The dress was short enough to reveal the ankles, with a red outer skirt pulled up to show the white underskirt underneath. The sleeves were simple, with just a single layer of lace.

“This is…”

It wasn’t at all the current fashion, but… Eve couldn’t help but be impressed. The dress was breathtakingly beautiful.

The gathered pleats of the outer skirt gave the dress fullness even without the use of a large pannier, and the small matching hat was absolutely adorable.

More than anything, Eve knew something. If things had gone differently, this style would have been the trend by now. If not for Cecilia, that is.

“…How did you come up with this?”

Eve couldn’t immediately continue, leaving Estelle to retreat, looking upset as she hid the dress behind her.

“See, Christine? I told you it wasn’t any good…”

“No, no!”

Eve raised her voice without realizing it. She was simply in shock. It wasn’t just the craftsmanship—it was the fact that Estelle had somehow created a style that hadn’t even become fashionable yet.

‘This style was supposed to be popularized by a new designer this summer… but how did she…?’

“How did you think of this?” Eve asked, her voice filled with curiosity. Estelle, looking shy, hesitated before answering.

“The current dresses seem too uncomfortable, so I tried to make something different. Christine had the chance to encounter clothing from distant lands during her trading business across the sea. The clothes there are practical and elegant, while the imperial fashion is just too flashy and heavy.”

“…That’s true.”

“Of course, the current style is beautiful too, but Christine struggles with the heat… I thought this would be better for the upcoming summer.”

“Then this dress…”

“I made Christine’s dress first, but after seeing you at Lady Girard’s tea party, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I created one based on a new style. I know it’s not much, though…”

Eve’s eyes remained fixed on the dress, carefully inspecting its details. Although she hadn’t been particularly involved in high society, she knew of the rising designer “Bella,” who had been gaining fame in the empire. She had even asked Charles to investigate Bella.

But Estelle had already made Bella’s design first?

‘I haven’t heard anything back from Charles about Bella yet. Could this really just be a coincidence?’

Christine chimed in with a question, pulling Eve out of her thoughts. “So, what do you think?”

Eve nodded, and Christine stood up to touch the dress, saying, “I was planning to wear it this summer, but… I guess that won’t happen, right?”

“Probably not,” Eve admitted. Right now, Cecilia controlled the trends of high society. Under normal circumstances, perhaps something could have been done, but…

“If Iris, Estelle, wears it to the ball, it might change things.”

Christine, however, shook her head at Eve’s suggestion.

“I thought of that, too, but if Estelle wears it, it’ll look like she’s directly opposing Lady Girard.”

“You’re right.”

Christine had a point. In the current climate, where Cecilia’s flashy style dominated, Estelle’s simpler dress could provoke a backlash from high society. While Estelle’s status as Iris could bring some positive reactions, negative ones were inevitable, and the criticism might hurt Estelle deeply, especially since she had made the dress herself.

Neither Christine nor Estelle had a reason to go against Cecilia. They probably didn’t realize just how deeply Eve despised her.

‘It’s not the right time…’

The dress was a pity, but Eve knew she didn’t yet have the strength to go up against Cecilia. However, she wasn’t about to let Estelle’s extraordinary talent go to waste.

“Estelle, would you be willing to make my dress for the ball?”

Originally, Eve had planned to ask Bella. Veronique, the empire’s top boutique, had long been Cecilia’s exclusive shop.

But since she hadn’t been able to find Bella, and no other tailor could match Veronique’s skill, it seemed better to trust Estelle.

Estelle blinked in disbelief.

“…What did you just say, Yvonne?”

“I asked if you could make my dress for the ball. I know you’re busy preparing for the event, and there isn’t much time, but if you already have something made, I’d gladly wear it.”

Estelle stared at Eve in a daze for several long moments.

And then, she swayed, almost collapsing in shock.

“E-Estelle!”

Eve rushed over, concerned, but Estelle, still in a daze, murmured,

“Christine… am I dreaming?”

Christine, who had been chuckling, bit into her apple and answered nonchalantly,

“Oh no, you’re not. Your muse, Yvonne, just asked you to make her dress.”

“This can’t be!”

“And that same Yvonne is holding onto you right now.”

“This is unreal!”

Estelle jolted in surprise, pulling away from Eve. She looked as though she might cry from the overwhelming emotions coursing through her.

‘Is this really alright?’ Eve wondered, feeling a little awkward. But before she could process her thoughts, Estelle approached her again, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Really, really, I can make your dress, Yvonne?”

“Don’t overwork yourself. Like I said, I’ll gladly wear a dress you’ve already made if there’s one available.”

“I could never do that! But… I need to take your measurements… and what fabric should I use? Christine! What should I do?”

At Estelle’s frantic cry for help, Christine, still lounging casually, offered her advice.

“You should try on some of the dresses she’s already made, just to see how they fit.”

“Oh my goodness! I’m so happy!”

Estelle let out a near-scream of joy. Christine winked at her, and Eve, left in the middle of the room, could only stand dumbfounded by the unexpected celebration unfolding around her.

“Hey, Alice! Bring all the dresses from the workshop! Only the recent ones!”

“Yes, my lady!”

At Estelle’s command, the maid hurried out. Soon, maids entered, each carrying a different dress into the room.

“…How many dresses are there? Didn’t you say to bring only the recent ones?”

“These *are* the recent ones.”

“…Oh.”

From elegant beige gowns to bold navy ones, the variety was stunning, each dress showcasing its own unique charm. Eve couldn’t help but be captivated by the display.

“They’re all truly beautiful. I’ve bought dresses from Veronique before, but these are just as good.”

Estelle blushed at Eve’s compliment.

“Well, I didn’t know your measurements, so I just guessed…”

“We can adjust the fit.”

“And I’d like to reflect your personal preferences, too.”

Eve didn’t have many specific preferences when it came to clothing. She usually preferred something simple and neat. But this time was different.

“For the ball, I think something more extravagant would be good. It’s almost like a late debutante for me.”

“Interesting, a debutante.”

“It has to be more than just interesting.”

Eve selected a few of the most striking dresses and spoke firmly.

“I’m going to make sure everyone remembers me.”

Eve’s eyes gleamed with determination. Seeing her confidence, Estelle and Christine couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

“I’ll help!”

“Me, too.”

Eve smiled at their support.

“Thank you.”

Perhaps it wasn’t that she had trouble asking for help. Maybe she just hadn’t found anyone to ask. Maybe she had only told herself that receiving help was a weakness to cover up her fear.

But just as the atmosphere reached its peak of excitement, a voice suddenly cut through the room like cold water.

“What is going on here?”

The three women’s heads snapped toward the doorway, where a man stood with a stern expression. Estelle quickly stepped forward.

“H-Honey.”

Honey? So this was…

‘The Count of Marseille?’

His expression was displeased, and when he met Eve’s gaze, he frowned even more.

‘Not a welcoming atmosphere.’

As the tension in the room grew, Christine clicked her tongue and stepped forward.

“Count, if we were too noisy, we apologize. But it’s not becoming for a man to interfere in women’s affairs.”

Her comment wasn’t so much mediation as it was provocation. Eve, startled, pulled Christine back and spoke.

“Count Marseille. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Yvonne de Fontaine.”

“…Duchess. I am Frédéric de Marseille.”

“We were preparing for the ball and may have overstepped. If we disrupted your work, I sincerely apologize.”

“That’s not the issue. It’s just…”

The Count glanced at the dresses scattered around the room, his brow furrowing further. Estelle lowered her head.

“You’re hosting a ball, and this is what it turns into? I thought I told you to stop this commoner sewing nonsense.”

“I just…”

As Estelle faltered, Eve stepped in.

“I asked her to show me these dresses. The ball will be a grand success. I trust you’ll be attending, Count?”

“I have prior commitments that day…”

Just as the Count was about to coldly reject her, a servant knocked on the door.

“Count, the Duke of Fontaine is here.”

“…What?”

Who was here…?

‘Why is he here?’

Eve stared at the door in disbelief as a pair of elegantly shod feet crossed the threshold. Following them, a man with a charming smile entered the room.

“Hello, Eve.”

It really was Charles. But why on earth was he here?

“Good day, everyone. I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“Wait, wait. Char… Arsen.”

Eve quickly approached him, trying to act as though she were happy to see him, and whispered in a low voice.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was bored.”

“Bored? You, with all that work piled up?”

“I finished it all.”

“You finished all of it? That much work?”

Amused by Eve’s shock, Charles patted her shoulder and turned to the others in the room. His gaze swept over each person, a playful glint in his eyes.