BVIB 12

Chapter 12

There were easily twenty ballgowns among Roselyn’s selections, along with a mountain of accessories and more than a dozen pairs of shoes.

“Is there a problem?” Roselyn asked, her tone sharp.

“No, not at all. If you want them, I can certainly buy them for you…” Gueran Wilbred replied, only shrugging nonchalantly at her fierce voice.

“Good. I wouldn’t have the funds myself,” Roselyn replied with a smirk, tipping her chin in amusement.

She took her time, methodically inspecting every corner of the spacious boutique and making her final selections before finally settling onto the central sofa.

…Her taste is better than I expected, Madame Pluieure thought as she glanced over the array of dresses Roselyn had chosen.

Some of the designs weren’t in fashion yet but were sure to be soon; others were classic styles that never went out of favor, and a few were bold, even daring, choices. Almost every piece Roselyn had picked was one Madame Pluieure herself considered a masterpiece or had poured her heart into creating.

I’d always heard she was oblivious to trends… she mused.

But looking at Roselyn now, it was hard to believe the rumors. The black dress she wore was a style most young ladies avoided for its somber, gloomy effect. Yet, on Roselyn—with her porcelain skin, vivid red lipstick, striking crimson eyes, and snowy white hair—the dress looked less funereal and more mesmerizing, heightening her allure rather than dulling it. It was as if the gown had been made just for her.

Madame Pluieure felt her assumptions shatter. Without realizing it, she drew in a sharp breath.

Quickly signaling her assistants to bring fresh tea and refreshments, she made her way over to where Roselyn was seated.

“My lady, I know you must be tired, but would it be all right if we took your measurements? We’ll need them to tailor the dresses to fit,” Madame Pluieure asked gently.

“Go ahead,” Roselyn replied, rising from her seat.

Pluieure quickly and meticulously took Roselyn’s measurements, then guided her back to her seat.

“I never knew you were so greedy, my lady,” came a familiar male voice—a man Roselyn had recently encountered at the imperial palace, and not one she was particularly fond of.

Roselyn narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, whose fault is it that my wardrobe is completely empty?”

“Oh dear, my apologies for that,” he replied with a low, amused chuckle.

Gueran Wilbred.

As she’d suspected, he clearly possessed memories from before arriving in this world as well.

“Now then, if you’re in a better mood, shall we head to my residence? There are things we need to discuss—and a few things I’d simply like to talk about,” Gueran suggested, his smile calm and enigmatic.

With narrowed eyes, Roselyn sipped her tea in silence, considering. Gueran only watched her, that subtle smile never leaving his face.

He had always been a difficult man for her to read. Now, appearing much younger than she remembered—somewhere in his late thirties—he was still the same: gentlemanly, with wounded eyes. His brown hair and violet eyes caught her attention, and she let out a quiet sigh.

“My lady,” Madame Pluieure spoke up.

Roselyn glanced over at her.

“Where shall we send your dresses and accessories?” she asked.

“Send them to Roselyn Bellion at the Bellion Ducal Estate. I’ll let the butler know to expect them,” Roselyn replied.

“Yes, of course,” Madame Pluieure replied, her smile blooming as bright as a flower.

“Since you’ve purchased so many pieces—even though some are still prototypes—if you’ll allow it, I’d love to gift you a dress. Would that be all right?”

“I’d be honored. Thank you,” Roselyn answered, her red lips curving into a gracious smile as she nodded in acceptance.

“In that case, I’ll make sure everything is tailored and ready for you within a week,” Pluieure promised. “If you have any issues after receiving them, please contact me directly—I’ll come myself to take care of it. And if you ever need a new dress, just let me know, and I’ll visit you in person.”

Her assistants gaped in astonishment behind her. They knew better than anyone what kind of person Madame Pluieure was—outside of the imperial family, she never made house calls for anyone. Securing a custom dress from her required a year-long wait, and no amount of money could buy your way to the front of the line. Even her boutique operated by strict reservation only; under normal circumstances, Roselyn and Marquis Gueran should have been turned away at the door.

If Roselyn hadn’t walked in, pointed out what she wanted, and agreed to buy everything on the spot, even she would have been politely shown out.

“And your total comes to 823 million olang,” Pluieure announced, beaming even more brightly than she had when her name first graced the lips of high society’s most distinguished nobles.

“How would you like to handle the payment?”

At Madame Pluieure’s words, Roselyn glanced over at Marquis Gueran.

He chuckled softly and reached into the inside pocket of his suit, producing a slip of paper and a pen. After scribbling something down, he handed the rectangular slip to Pluieure.

“Take this check to the bank—they’ll give you the money,” Gueran said.

Pluieure’s eyes widened as she accepted the paper with great care. It was a blank check—something she’d only ever heard about in stories. And the amount written was even higher than the total bill.

Ten billion olang.

Flustered, Pluieure looked to Gueran for confirmation.

But he had already turned his attention away, extending his hand to Roselyn to help her from the sofa, clearly intent on escorting her out.

“Think of it as an advance payment for any exceptional designs you might create in the future,” he said.

The meaning was obvious: anytime she came up with a masterpiece, it should go to Roselyn first.

Despite her shock, Pluieure bowed deeply. “Yes, I promise—if I create anything truly special, I’ll be sure it goes to Lady Roselyn. Thank you for your trust.”

Gueran simply answered with a faint smile.

Roselyn shot him a slightly exasperated look, but with a click of her tongue, she placed her hand in his.

What on earth is their relationship? Pluieure wondered. She’d inherited her barony and attended a few high-society gatherings, but she’d never heard of any connection between Roselyn Bellion and Marquis Gueran Wilbred.

Roselyn, too, could feel the curious gazes from all around her.

“Madame Pluieure, was it?” Gueran addressed the shop owner directly.

As Roselyn prepared to leave the boutique with Gueran’s escort, she suddenly turned with a faint, almost amused smile.

“Ah, yes, that’s me,” Madame Pluieure replied quickly.

“The dresses were of excellent quality. The designs were quite impressive, too,” Roselyn remarked, her tone polite but rather reserved.

“Oh! Thank you so much!” Pluieure’s smile brightened at even this modest compliment.

“Running a boutique like this, I imagine you see and hear quite a lot…” Roselyn continued in a leisurely tone.

Pluieure looked up, only to freeze under the weight of Roselyn’s gaze. Despite the gentle, smiling voice, Roselyn’s crimson eyes were cold and unwavering, fixed directly on her.

Pluieure, momentarily stiff with anxiety, quickly found her voice.
“Yes, but our boutique is very discreet. You never have to worry about anything you say or do here, my lady. I would never disappoint you.”

She understood exactly what Roselyn was hinting at—and the intensity in those eyes made her feel as if she might suffocate if she didn’t answer fast enough.

At last, Roselyn nodded, satisfied.
“Good. I’m glad to hear it. I trust you.”

“Of course! You have nothing to worry about!” Pluieure replied, clenching her fists with determination.

“Well then, I’ll be going,” Roselyn said, signaling the end of their visit.

Even before she finished speaking, Pluieure bowed deeply.
“Thank you for visiting! Please come again anytime—Pluieure Boutique will always welcome the both of you!”

As Roselyn gazed thoughtfully at the bowed figure, she spoke once more.

“And this is just my unsolicited advice, so feel free to ignore it if you wish,” Roselyn added casually.

“Pardon?” Pluieure asked, uncertain.

“There have been some troubling rumors coming up from the south. It might be wise to consider changing suppliers.”

Ding—

“Uh… excuse me?” Pluieure stammered, only processing the warning a moment too late.

By the time she looked up, Roselyn was already gone.