MTLNOVEL Chapter 17
Chapter 17
The shop owner of Mirrors, Misa, greeted us with a refreshing business smile. Her brown bob cut swayed lightly, and the way she held her hands together in front of her stomach was quite elegant. Yet, somehow, there seemed to be a shadow behind her smile. Yes, it was the kind of anxiety only salespeople would know—a lingering worry about poor sales stuck in her head.
"Since it's not ideal to chat for long in the shop, please come to the lounge in the back."
"My lady, is that alright with you?"
"Sure. Please let Barry know we'll be a bit late."
"Understood."
Clarice went to where Barry was waiting as the coachman, then quickly returned.
"Ellie, how about this?"
Amy, who had been wandering around the store, cheerfully held up a piece of clothing.
"New arrival," said the tag.
Now that she mentioned it, the drab brown leather dress was made with a slim-fitting silhouette and featured a large round collar. It wasn't the usual defense-focused design that covered the neck and back completely. The designer's sense really shined here.
"I think anything would look good on you, Sister."
"Ellie, could you be a bit more thoughtful?"
Amy pouted slightly and furrowed her brows—adorable.
"Would you like to try it on later?"
Smiling, shop owner Misa took the leather dress from Amy and gave a gentle nod.
"Yes, I will!"
"Then please follow me this way."
Amy, Clarice, and I were led to the back of the shop. Inside were half-finished garments, thick design paper, rulers, and scissors scattered across the worktable. Further in was a lounge, likely used for casual meetings and transactions, furnished with a sofa and a table. The table was made of the same white wood as the entrance.
"Was that outfit designed by you, Misa?"
"No, my younger brother made it. He's still a bit inexperienced, but I think he has talent."
As we sat down, a young man about the same age as Ellie brought in tea.
He was quite the handsome youth. He wore a large flat cap, a navy shirt, and gray trousers. The fit was off, but he didn't look entirely unstylish. Our eyes met briefly, and he gave a slight bow.
"This is my brother, Joe."
Joe removed his cap with a careless hand and greeted us with a sullen tone. Chestnut hair peeked from under his hat, hiding his forehead. Seemingly curious, he closely observed us.
"I apologize for his lack of manners."
"No, that's fine. More importantly, what was the intention behind that new design?"
"Come on, Joe, don't just stand there—answer her."
Joe sighed, put his cap back on, and spread his hands.
"Lately, all the clothes are oversized. So I thought slimmer lines would be better. That's all."
"Do you think it'll be popular?"
"I think there are people who'll like it."
"What age group did you design it for?"
"Young women."
This young man named Joe seems to instinctively sense that something is off with current fashion trends.
No matter how you look at it, there are too few variations. No checkered, striped, or polka dot patterns? If you were seriously designing sellable clothes, those would definitely be included. They even existed in Earth's fashion a hundred years ago. Seriously, what's up with that?
I had high hopes for fashion in another world.
You know, like wild designs or daring armor that only covers the chest—I had all sorts of fantasies.
"So, is that the end of the talk? I've got work to do, so I'll be going."
"Joe! I sincerely apologize for his ignorance, my lady!"
"No, it's alright. I'm sorry for holding him up during work."
Joe glanced at me, frowned irritably, and gave a curt nod before heading toward the door.
I get it. Talking about irrelevant stuff while working is a real pain. Especially when you're trying to focus. Yeah, it can't be helped.
But then something he muttered as he left made my thoughts freeze.
In a low voice, he said, "so damn fat."
At the door, Joe bowed once and tried to leave.
Hey, you little brat.
Don't get cocky.
Calling someone fat on your first meeting—how ridiculous can you be? And we're customers too. I don't care if you've got a knack for design, your sales etiquette is garbage.
I stood up silently.
Everyone looked up at me, wondering what was going on.
"Hold it right there, you."
Joe flinched at my voice and turned around.
"You really had the nerve to call a customer fat, huh?"
"N... no, I didn't mean..."
"I heard you loud and clear."
"Uhh..."
"How about being honest for once?"
"No..."
He had that "I messed up" look on his face.
"If you tell the truth, I'll give you a chance to be forgiven."
"......"
"Say it like a man!!?"
"I-I'm sorry!"
The young man apologized while setting down the tray.
"Joe! What in the world are you doing!?"
Misa turned beet red and scolded him as if she were about to pounce.
"B-but... it was just too..."
"Go over there right now!"
"It's alright, Misa."
I stood up and faced the slumped-over boy.
"Joe. Look at me."
The moment he raised his head, I slapped him across the cheek—hard.
A loud smack echoed through the room.
Everyone was left speechless.
A girl who looked like she couldn't even hurt a fly had just angrily delivered a brutal slap. No wonder they were stunned.
"Don't say things like that to a girl, not even as a joke. It really hurts."
"...I'm sorry."
"What's the point of calling someone fat to their face?"
"What do you mean, 'what's the point'..."
"Does anyone benefit from that?"
"No... no one does..."
"A person worries most about their own body, so you shouldn't bring it up. No matter how much it bothers you. Even if you think it, you should keep it to yourself. Got it? Can't you even do that?"
"I-I can!"
"Then do so from now on."
I said my piece and sat back down without delay.
Clarice nodded solemnly, and shop owner Misa bowed her head repeatedly.
Amy was so shocked that her mouth hung wide open.
Joe left the room with his head down.
Maybe I went too far—but if I didn't do that much, I wouldn't feel right. Ellie may be fat, ugly, and have acne, but she's a kind-hearted lady. The only ones allowed to call her fat are Ellie and me.
Besides, gaining the upper hand from your opponent's blunder isn't a bad sales tactic.
Before that advantage faded, I decided to speak up.
"Now, about that matter you wanted to discuss?"
Perhaps to collect herself, Misa brushed back her bob cut two or three times.
"It's about the frills on the skirt Miss Ellie mentioned the other day."
"I'm not saying your store's products are bad, you know."
"I understand. But please tell me what exactly seems off."
"Um, what exactly do you mean by 'off'?"
I feigned ignorance on purpose.
"Miss Ellie said the fabric of the skirt should be thinner. Why is that?"
"Because it looks frumpy."
"But that style is currently in fashion."
"Fashion, fashion, huh......"
She hesitated, carefully choosing her words.
"Misa, why did you decide to run this shop? It must've been tough becoming the owner of such a lovely store at your age."
I changed the subject and smiled warmly. Since Misa was in the position of seeking advice due to her brother's failure, she readily went along with my small talk.
"It's been my dream since I was a child."
"Come to think of it...... this place used to be a butcher shop, my lady."
Clarice quietly chimed in.
"That's right. My father ran a butcher shop for generations. But ten years ago, when a large butcher and steakhouse opened on Main Street, our customers gradually stopped coming. The stress from declining sales and trying to keep the business afloat made my father ill."
After that, the whole family tried to rebuild the shop, but in the end, with only my mother and me—both practically amateurs—it didn't go well, and before getting into debt, we decided to close the butcher shop.
Just as we were discussing what to do with the vacated property, I, who had worked as a maid for a famous noble family, used my savings to open a personal clothing store. My mother was strongly opposed, but with persuasion from my younger brother Joe, who aspired to be an illustrator, I pushed forward and managed to keep the shop running for a full year without closing.
Still, business is tough. While it's not at the point of dipping into savings for operations, we're barely turning a profit, and in the end, our living expenses are eating up our savings. We don't even have the funds to develop new clothes.
Even if we were to take out a loan, we'd have to use the shop and land as collateral. The thought of losing them is too frightening, so we can't do it. At best, we release new items little by little using the money Joe earns from working away. It's what you'd call a dead end. Not that I see it that way, though.
The ever-tearful Clarice dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
To get them to open up this much, I'd actually employed a range of sales techniques.