“Miss Boarne! Madam Lowell is here! She needs her measurements retaken, can you get ready for her?”
“Boarne, we’re out of fabric H298. Go to Mr. Hamilton’s shop and fetch some!”
“Senior Lindsay, Mr. Hamilton said he doesn’t sell that fabric anymore as of this month.”
“That’s why you’ll have to figure something out.”
Are you kidding me?
Florite Atelier.
Everywhere she went, Clara’s name was being called.
The apprentice designer’s job of handling all sorts of chores was no easy task, but Clara—naturally skillful with her hands and quick in action—adapted quickly. Added to that, the memories of her past life as a fashion designer gave her insight and judgment that grew by the day.
Even absurd demands, like procuring discontinued fabric, somehow became tasks she could manage.
“Senior Lindsay, where should I put the H298 fabric?”
“…You actually found it? Well, we don’t need it anymore. Just leave it there.”
I’ll kill you, I swear.
Sometimes, violent impulses rose within her—but she endured.
Because at home, she had twenty rabbit-like dogs depending on her.
On the meager wages of an apprentice designer, it was hard to make ends meet. All she could manage was to feed those twenty dogs.
Still, amidst her busy life, she found time to honor her late mother’s will. Clara carefully worked through the adoption process to find good homes for the stray dogs they had been fostering.
She checked each adopter’s background, ensuring there was no history of abandoning animals. She visited their homes to confirm the environment was suitable. Even after adoption, she followed up to make sure the dogs were doing well.
In this way, fifteen of the twenty had already been safely adopted.
While Clara was running herself ragged every day, Cookie wasn’t idle either.
I must be of help to Clara too!
Cookie kept the remaining five dogs in line, making sure they didn’t cause trouble at home.
When fights broke out over old toys scattered across the house—
“You brats! Sit down right now! If you jump one more time, not even a crumb of jerky will be left for you!”
He growled low, scolding them.
Sometimes one of them would start howling because they missed Clara.
“Fool, calm down! I can go check on Clara and see if she’s safe, can’t I?”
So, to calm the pack and to help Clara, Cookie began going out during the day.
“While Clara’s working, I’ll go out too.”
“Hm? Will you be okay on your own?”
“I’m not the old Cookie anymore.”
Cookie lifted his head proudly. If he were human, he would’ve puffed out his chest.
The other dogs wanted to go with him, but Clara’s landlord would surely find it suspicious if a whole group of dogs left the house without their owner.
So only Cookie, the leader, set off. Around his neck dangled a tag engraved with his and Clara’s names and address.
Cookie frequented the aristocratic shopping district of Seventh Street.
Thanks to the emperor, who had recently begun doting on his hunting dogs like family, it had become fashionable among nobles to own pets.
And if the Imperial Court set a trend, nobles would follow. Soon, every noble household had a dog.
Theaters even added velvet cushions next to opera seats for pets. Shops serving nobles provided water bowls and treats.
So when nobles saw a little brown poodle trotting alone, nose twitching and walking with a strangely human-like expression, they adored him.
“Oh my, look at that dog. How can it walk with such a human expression?”
“Come here, little one. The tag says it has an owner. Out on a walk by itself, how clever. What’s your name? Cookie? Hoho, what a perfect name.”
When nobles stroked his head gently, Cookie accepted the touch with an expression that seemed to say, I am Cookie, a mature and gentle dog. I won’t bite.
Sometimes they placed him on their laps while enjoying tea and snacks, even offering him biscuits or jerky.
“Here, try this. My pups go crazy for it. Oh my, how elegantly you eat.”
Cookie carefully chewed without spilling crumbs, while pricking his ears to catch the nobles’ chatter.
“My friend, the Duchess Isabella, says Her Highness the Princess is looking for an atelier to embroider an entire gown with diamonds.”
“Without having those diamonds ready beforehand, it would be impossible to source them quickly. Her Highness is quite mischievous. I imagine ateliers are very distressed.”
“Hohoho. Indeed. I wonder which atelier will succeed. If they fail to complete the gown on time, Her Highness’s disappointment will be tremendous.”
It was another way of saying: Which atelier will be struck down by the princess’s wrath?
The noble ladies laughed behind their fluttering fans.
They sound worried, but also entertained…
Cookie, new to speaking, couldn’t fully understand—but he remembered everything, and later that night, recounted it all to Clara in detail.
After hearing Cookie’s story, Clara thought for a moment and snapped her fingers.
“We can use this!”
“Mm? What do you mean?”
“This might actually help me. Thank you, Cookie.”
“I don’t know what it means, but if it helps Clara, I’m happy!”
Cookie wagged his tail happily. Clara looked at him fondly and stroked his head.
The Next Day
“I heard a rumor yesterday…”
Clara passed along exactly what Cookie had told her.
The rumor spread quickly from one employee’s lips to another.
Of course, people prefaced it with, “Clara said…” just in case it wasn’t true.
“Clara said…”
“Her Highness the Princess’s dress…”
“…Diamonds, she said…”
Eventually, the rumor reached Madame Florite herself.
“Oh my, that’s the rumor? I hadn’t heard a thing! I must look into it. And I absolutely cannot lose to Madame Hudwood!”
Florite acted at once. She confirmed the rumor’s truth and secured diamonds before anyone else.
As a result, Florite Atelier was commissioned to make the princess’s dress, and she gained the upper hand over her rival Madame Hudwood.
“Thanks to you, I’ve secured a wonderful opportunity. If you ever hear such rumors again, tell me right away. By the way—your name is Clara, isn’t it?”
From then on, Clara was allowed to bring her dogs into the shop on the condition that they behaved themselves.
Madame Florite, except for her habit of disappearing from the shop unexpectedly, wasn’t as bad as Clara had feared.
One Day
Cookie, as usual, was wagging his tail and charming noble ladies and gentlemen on the street when his sharp ears picked up something suspicious—sounds no human could hear, but a dog’s hearing could.
“…Judging by her dress, she must be a noble girl. Let’s snatch her while we can…”
“Who would know? A mute girl can’t even scream.”
Who would know?
Cookie knew.
“Woof!”
Scenting trouble, Cookie dashed into an alley.
Two thugs were surrounding a girl in a fine gown.
The girl stood motionless, expressionless.
She must be frozen with fear! I have to save her!
Cookie leapt into action.
The thugs were startled by the sudden appearance of a dog.
“Grrr… Woof!”
Cookie bared his teeth and lunged, biting onto one thug’s trouser leg.
“What the—? A damn mutt?”
“Hey!”
Overcome with emotion, Cookie almost spoke human words but quickly covered it up.
“…Woof! Woof!”
How dare you call me a mutt, you filthy humans! At home, I’m a precious princess too!
Though barely the size of a fist compared to grown men, Cookie bravely stood his ground, tail raised high, growling with all his might.
“Get lost! Where did this thing come from? Shut it up!”
They tried to kick him, but Cookie danced out of reach with nimble footwork.
The golden-haired, blue-eyed girl silently watched him, still expressionless.
Looks like I’ll need my secret weapon.
Dodging their kicks, Cookie retreated out of the alley.
For now, as a powerless dog, he had no choice but to withdraw.
He slipped into a side alley, then mimicked a man’s deep voice.
“Is anyone there? Some men are trying to kidnap a child! Guards! Guards! Over here!”
“Damn it, someone heard! Let’s run!”
Footsteps pounded away.
Pathetic fools.
Cookie snorted triumphantly and trotted back.
The girl was still standing there, dazed.
Cookie wagged his tail and approached, panting with a friendly smile.
“Pant, pant.”
Not going home?
The girl said nothing, only stared down at him.
“Whine?”
Why won’t you answer?
Cookie tilted his head.
“…”
From his five years of doggy life, he drew a conclusion.
She can’t speak!
So that’s what the thugs had meant, mocking that she couldn’t scream.
She doesn’t know her way home, does she? Then this dashing lady Cookie will lead her back!
Cookie stepped closer and sniffed her shoes and hem.
The scent of fresh gardens and old books clung to her.
Sniffing diligently, Cookie traced the trail backward—it came from the opposite direction of the alley.
Though he wasn’t a trained tracking dog, he was confident in his nose.
“Woof!”
This way!
Cookie tugged gently at her skirt hem, careful not to frighten her, then circled ahead, barking again.
“Yap!”
Follow me!
The blue-eyed girl blinked once, then began to walk after him.
