“Clara, don’t you think His Grace, the Duke of Irnosie, might like you?”
What kind of nonsense was that supposed to be?
Clara Boarne stopped her sewing and looked at the girl who had just made that ridiculous remark.
“Well, think about it. The duke had never once set foot in this atelier before, but ever since you arrived, he’s been coming here so often that he’s practically wearing down the doorstep! And what’s more, he doesn’t even ask the manager, he asks you to make Lady Erna’s dresses. He even dotes on Cookie.”
The little poodle, Cookie, who was lying quietly beside Clara’s lap, perked his ears backward at the sound of his name.
Now that she thought about it, it was indeed a bit strange.
Florite Atelier was among the top three ateliers favored by nobles in the capital, but it wasn’t the kind of establishment that someone like the duke of the prestigious House of Irnosie would normally use.
But about a month after Clara began working there, the Duke of Irnosie had suddenly walked in, holding the hand of his younger sister.
Golden hair that seemed as if melted from pure sunlight, and deep blue eyes brimming with melancholy.
It was like a marble statue from the temple had come alive—so breathtaking that the atelier staff nearly lost their sight that day.
Rupert Irnosie stopped dead in his tracks when he saw something.
Right in front of Cookie.
“What is its name?”
Hey, hey. Clara. He’s asking for you!
Pushed forward by the other staff, Clara had no choice but to step out.
“I greet Your Grace, the Duke of Irnosie. This little one’s name is Cookie.”
“Cookie. Erna, did you hear?”
The adorable young girl with the same blonde hair and blue eyes as Rupert nodded her head.
She clung to Rupert’s hand and peeked out shyly from behind him, looking at the employees.
“Nice to meet you, Cookie.”
The duke, usually so expressionless, gave Cookie a gentle smile, and every staff member’s heart skipped a beat.
Cookie only tilted his head with his round black eyes wide open.
“Are you its owner?”
Rupert’s gaze shifted to Clara.
“Ah, yes. That’s right.”
“What is your name?”
“Clara Boarne…?”
Clara could hardly understand the situation.
The Duke of Irnosie had suddenly appeared in Florite Atelier, and of all things, he was asking for her and her dog’s names?
“Miss Boarne. I would like to entrust you with Erna’s dress.”
Gasp.
The staff collectively inhaled.
Entrusting a dress to Clara? A girl who had only been here for a month and was still doing simple cutting and sewing work?
So suddenly?
Hearing the news, Madame Florite herself hurriedly rushed out of her office.
“Oh my, Your Grace, the Duke of Irnosie. What an honor it is for our atelier to receive your visit. But unfortunately, this child has only just started here and isn’t skilled enough yet to be entrusted with Lady Erna’s dresses. If it pleases you, I can personally—”
“I said I want to entrust it to Miss Boarne.”
Rupert cut her off firmly. Next to him, Erna nodded eagerly.
“Hohoho, of course. That was exactly what I had in mind. Please, this way, I’ll show you to the guest salon and the design portfolio, Your Grace, Lady Erna.”
Florite quickly added this, worried the duke might leave the shop altogether.
She thought that even if Clara couldn’t do it, someone else could secretly make the dress in her stead.
But Clara successfully completed the task given to her.
From then until now, she had made seven outfits for Erna. And she had been able to manage it only because she carried two secrets she could tell no one.
At any rate, Rupert had noticed Clara from the very beginning. It was a situation easy enough for anyone to mistake as romantic interest.
After all, he was unmarried, with no lover.
“Look, the Duke of Irnosie’s carriage has arrived! Clara, hurry, go meet him!”
Her colleague Aileen fanned herself and fussed.
Rupert stepped out of his carriage with an oddly grave expression and strode into the atelier.
Clara hurried down the stairs and greeted him politely. Cookie followed, bowing his little head politely as if he were human.
Rupert, looking pressed for time, spoke without any preamble.
“Miss Boarne, I’ve never done this before, so I don’t quite know how to say it…”
He closed his mouth and stroked his jaw. This time, Erna wasn’t with him.
“But today, I must tell you.”
His voice was resolute.
Today?
Is this… the confession?
Clara gulped unconsciously. The staff, hiding and watching, nearly stopped breathing.
“Cookie, what must I do for you to become my dog?”
“…Pardon?”
Clara answered blankly, uncharacteristically slow-witted. Cookie blinked his big eyes rapidly in confusion.
My goodness.
It wasn’t Clara Rupert wanted.
It was her dog, Cookie.
The Origin of the Incident
It all went back to a few months prior.
After her mother’s funeral, Clara fell ill with grief and spent days bedridden, lost in a long dream.
In the dream, her name had been Han Yoomin, a promising fashion designer.
When she awoke, she realized that she was a reincarnated soul from another world.
Cookie padded over to her, nudging her lovingly with his nose. His damp snout left a stain on her dress.
Astonishingly, in her past life as Han Yoomin, she had also owned a poodle named Cookie.
Could this be a coincidence?
At that moment, Cookie opened his little black mouth and spoke.
“Clara, you okay?”
Clara was dumbfounded.
“Cookie… you can talk?”
Unbelievable!
“Am I going insane?”
She staggered upright, almost collapsing in shock.
Cookie blinked his shiny eyes and licked his nose with his long tongue.
“You’re not crazy. When I remembered, I gained the ability to speak. We were together before too. Don’t be too sad. You still have me.”
Cookie placed his tiny curly brown paw gently on her leg.
“Really? Cookie, you mean you’re the same Cookie who lived with me in my previous life?”
“Mm-hm.”
Cookie nodded.
When Han Yoomin reincarnated as Clara, Cookie had come along with her.
Tears welled up in Clara’s eyes again.
“Cookie!”
She scooped him up and hugged him tightly.
Whatever had happened, her beloved dog from her past life was still with her in this one—and now, she had someone she could truly talk to in her lonely world. Emotion overwhelmed her.
Clara wasn’t alone.
Cookie buried his muzzle against her chest.
“Ugly but precious friend…”
“…What?”
Her dog’s candid assessment of her looks was merciless.
“…You’ve thought I was ugly all this time?”
“Everyone thinks so.”
“No, that’s a lie.”
“It’s true.”
When Cookie barked “Woof!”, all the other dogs barked in chorus—woof, arf, bow-wow. Poodles, bulldogs, labradors… every breed.
They were the twenty stray dogs Clara’s late mother had once rescued, whom she and Clara had raised together.
“See? They think you’re ugly too.”
Clara set Cookie down.
She let out a hollow laugh. It was the first time she’d smiled since losing her mother.
“You. Down.”
Cookie gave a snuffling blow of his nose and looked back at her with round eyes.
“But what do we eat now?”
Clara sighed, exhaustion weighing on her voice.
“I’ll have to work myself to death.”
“Death? Clara, are you going to die like Mom?”
Cookie’s eyes suddenly filled with tears.
“No, no! I won’t die! It’s just an expression.”
Clara hurried to soothe him.
“What kind of work? I’ll help too.”
“It’s okay. Just stay by my side like you always do.”
Clara suddenly realized how strange it was to be chatting so naturally with her dog. Fear pricked her.
“Cookie, I’m glad I can share my heart with you. But…”
“Mm?”
“It’s scary, too, that you can speak so fluently. Not that I’m scared of you—but if someone else finds out, they might take you away. Bad people could sell you to a circus or to some creepy magician for experiments. So this must stay our secret. Just the two of us.”
Clara’s voice was serious.
She didn’t want to lose her family ever again. Dogs already lived short lives. Just imagining Cookie, now five years old, someday leaving her made her heart split into a thousand pieces.
Cookie’s tail drooped. He had hoped speaking would help her, but he understood exactly what she meant.
“Okay…”
He would obey, if that was what it took to stay with Clara.
Clara smiled and crouched, ruffling his curly head fur before hugging him tightly.
“Cookie, you’re my luck. Let’s live together for a long, long time!”
Then, looking at the other dogs gathered around, she added:
“And you guys, too—I’ll make sure you’re all happy!”
The house filled with laughter and barking as the sunset streamed in.
Before long, angry shouts from outside—“Shut those dogs up!”—forced her to hush them quickly, but still…
While the dogs stayed with her, Clara vowed to care for them as best as she could.
And then, she found work.
As an apprentice designer at Florite Atelier.
