Chapter 17
“……”
“……”
An awkward silence filled the boutique. Neither Celia nor Flea had any talent for carefully choosing clothes.
As a result, the task of selecting outfits fell entirely to the boutique staff—and one unexpected addition to the party.
“If we add pearls as an accent, I think it’ll be perfect.”
“Excellent idea, Young Master.”
That “new face,” who had somehow joined this shopping trip, was Royhan Diaman.
“What do you think, Lady Celia?”
“Well, I don’t really mind what I wear…”
“No, no! With your hair color, most clothes lose their charm entirely! You need to be more discerning. Look, try this one, that one—these too!”
‘Is this guy really a Diaman?’
Celia barely stopped herself from blurting out the rude question.
Neither Carla nor Cecil, nor even Flea, had ever been this talkative. None of them had ever been this excitable, either.
Celia stared at Royhan with a faintly overwhelmed expression. From what she’d been told, he was Carla’s younger brother—someone who’d tagged along after asking a single question before their departure.
“Are the two of us going alone?”
“I’d prefer that too, but…”
Right after Carla’s oddly regretful answer, a smaller man with brown hair and dull green eyes had popped out from behind Flea.
“Hello, I’m Royhan Diaman.”
“This one might not be trustworthy in other matters, but he does have a talent for choosing clothes.”
And indeed, Royhan moved with ease through the racks, expertly picking out outfits while chatting about the capital’s latest fashion trends—more fluently than most noble ladies.
‘Well, at least he’s more helpful than that one.’
Flea Diaman, standing quietly in the corner, nodded politely at every outfit shown to him, insisting that everything looked good on her. Completely useless. He probably found this entire affair just as bothersome as she did. Even now, he nodded passionately at every item Royhan displayed.
“What do you think, Flea? This one’s fine too, right?”
“She’ll look good in anything.”
“I told you that’s not true—her hair color clashes with most of these! Try taking this seriously, will you?”
Well, at least he was keeping the staff busy. Celia could relax while they bickered. She guessed Carla had sent Royhan along because she suspected things wouldn’t go smoothly if Celia and Flea went alone. A bit much, but understandable.
“There seems to be a lot of clothing…”
“This is just the basic amount you need, my lady.”
Having never owned more than three outfits in her life, Celia found the sight of so many extravagant garments overwhelming. The decorations alone must have cost a small fortune.
‘Maybe next time I should just ask for cash instead of clothes,’ she thought. ‘I could send some to Father.’
The image of her father wandering about to pay off his debts left her with a faint pang of guilt.
‘I did send a letter when I arrived in the capital… but who knows when he’ll actually get it.’
As she stared blankly at the glittering embellishments on one of the dresses, Royhan interpreted her silence in his own way and nodded briskly.
“We’ll take this one too.”
“…You’re quite thorough.”
“Right? I’m great at being an aide or an assistant.”
He puffed his chest out proudly. Celia replied flatly,
“Are you trying to become my aide?”
“Oh, that would be nice for me, sure—but…”
Leaning closer, Royhan lowered his voice.
“I already serve someone else.”
“Ah. Okay then.”
Not her problem.
Just then, the staff brought out a collection of jewelry. Royhan’s eyes sharpened immediately.
“If possible, something red—to match her hair. Otherwise, something clear…”
Celia was about to ignore him when something in her senses snagged.
“That one.”
“Pardon?”
“Ah, you have a good eye, my lady!”
The clerk rushed over, holding up the jewelry case Celia had pointed at.
“As expected of a magic swordswoman—you even have a sense for enchantments.”
Inside was a modest pink gemstone set into a necklace.
“This is a tourmaline engraved with a magic formula on the back.”
“A strong one?”
It wasn’t unusual for weapons or jewelry to bear magical inscriptions, though such enchantments on accessories were typically more decorative than practical. Still—something about this felt different.
The clerk’s eyes gleamed with enthusiasm.
“Indeed! It holds a protection spell.”
“Like… what? Prevents you from breaking your nose if you fall backward or something?”
She’d seen peddlers in war zones selling “magic items” like that—amulets to avoid beasts, holy water that supposedly fooled monsters. Utter scams. But plenty of soldiers paid for such things anyway, desperate for a bit of comfort.
Of course, a boutique in the capital wouldn’t be selling fakes like that… right?
The clerk shook his head firmly.
“We do not deal in vague or ineffective products, my lady.”
“Then what does it do?”
“It provides physical protection. When the wearer is in danger, the spell activates. Unfortunately, it only works three times.”
“That’s not much.”
“The spell is powerful—that’s why. It can nullify nearly any physical damage. And even after the magic is spent, the gem itself remains of the finest quality.”
Hmm. Probably exaggerated, but still not a bad deal.
“Forget the others. I’ll just take this one,” Celia said.
“Are you sure? As jewelry, its value is somewhat plain.”
She shrugged. It was simpler than the rest, which made it all the better.
“And these too.”
She pointed at a pair of cufflinks and a set of spectacles displayed nearby—gifts for Margaret and Jullin.
‘They probably won’t get much attention from others, so I’ll handle it myself.’
Royhan nodded, then glanced meaningfully between her and Flea.
“Since we’re nearly done, why don’t you two step outside for a bit?”
“Can’t we go together?”
“No, no—I need to separate the items for wrapping and delivery. Go ahead and…”
Lowering his voice dramatically, he added,
“…perhaps have a cup of tea?”
“Are you plotting to poison someone? The way you say that makes it sound like you want us to.”
“T-that’s not what I meant!”
Royhan coughed awkwardly and leaned toward Flea, whispering something.
Flea’s expression turned odd.
“I… uh…”
“You’re hopeless. Just go! Both of you!”
Suddenly, Royhan snapped and physically shoved Flea toward Celia.
Before they knew it, they were outside the boutique.
“…Your cousins are all quite something,” Celia muttered.
“They’re good people,” Flea replied with an embarrassed smile. “They just… try a bit too hard to help.”
“I suppose.”
He continued calmly,
“Since we’re out anyway, perhaps you’d like to look around the capital? You’ve been so busy preparing for exams and such since you arrived—you deserve a little rest.”
“I don’t really feel like resting. It’s not like I’ve done anything great yet. Honestly, things are only just starting.”
“No.”
This time, Flea’s tone was firm.
“Whatever you do, you should rest from time to time.”
“Is that advice from a patron to his beneficiary?”
“Not exactly.”
He smiled gently, his eyes soft with concern.
“I just don’t want you to overwork yourself.”
She could tell he meant it—his voice carried genuine warmth.
‘He really is too kind.’
“Fine then,” Celia said, holding out her hand. “Be my guide.”
“…Pardon?”
“You said to look around the capital.”
“Let’s take a stroll and unwind a bit before heading back.”
“!”
Just this once, she’d let him win. His sincerity was hard to ignore.
“Let’s see what kind of fancy tour a viscount offers.”
“…I’ll do my best,” Flea said softly, offering his arm.
Celia placed her hand on it. His muscles tensed immediately beneath her touch—solid and well-trained. She couldn’t help but smile approvingly. That’s how proper training should look.
‘Once I get lessons from a swordmaster in this body, I’ll make great progress.’
If all went well, she might even repay the Diamans’ investment with interest.
With that thought, she followed Flea as he guided her through the capital.
They toured the royal-managed lake, the grand fountain at the city’s center, and the famous walking path—all under the curious gazes of passersby. Many clearly recognized Flea.
“Why, if it isn’t Viscount Diaman!”
A middle-aged man approaching from the other side of the street greeted him cheerfully.
“Have you thought about what I said before? I’ve got two daughters of marriageable age, you know…”
“Ah, greetings, my lord. I—”
Celia quietly stepped back. Matters of marriage were Flea’s problem, not hers.
‘I’ll let him handle it for now… but if it gets too awkward…’
Clink.
At that moment, something cold suddenly coiled around Celia’s leg.
