Chapter 5
*”Is this what they call a carbohydrate addiction?”*
Still, was it fortunate that eating greens made her stomach growl less? Grace tried to comfort herself as she poured cold water into her empty stomach.
“Did the tailor say he would come today?”
“Yes, he’s expected before lunch.”
Grace finished her salad and looked at the empty bowl with a hint of regret before rising from her seat.
*I’ll have to adapt. Normally, the more you eat, the more your capacity grows.*
“Then I should prepare to welcome him.”
“Shall I prepare some refreshments?”
“….”
Grace hesitated at the butler’s question.
Even so, since he was a guest, she ought to offer at least a cup of tea—but was it necessary to serve cookies too?
After eating only greens like a herbivore for the past few days, Grace’s thoughts had grown somewhat rigid.
Of course, vegetarian dishes were tasty. Even though the chef who exclusively prepared her meals belonged to the annex, it was still the Pelton family’s household.
But no matter how delicious, it was still just greens.
*I haven’t touched carbohydrates in ages.*
Grace had minimized her intake of salt, sugar, and flour—the so-called “powder of happiness.” And because of that, she felt less happy.
*No, but maybe I’ve lost a little weight because of it.*
Weight loss effects usually showed faster the more overweight someone was.
Technically, it was more like the swelling was going down—but swelling eventually turned into fat over time, a terrifying truth.
Grace touched her jawline and noticed there was less flesh to grab than before.
*Does facial fat usually go first?*
Of course, this could just be her imagination. While she poked her face with her fingers, the maid Sally spoke up.
“Madam, your complexion looks lovely these days.”
Grace’s face brightened at the comment.
“Really? I’ve been drinking a lot of water, so I guess it’s working.”
“Drinking water really makes your skin better?”
“That’s what people say. When you’re tired, drink water; if your skin’s rough, drink water—whatever happens, just drink water.”
“Excuse me? Who are ‘people’?”
“Well, I heard it secondhand.”
*Though I don’t really have a network for hearing things secondhand…*
Whether water could make such a difference in just a few days, Grace didn’t comment further.
“So, should I prepare the refreshments?”
“Yes. Even though it’s a lot of effort, it’s proper to serve him.”
Technically, since Grace was the one paying for the service, she didn’t need to serve tea at all.
But manners exist, and Grace wasn’t shameless.
*Besides, I’ll be drinking tea too. It would be rude not to serve him anything.*
Also, if the Peltons didn’t even get a single cookie, who knew what rumors would spread. Grace might be a lazy and incompetent mistress in charge of the household, but she couldn’t be careless with guest etiquette.
*And he’s a tailor.*
Someone who makes dresses would interact with countless noblewomen.
The Peltons would never summon a mediocre tailor. Even families outside the Peltons would likely rely on him. If Grace served only tea without snacks, it would surely spark further gossip.
*A fat, ugly, lazy, incompetent woman who can’t even serve guests.*
Grace felt that none of the epithets attached to “Grace Pelton” were positive—and as far as she knew, they were true.
*Not that I’m particularly ugly, and I’m not lazy…*
She couldn’t say about being incompetent, and she had little experience serving guests anyway!
Grace wondered if someone had maliciously spread all these rumors.
*…Probably not.*
She sighed deeply.
“Make sure there’s nothing lacking in the preparations.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I won’t eat anything myself, just so you know.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Grace’s stomach growled loudly.
*Ugh.*
It was so loud that she blushed, worrying someone might have heard.
She decided to drink plenty of water before the tailor arrived.
⋆★⋆
“Madam, a pleasure to see you.”
“…Welcome.”
The tailor arrived at the annex’s parlor and greeted Grace politely.
Grace was inwardly grateful for his courteous behavior.
*Is that normal?*
Usually, in cliché fashion, people would ignore her outright regardless of status. Given Grace’s bad reputation, she expected to be dismissed immediately.
Ignoring her anxious thoughts, the tailor handed her a thick catalog once they moved to the sitting room.
“I brought a catalog as you wished to have a new dress made, madam.”
Seated on the long sofa, Grace examined the catalog. Honestly, she couldn’t tell what was fashionable.
The original Grace had spent most of her time in the annex, and the current Grace had only recently arrived at this house.
*Oh, this is pretty.*
Among the designs, a deep teal dress embroidered with gold thread caught her eye.
It was truly beautiful and elegant.
The tailor, organizing various fabric swatches, noticed Grace’s gaze linger on one page.
“Do you like this dress?”
“I… think it’s beautiful, yes.”
Grace nodded awkwardly. She couldn’t imagine wearing it immediately, but the admiration was genuine.
As Grace attempted to speak further, the tailor interrupted.
“If I may speak frankly, madam, that dress does not suit you.”
“…?”
“Countess Coditon has the same design. If you were to have the same dress, I fear it might invite ridicule.”
Grace’s fingers, brushing the page, froze.
“…What?”
As she tried to respond, memories crept into her mind.
“Madam, that ornament is too extravagant for you. The jewelry’s sparkle will overwhelm you.”
“I recommend this dress for the duchess. Freckles on a high-born lady are a great flaw.”
“Oh, that diamond necklace. I hear Her Highness the Princess also purchased it. Everyone praised her appearance. You have excellent taste, madam. Do you like that necklace as well?”
The tailor continued to speak in a soft, almost insidious tone, showing off his tongue’s dexterity.
*Is he insane?*
The original Grace had been painfully timid and sensitive to others’ opinions.
So no matter how the duke’s tailor belittled her, she could never argue and suffered alone.
He subtly criticized her only when no one else was around.
Grace used to blame herself entirely.
*He’s truly insane.*
Her teal eyes burned brightly.
Yes, to the tailor, Grace was easy prey.
As the mistress of the Pelton household, there would be no issue paying for an expensive dress, plenty of costly fabric could be used, and the target was *her*, Grace.
A noblewoman who couldn’t protest against insults—seeing her from above must have felt satisfying.
But that was the old Grace.
The remnants of her former self made her tired of being demeaned.
Moreover, she had been cutting flour and sugar for health reasons. The worried gazes approaching her because of dieting were already burdensome; she had no patience for petty attacks.
Her patience was like that of a lion skipping breakfast and lunch.
Now, the tailor had become her prey.
Grace tried to recall—her past life had been full of encounters with unreasonable people online! …But she quickly calmed herself.
*No. If I lose control, I’ll be at a disadvantage in the divorce proceedings. It will be my fault.*
In the empire where Grace lived, men weren’t entirely dominant, but gender bias still existed.
Moreover, Grace was a duchess who had never heard kind words, and the other party, Benjamin Pelton, had only ever received praise and sympathy. The sympathy’s cause? Grace herself.
She was already in a disadvantageous position. Of course, if Benjamin said, “Let’s get a divorce,” he would hand over money immediately.
If she vowed never to approach him again under the temple’s name, he might even give more.
So she didn’t want to lose any of that money.
Grace thought quickly for a fleeting moment, planning how to deal with the tailor.
*How do I get rid of him? Might as well cut off his livelihood too.*
The original Grace wouldn’t have gone so far as to threaten someone’s job.
*The original me would’ve only severed dealings with the Pelton family. That alone would’ve taken incredible resolve.*
Considering the Pelton family’s wealth, that would’ve been a huge loss.
But since the client was Grace, there would be no major impact. She didn’t participate in social events like salons, tea parties, or banquets, and she wasn’t an unattainable object of desire.
She was just a nondescript woman who had luckily entered the Pelton household.
