Summon the Modern Lady!

================

The air inside Madam Aurora's Boutique was fragrant with the scent of fresh fabrics and delicate perfumes, a world apart from the bustling streets outside. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, illuminating rows of luxurious gowns and accessories displayed like treasures in a vault.

Cheska trailed behind Ayessa, her eyes wide as she took in the boutique's grandeur.

Beside her, Amaranthe appeared less impressed, her gaze focused on the delicate embroidery of a dress on a mannequin.

Ayessa had been in high spirits the entire journey, enthusiastically explaining how Madam Aurora's was the trendsetter for fashion not only in the kingdom but even in the imperial capital Levishus.

"You wouldn't expect it to be so quiet, though," Cheska murmured, glancing at the serene surroundings.

"That's because of the royal decree," Ayessa explained with a sly smile. "With the Banquet of Honors approaching next month, most people prefer to avoid bumping into those of influence here. They'd rather not risk awkward encounters or, worse, make enemies."

"Politics," Amaranthe said softly, as if the phrase itself were a burden.

"Exactly," Ayessa agreed, her lilac eyes sparkling. Then her tone turned dry. "Though the demon king brought fear to everyone's hearts before, it's amazing how the rotten ones still thrive after it."

Cheska tilted her head. "Rotten ones?"

As if on cue, the boutique's grand doors opened, and the atmosphere shifted like a sudden gust of cold wind.

Through the entrance strode a woman, her presence commanding yet suffocating.

Duchess Elenoir Glandza, dressed impeccably in a gown of deep violet, carried herself with an elegance that seemed almost weaponized.

Her indigo curls bounced slightly as she walked, her sharp eyes scanning the boutique like a hawk searching for prey, as if finding one she smiled.

"I greet the princess Ayessa de Ruchuster-Glandza. My, how wonderful it is to see you." The woman smiled, her fan covering half her face, not bowing down.

Ayessa's smile grew brighter— a reaction so pointed it could have been mistaken for a blade being unsheathed.

"Elenoir," Ayessa greeted warmly, though her tone was thick with mockery. "Are you blind, perhaps? You seem to have missed my companions entirely."

Elenoir's lips curled upward in a smile just as fake, her sharp eyes now fixed solely on the princess.

"Oh, I do hope not. After all, I wouldn't want to be like you, Ayessa." Her voice was sugar-coated venom. "Giving up a throne for love must be so... debilitating, ah, I meant liberating."

Cheska's eyes widened as the words landed, but Ayessa didn't miss a beat.

If anything, her grin stretched further, her lilac eyes glowing with a dangerous light.

"And yet here you are, Elenoir," Ayessa replied smoothly. "Spending your days managing the scraps left behind by your mediocre husband. Such dedication to mediocrity."

"You're lucky to be a princess. You can be blunt." 

The air between the two women crackled with unspoken tension.

Cheska exchanged a glance with Amaranthe, who was watching the exchange with quiet amusement, her arms loosely crossed.

Elenoir adjusted her gloves with deliberate grace, turning her gaze to Cheska and Amaranthe for the first time.

Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "And who might these... interestingly dressed travelers be?"

"Ah, how rude of me! I forgot to introduce you to them." Ayessa exclaimed, though her tone made it clear she didn't feel the slightest bit sorry. "These are my guests— Lady Cheska and Lady Amara. Travelers of fine taste, don't you agree?"

Elenoir's gaze swept over them like one assessing cattle at an auction. "Your dresses are... generous," she remarked with a faint sneer.

"They're royal," Ayessa said, her tone saccharine. "A gift from the family, actually."

The duchess's expression froze for a moment, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly before she composed herself.

She flapped her fan, bowing as she looked away. "Well, then," The duchess said smoothly, gesturing toward Ayessa. "As royalty, you must go first. It would be unbecoming of me to delay your measurements."

"Such consideration!" Ayessa beamed, stepping forward without hesitation.

But as she passed Elenoir, Ayessa turned back smiling warmly to the two. "Take a seat and be comfortable. I'll be right back, okay? "

Cheska nods with a smile and sat down with Amaranthe.

When Ayessa left, the air in the boutique grew heavy. The editor watched the back of Duchess Elenoir who was rooted in her place, whispering to her companion. "What's their deal?"

Amaranthe's voice was as steady as ever, her gaze also on the duchess.

"Elenoir Glandza. Wife of Duke Persius Glandza, Lord Emette's brother. She's ambitious, and while that's a good sign, she is naturally vindictive, and not fond of people besides those she is close to."

Cheska frowned. "But why does she hate Ayessa so much? And also the other way around?"

Amaranthe's gaze finally shifted to Cheska. "Jealousy," her gaze softened. "Ayessa gave up everything and she feels that the princess still has more than her."

"More?" Cheska blinked.

"Love, freedom, and people who genuinely care about her. Since Elenoir is innately negative, she was susceptible on desires and temptations," her voice trailed, watching the Duchess with an unreadable expression. "But I've read she was extremely kind and tame before..."

"Geez, you've read a lot of gossip magazines about them, huh?"

Amaranthe smiles, "I was curious about people's lives."

After a moment, Elenoir turned her attention back to Cheska and Amaranthe, her smile returning in full force.

"Well, ladies," she purred, "I hope you'll find something suitable here. Though I'd suggest something simple. You wouldn't want to look too out of place at the banquet."

Amaranthe tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And you wouldn't want to look too desperate," she replied softly, her voice sweet but chilling.

The duchess's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, and Cheska quickly looked away, gulping hard.

The words landed softly but struck hard.

Elenoir's smile faltered for the briefest moment before she recovered, laughing awkwardly behind her fan. "Ah, how bold! It must be wonderful to be an honored guest of the royal family. You can say whatever you like with such powerful backing."

She didn't give them a chance to respond, gliding toward the display of dresses like nothing had happened.

Her fingers trailed across the fabrics until they stopped on a dazzling pink gown.

The dress sparkled under the boutique's warm lighting, its bodice adorned with gemstones that caught the light in every direction.

It was ostentatious and overly grand, designed to turn heads— though not necessarily for the right reasons. It was known as the trap dress of the ladies' of the noble courts, displayed to find the outcast.

Elenoir's gaze flickered toward Cheska, who had been shifting uncomfortably, her eyes darting around the room as if unsure where to settle.

The duchess smiled to herself, like a predator spotting easy prey.

With deliberate elegance, she lifted the dress and approached Cheska. "This," she said, holding it out, "would be perfect for you."

Cheska blinked, caught off guard. "Me?"

Elenoir's smile grew sweeter, her voice dripping with condescension. "The Banquet of Honors is such a grand event, after all. While this gown might not measure up to what more experienced guests wear, it's not bad for a first-time banquet dress."

The thinly veiled insult made Cheska stiffen, her brow twitching slightly.

"And," Elenoir continued, her tone as casual as if discussing the weather, "it's a good price at 8,000 D'yuras. A high price, of course, but the pink complements your blue eyes so well. Don't you think?"

Cheska stared at the dress, unease prickling at her.

Something felt off, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She was sure it wasn't the insult though.

Before she could respond, Amaranthe's calm voice cut through the moment.

"What an interesting choice," Amaranthe said, her tone light yet deliberate. Her green eyes fixed on the gown with an almost predatory sharpness. "The Harcen Pearls adorning it are quite the statement. Sourced from the goddess's blessed sea, I hear. Truly beautiful."

She gestured toward a gleaming orange pearl sewn into the dress's bodice.

Elenoir's smile widened, clearly pleased. "So you are knowledgeable."

But Amaranthe wasn't done. Her next words came as smoothly as ever, but there was an unmistakable chill in them.

"Though… this particular pearl seems to be of the lowest grade."

"I beg your pardon?"

Amaranthe's gaze didn't waver.

"Harcen Pearls are renowned for their unique pink luster, a result of the goddess's blessing. But this one here lacks that glow entirely. Its orange hue is characteristic of the lowest quality. And, more importantly, the color doesn't even match the pastel tones of the dress."

The duchess stiffened, though she maintained her composure behind her fan.

"The dress is beautifully crafted," Amaranthe continued, her serene tone unwavering, "but with pearls of this grade, 8,000 D'yuras seems a bit excessive. Wouldn't 3,000 D'yuras be more appropriate?"

Cheska's brow twitched again. Something about what she said was oddly familiar...

Elenoir's fan snapped shut with a sharp flick, her smile tightening into something brittle. "Not everyone," she said, her tone clipped, "can appreciate the unique charm of less conventional pieces."

But Amaranthe didn't let her go, "If you like it so much, why not wear it yourself?"

The Duchess clenched the hold on her fan, barely holding on to her patience, smiling once more. "Pink doesn't suit me but thank you for the suggestion, Lady Amara."

With that, she turned sharply, her gown swishing as she made her way back to the racks, her irritation barely concealed.

After what felt like hours of standing, turning, and answering questions about fit and style, Cheska slumped into a plush chair near the boutique's fitting area. She let out a dramatic sigh, exhaustion etched into every fiber of her being.

"This is more intense than anything I've ever experienced…" she muttered, rubbing her sore calves.

During the fitting sessions, clerks brought out various affiliate stores' products—scented oils, perfumes, delicate handkerchiefs, and intricately designed fans. It was a whirlwind of choices, all presented with painstaking care just for the Banquet of Honors.

"I think it's quite intense too," Ayessa agreed, her brow furrowed as she compared two floral-scented perfumes. She held up one in each hand, sniffing them alternately, clearly deep in thought.

Ayessa sighed. "Maybe I should continue with Iya's suggestion…" she muttered unconsciously, picking up a delicate bottle of rosemary perfume—the one she always used—before putting it back down with indecision.

Before she could make her choice, a pale hand intercepted her, plucking the bottle from her grasp.

"Vanilla suits you better, Your Highness," Amaranthe said, her tone calm but firm. "It's elegant and gentle—like you. It is also mature and sweet, good for young wives."

Ayessa blinked, caught off guard by the comment. Her cheeks tinged pink, and she glanced away, bashful under the compliment.

There was something oddly soothing about receiving approval from the ever-imposing Amaranthe.

"Thank you, Lady Amara," Ayessa replied softly, her tone warm.

"You're welcome, Your Highness," Amaranthe said with a slight smile.

The air between them grew calm, a brief but peaceful moment amidst the boutique's bustling activity.

Then, Cheska's trembling voice shattered the quiet.

"A-Amaranthe…!"

Both women turned toward her, their expressions shifting to concern. Cheska was clutching a catalog tightly, her face pale as her wide eyes darted across the page in front of her.

Amaranthe tilted her head slightly. "Is something wrong, Lady Cheska?"

Ayessa stepped closer, peering over Cheska's shoulder. "What is it? Did you see something strange?"

Cheska's hands trembled as she lifted the catalog, turning it to show the glossy page to Amaranthe. Her finger jabbed at a line of text, her voice shaky as she spoke.

"Didn't you notice this before? Or… or is there something wrong with our memories?"

Amaranthe and Ayessa leaned in, their gazes landing on the price tag prominently displayed beneath a luxurious dress.

"8,000 D'yuras."

Ayessa frowned in confusion. "The price? You don't have to worry about it."

Cheska's voice cracked as she pointed again, more urgently this time. "D'yuras…! Isn't D'yuras the currency in your novel?"

A heavy silence fell over the group.

Amaranthe's green eyes lingered on the word, her calm facade cracking ever so slightly. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out.

Her gaze slowly lifted, meeting Cheska's trembling blue eyes.

Ayessa looked between them, her confusion mounting. "What… what does she mean, 'your novel'?"

For the first time since their arrival in this world, Amaranthe looked genuinely shaken.

The boutique's once-cozy atmosphere felt oppressive, the delicate hum of clerks and soft music fading into the background.

Cheska's voice broke the silence, trembling with confusion and dread.

"This world… it's your novel, isn't it, Amaranthe?"