Chapter 11
Before the princess came to the Empire, I heard the business couldn’t find a breakthrough and suffered enormous losses.
Fortunately, after the princess arrived and thanks to her ideas, the merchant guild in charge of the business found a breakthrough, and since then, textiles from the Maritime Kingdom had become a trend in the Empire.
Belia glanced at the delighted Marquis.
By my estimation, our family’s merchant guild would likely suffer similar headaches with textiles.
It’s a state-led business, so we couldn’t just drop it, and it needed to be profitable. I could already see that joyful face darkening soon.
“So, when will the textiles arrive?”
“Probably as soon as the review process is over.”
“I see.”
The Marquis answered Barun’s question.
She turned her head and briefly glanced at Barun.
Barun was ambitious—not just for the family but for the guild too.
He wanted to expand his influence in the guild, so he would likely get deeply involved in the textile business.
The faint glimmer of expectation in his eyes, which had been cold just moments ago, was unpleasant to see.
Suddenly, she had the urge to crush that expectant face.
‘Should I pave a flower path for those I’m grateful to, and serve shit to those I hate?’
She wasn’t a particularly kind person.
Barun might not remember, but the memory of him destroying her hope and killing her spirit remained vividly in her mind.
‘I roughly remember how they found a breakthrough in the textile business…’
Belia picked up the glass of water beside her and looked at Barun again.
Come to think of it, even in her first life before returning, Barun often forced a very obedient female image onto her.
She had been quiet, but when she said she wanted to go to the academy, Barun said this:
“It’s fine if you go, but if you fail, it’ll be very hard for you.”
“Will it? But other people graduate too…”
“That’s true. But as someone from the Arfedi family, would it be okay for you to just graduate like everyone else? I wouldn’t mind… but others probably won’t see it that way. Father would be disappointed too, but I’ll still support you.”
His tone wasn’t threatening.
It was filled with concern, the kind of advice a big brother might give.
However, the more he repeated these negative suggestions, the more my choices disappeared.
Barun always disguised his opposition as kindness. Whether it was the academy or anything else, he always tried to stop me from doing something.
Back then, my mother, father, and even I considered it genuine concern.
Looking back now, it’s clear—he simply didn’t like it when I stepped forward.
‘He just hated when “Belia Arfedi” did anything.’
“Belia? Your steak…”
At Sof’s voice, Belia looked down at her plate.
Seeing the piece of meat nearly unrecognizable, she stopped cutting it.
“Oh, you should eat.”
She smiled casually and sipped her juice.
Belia glanced at Barun.
Did he really think she couldn’t do it?
The version of her who used to shrink back at one harsh word was long gone.
To live a flashy life, she’d need money anyway.
And she knew how to make a fortune from the textile business.
What if she used that method to make money—and also make Barun eat dirt?
The idea struck her like lightning and instantly appealed to her.
Wasn’t it incredibly satisfying?
Belia smiled brightly.
“Father, if the textile business passes the review and our guild takes charge, may I also participate?”
“Belia? You?”
Barun raised his head.
He looked at her as if saying, “What is this fool up to again?”
“Yes. The Arfedi merchant guild represents the identity of our family. It’s been at the center of our household from its founding until now. As the only daughter of the Arfedi Marquisate, wouldn’t it look good for me to be involved in guild matters?”
Belia spoke with a maturity that belied her youth.
“Do you want to be involved?”
“Yes.”
She smiled gently.
“…But Belia hasn’t even had her coming-of-age ceremony.”
Barun immediately expressed his disapproval.
Since she had anticipated his objection, she responded casually.
“Oh come on, didn’t you start working with the guild before your coming-of-age ceremony? And it’s not like only men wear clothes. Honestly, if we want to make money with clothing, we need to apply it to women’s fashion. And who better to judge market potential than me, this year’s ‘Lady of the Year’?”
Belia emphasized “Lady of the Year” while locking eyes with Barun.
A subtle change flickered in Barun’s eyes.
He paused for a moment, then resumed using his cutlery like nothing had happened.
His silver-rimmed glasses briefly glinted under the chandelier light.
“…You’re right. What do you think, Father?”
“I think it’s wonderful. If you join, things might go even better.”
The Marquis smiled. Belia nodded in return.
“Thank you. I’ll do my best to think of something useful. But don’t expect too much.”
She grinned playfully.
“Alright. Now let’s finish our meal.”
With the Marquis’s words, the meal resumed.
The salon was crowded again today.
Since yesterday, inquiries had been flooding in, and every employee was busy.
“Is the dress worn by the Lady of the Year from the Arfedi family available yet? Our lady is eager to purchase it.”
“Ah, about that…”
“Wasn’t that dress made by Feltrom Salon?”
“I’m sorry. That design isn’t available for use yet.”
“What?”
While the flustered employee struggled to respond, Henri entered the owner’s office.
“What should we do? There are so many inquiries… Should we at least make a few of those dresses in advance?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Contact the Arfedi Marquisate. We absolutely cannot do that.”
Henri shook his head, recalling the Belia he had met earlier.
Something had changed—so much that she seemed like a completely different person.
“I mean, didn’t you feel it at the banquet? If we act without permission, she might terminate our exclusive contract. We’re already struggling to get usage rights for that dress design…”
At that moment, the door burst open and a salon employee rushed in.
“Boss! A letter just arrived—from the Arfedi Marquisate!”
“The Marquisate?”
Henri snatched the letter immediately.
“What does it say?”
“They’re summoning us tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, that’s great! Belia’s dress as Lady of the Year is making waves. Inquiries are pouring in! You have to seal that contract!”
Henri nodded, jaw clenched.
Since today’s meeting was critical for the salon, Henri repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists in nervous anticipation.
He deeply regretted not recognizing Belia’s eye for fashion earlier and failing to treat her kindly.
“You may go in now.”
Su informed Henri, who had been lingering in front of the door.
“Ah, thank you.”
He cleared his throat and knocked.
Meeting the young lady came first.
Much more polite than last time, Henri spoke.
“My lady, I am Henri from Feltrom Salon.”
“Come in.”
Her voice was gentle.
Henri opened the door, encouraged by what he thought was a good mood.
Belia, beautifully dressed, gave him a faint smile.
“Sit.”
“Ah, yes.”
“You’re here about using the dress design, right?”
Belia got straight to the point as soon as he sat.
“Ah, yes!”
“Then look at this—while having a drink.”
She picked up the juice in front of her and motioned to the documents on the table.
Henri flinched when he saw them.
Noticing the documents tucked under his arm, Belia shrugged.
“You probably brought a contract for design rights, but unless you’re willing to use this one, I won’t sign. We both know why you’re here, and we’re both busy, so let’s settle this quickly.”
“Did you prepare this yourself, my lady?”
“Yup. Go ahead and read it.”
Belia smiled sweetly.
Henri, nervous in the face of her composure, carefully began reading the document.
“If you want to use the dress design, you must follow these clauses.”
“Ah…”
“Normally, a 50-50 profit split would be fair, but our case is different.”
Belia smiled wryly.
“It’s not like we brainstormed the design together. I made it alone, didn’t I?”
‘Well—technically, it was the princess’s idea, but still.’
“Ah, yes, that’s true…”
“Honestly, even if I switched salons now, Feltrom wouldn’t have much to say. Right?”
If they had done their best as her exclusive salon, they would’ve argued. But recalling the past, Henri remained silent like a mute.
Belia’s eyes sparkled—as if to say: You won’t get another chance like this.
“I was going to make it 90-10, but I’ll be generous and offer 80-20, in recognition of your effort. How about it?”
