountain—it sparkled so beautifully in the dim light."

Lucky noblewomen who had seen it described the scene, drawing crowds of those who'd missed out to hang on every word.

This had happened countless times since the Artanus Hall banquet.

It was a vivid symbol of Hilia's popularity and renown.

One topic naturally became the common chatter in the capital's social circles.

"Speaking of which, who made the Crown Princess's dress?"

"Yeah, it hasn't been announced at all."

"Normally, they'd be bragging about it by now, right?"

"That subtle purple was just stunning."

As interest exploded over the dress Hilia wore to the Artanus Hall banquet, whispers of a rumor began to spread.

"I heard it was from Kemal Atelier."

"But that's the place close to Evangeline—or rather, the Ruth Marquis's Daughter."

"That's why they're keeping quiet. They can't completely ignore the Empress and the Ruth girl."

A few quick-eared gossips carried the info far and wide.

The result? Kemal Atelier enjoyed a baffling boom.

Melissa Kemal, the owner and head designer of Kemal Atelier, had been laying low since the banquet.

She figured the Crown Princess, now wielding real imperial power, must have caught on to their scheme.

They'd sent a "gesture of goodwill" in advance, just in case.

Yet now rumors swirled that they had made the Crown Princess's famous dress.

When the whispers first started, Kemal Atelier panicked.

'No, we made the green dress for her maid—not the Crown Princess's dress.'

And that was the one they'd intentionally botched on Evangeline's orders to humiliate Hilia.

Melissa's mind raced.

Her merchant instincts stirred.

'This is a gold mine!'

She played it vague.

"Well, we were summoned to the Crown Prince Palace for fittings..."

She naturally omitted that the banquet dress was something else entirely.

The smoldering rumor exploded.

That iconic dress came from Kemal Atelier!

Customers swarmed like clouds.

"I knew it! Such a beautiful color. Do you have any more of that fabric? I want a dress in that shade too."

"...That fabric is quite rare."

The white lie snowballed.

Melissa broke into a cold sweat.

It was too late to call it a lie—the hype was massive.

"Make me one like the Crown Princess wore!"

"Exactly the same fabric!"

"We can't replicate the Crown Princess's dress precisely, but how about this? It was one of the finalists for the banquet design."

The crowds poured in, and sales skyrocketed daily.

At first, Melissa treaded lightly, wary of the Crown Princess.

But five days passed with no backlash.

She rationalized it.

'That scheme wasn't even our idea. The Crown Princess clearly doesn't care about something so trivial!'

Otherwise, there'd have been word by now.

'She must have liked our gestures.'

The first one the day after the banquet, and the second after hearing the rumors—both hits.

They were forgiven. Approved, even.

Kemal Atelier whooped and ramped up sales.

"This fabric? The Crown Princess praised its feel and color!"

"Oh! I'll take that one then!"

"Me first! Do mine next!"

The jingle of incoming coins rang in her ears.

I glanced indifferently at the torso decked out in a gaudy dress.

"So, where's this from?"

"Kemal Atelier."

"Oh, them?"

"Yes. Once the day after the banquet, and again a few days later."

The ornate box beside the torso was the first gift.

I opened it to find a sapphire necklace inside.

"What should we do with them?"

The dress on the torso seemed to have more jewels than fabric.

It glittered, but flashy more than pretty.

What stood out was the torso's material. I ordered the dress removed.

A heavy, silver-shimmering metal torso emerged.

Up close, scraping the surface flaked off the silver plating, revealing gold underneath.

The entire torso was solid gold.

'Quite the hefty bribe.'

A plea to overlook what they'd done cozying up to Evangeline.

'They've been sucking honey claiming they made my banquet dress while I was out cold for five days.'

I curled my lips into a smile.

'No reason to turn down free money.'

No amount made me obligated to let them off.

The money was mine. Revenge was mine.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Now, how to make them pay?

Thanks to Kemal Atelier's overreach, I had the perfect setup.

'For the debut of the Crown Princess's exclusive designer.'

It'd be a fun little diversion—and a fine message to the entire social scene.