It went without saying, but Abel Carius was an imperial native.
However, I was someone who had lived through a completely different modern society.
Those dizzying cubic gems, gold leaf, and gaudy floral patterns were impossible for me to get used to.
Staring at them for too long practically made me nauseous.
How on earth did I ever walk around wearing this stuff?
Thinking about it, life had been far more comfortable back in Delriat.
People there mostly wore loose-fitting white clothes.
It was an extremely hot region, after all.
“I can’t go on like this. I need to rewire the brains of these imperial people.”
“Yeees?”
It seemed Cordell McNeil had overheard my muttering, because he made a thoroughly vacant sound.
I didn’t mean literally doing something to people’s heads.
“I mean changing their perception.”
“Ah! So that’s what you meant.”
“You knew and teased me on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Surely no one would think the Empire’s most benevolent and just chief justice would do something like that—”
“I think you might, Sir McNeil.”
“Come now, surely not.”
“There’s even a saying that ‘surely’ is how people end up ruined.”
“Ha-hah!”
Cordell McNeil laughed awkwardly and subtly took a step back.
As if I might suddenly smash his head with my communication rod.
“Y-you’re not serious, right?”
“Of course not. Now, why don’t you come over here and check the outfit’s fit?”
“I’ll pass. I only ever wear armor anyway.”
“You seem to enjoy parties. You could wear it once in a while.”
“It’s for missions. In that case, I’ll be going now.”
Swish—!
Cordell vanished in an instant.
No matter how much I activated Beast’s Heart, I couldn’t sense his presence.
He’d truly hidden himself.
“What a shame. I should’ve started by remodeling that slippery one first.”
I clicked my tongue and turned around.
That was when I saw Martin, his face drained completely white.
He seemed genuinely shocked by how strongly I disliked the outfit.
Well, in the Empire, everyone preferred flashy styles.
“From now on, remove all these decorations. Keep it as simple as possible, and just add a subtle accent. That said, this tie is very well made.”
“…”
I wasn’t sure whether that even counted as praise.
After all, a tie was simple in shape to begin with.
He probably didn’t even know what it was for and just followed the diagram.
After giving my feedback, I was about to dismiss Martin.
I wanted him to hurry up and bring me a proper finished product.
But he suddenly raised his hand.
“May I say one thing?”
“Go ahead. Speak freely.”
“Your Grace’s opinion—I’m afraid it won’t work.”
“What?”
“It isn’t a design imperial people want, and it feels too plain. In other words, it lacks appeal.”
“Ha-ha!”
I let out a small, hollow laugh.
Not because Martin had overstepped.
Anyone was free to voice an opinion.
I had no intention of shutting down fair criticism.
Only loyal advisers spoke harsh truths.
Even so, I had no intention of accepting Martin’s view.
Because the outcome was obvious.
“Care to make a bet?”
“I wouldn’t dare such disrespect—”
“Don’t overthink it. If this style becomes fashionable, what will you do?”
“If that happens, I’ll devote myself completely to making your clothes.”
“So you’ve been half-assing it until now?”
“N-no, of course not!”
“Heh. I know, I know. If I lose, I’ll promote you to my personal tailor. Whatever style you bring me, I’ll wear it without complaint.”
If that happened, Martin’s reputation would skyrocket.
He’d become the exclusive tailor of Duke Carius.
With enough luck, he might even receive a title someday.
Martin’s eyes widened to their absolute limit.
He looked both shocked and overjoyed.
But will things really go your way?
Across East and West, past and present, one truth remained constant.
Fashion was completed by the face.
The morning rush was chaotic.
As soon as I arrived in Perias, I called to the coachman.
“Uncle Brandon, please let me off here.”
“Pardon?”
I was someone who rode all the way to the courthouse every day.
So asking to get off early clearly caught him off guard.
“D-did I make some sort of mistake…?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. I just feel like walking today.”
“Then what should I do?”
“I won’t need the carriage during the day. Let’s meet here again in the evening.”
“Understood.”
When I answered with an utterly relaxed expression, Brandon finally seemed reassured.
Though judging by his face, he still had questions.
I stepped down onto the roadside without bothering to explain further.
Ah, this feels refreshing.
Suit trousers with a bit of room, not skin-tight leggings.
Proper clothing with a belt and even a zipper.
A crisp white shirt on top, a tie, and a jacket lightly cinched at the waist.
It was nothing like the doublets imperial nobles usually wore.
I’d barely walked twenty meters when I felt eyes gathering on me.
My outfit must have looked that unfamiliar.
“Wait—could that be…?”
“Isn’t that Duke Carius?”
“It is!”
“You’ve never even met him. How can you be so sure?”
“Where else would you find someone that handsome?”
“True. Only Duke Carius could shine like that… but isn’t his outfit a bit plain?”
“Yeah. Hardly any decorations.”
The Empire’s broken sense of aesthetics applied to commoners as well.
They were so used to flamboyant clothes that they thought flashy automatically meant good.
“But maybe because he’s so striking, anything he wears looks amazing.”
“His face is the decoration. No need to stick anything else on.”
“Exactly!”
“He’s so tall, too. Come to think of it, those shoes look incredible.”
“They look comfortable. Maybe I should get something like that.”
People always wanted to imitate a famous figure’s fashion.
Just like celebrity endorsements sold products like wildfire.
In the Middle Ages, that role belonged to those in power.
In that sense, I was born with ideal conditions.
Status, position, reputation, looks—I lacked nothing.
I gave light greetings to the citizens I passed.
I couldn’t speak to everyone individually.
There were simply too many people.
Even a brief nod made faces flash by in astonishment.
“D-Duke Carius smiled at me!”
“Oh my! Could it be love at first sight?”
“Wake up. We’re just commoners.”
“When I get married someday, I’ll make my husband wear clothes like that.”
“Get a grip already.”
Spring winds blew through the girls’ hearts.
At first, all attention was on me, but gradually, more talk centered on the clothes.
Many commented on how comfortable they looked.
Modern people would never agree, but this was the Middle Ages.
Leggings and corsets were the norm, and nearly all clothing was tied with strings.
Nobles couldn’t even dress or undress by themselves.
This is more than enough publicity.
I intended to use the crowded morning and evening commutes as my runway.
Inquiries would soon flood in.
After all, most unique and useful items came from the Midias market district.
Just look at nail clippers.
They hadn’t even existed until recently, and now they were daily necessities.
After repeating this a few more times, the reaction finally came.
As if I’d been waiting for it, I opened a clothing shop in Midias.
What poured in, surprisingly enough, were noble households.
Not the high-ranking nobles themselves, of course.
“I am Croven, butler to Baron Elisone. I heard this is where one can purchase… the Duke’s clothing?”
“Hold it. Why does some baronial house get to push in first? We’re from Count Bellingham’s household. Could you make us a single outfit?”
“Does it matter where you’re from? Stop the nonsense and get in line.”
“What did you just say?”
“So what, you want to make this ugly? We’re here on behalf of Marquess Peilune.”
“Ahem! Ahem!”
They came from all sorts of places.
But how had these provincial lords already sent people?
All I’d done was walk along the road during my commute.
Usually they seat their sons as acting lords and come to the capital themselves to secure positions.
All imperial power flowed from the Emperor.
Failing to grasp the situation at the center meant inevitable obsolescence.
That was why everyone clawed their way into the council.
“So? What do you think?”
I turned around with a confident smile.
Martin shook his head in disbelief.
“As expected of Your Grace. When it comes to creating something new and turning it into a trend, no one can match you.”
“Then hurry up and start making clothes. If you want to handle all those customers, you’ll need to move fast.”
“Of course. This is nothing.”
Despite losing the bet, he showed no discomfort at all.
Even with the workload exploding, Martin looked nothing but delighted.
Feels like he takes it as recognition.
Truthfully, his skill was impeccable.
Teach him one thing, and he learned two.
I had a feeling he’d someday become the greatest tailor in the Empire.
“Take their measurements first, then start production. I have something else to take care of.”
“Ah, are you going to deliver the clothes to His Majesty the Emperor?”
“No. Butler Xavier will handle that.”
“I see.”
Thinking it rude to ask further, Martin simply bowed.
I left the Midias market district with a faint smile.
Leaving everyone to work while I slipped away alone?
I’m busy, too. I still need to make clothes for commoners.
The time had finally come to use the massive stockpile of materials I’d been hoarding.
The suits I’d been promoting were only the beginning.
After all, those were for formal occasions.
I wanted to create clothing for everyday wear.
Only then could I bring real, positive change to society.
The impact will be far greater than simply selling fabric cheaply.
Even if materials were inexpensive, clothing prices didn’t drop dramatically.
Some effect, sure, but other costs remained.
You still had to pay a tailor to make the clothes.
That was why home sewing was so common.
“But if factories mass-produce them, that problem disappears.”
You could just buy something in your size and wear it.
Clothes would become far cheaper.
My heart was already pounding at the thought of improving the system.
Then suddenly, a chilling sensation swept over my entire body.
“Huh? What’s this?”
An instant later, a terrifying shockwave erupted with a deafening roar.
It came from the forest at the edge of the Carius Duchy.
KUUU-GUGUGUGU! PUUUNG—!
A mushroom cloud rose without warning.
Standing there dumbfounded, I suddenly realized something.
Didn’t a mentally questionable mage live over there?
“Vargas, you bastard?”