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Despite the kind way she phrased the question, Madam still looked bewildered.
“I am indeed the owner of this place... but I don't quite understand what you mean, Young Lady.”
“Madam, do you realistically think it's possible for a woman to open and maintain an expensive dress shop in this neighborhood all by herself? Truly?”
“That is...”
Madam's expression clouded slightly, as if she had a suspicion.
I didn't know what kind of contract had been exchanged between Yulan and Madam, but it was certainly a different kind of story than I had imagined.
'Did she agree to receive a certain amount of profit in exchange for giving up full ownership? Well, not that it's any of my business.'
Regardless of their contract, I only needed to deliver my letter and my words.
Considering the answer I expected in return, I could afford to pay for a dress or two; that was a trivial matter.
“I don't care what you did in exchange for someone's help, or what that person demanded. I simply have something to say to them, and you just need to deliver it. Is that too difficult?”
For a high-ranking noble, this was an incredibly kind and considerate proposal.
To put it bluntly, the difference in status between Yevgenia and Madam was such that Yevgenia could have tortured her right here, demanding she bring Yulan immediately, without any repercussions.
Madam seemed to realize this belatedly; after a brief moment of hesitation, she spoke.
“Young Lady, I am well aware of how great the consideration you are showing me is.”
“Hmm.”
“However, if I were to betray the loyalty I owed my investor so easily, who on earth would ever want to invest in me again? Especially someone like...”
Madam paused and looked around the shabby dress shop.
Unconsciously, my eyes followed her gaze.
Madam waited until Yevgenia fully recognized the dress shop—or more accurately, the 'situation' of the shop—before speaking again.
“...A Madam who runs a failing dress shop.”
Because Madam had exposed her own weakness first, it became awkward for Yevgenia to press her further.
Madam had likely intended this when she shifted her gaze.
However, Madam was mistaken about one thing.
Yevgenia was a person who would do anything to achieve her goal.
“Then I shall invest in you, Madam. How much do you want? 100 gold? 1,000 gold?”
...And she was a person with the means to do so.
A commoner running a reasonably successful dress shop—one that could be considered prestigious—earned about 5 gold a year.
The owner of a dress shop in the prime area of the capital, housed in a lavish three-story building where no one below the rank of Count could even get an appointment, might earn 50 gold.
From the perspective of Madam, who knew this fact very well, the 100 gold or 1,000 gold Yevgenia mentioned felt impossibly distant.
Pale with shock, Madam stammered.
“Y-Young Lady, I do not know how a noble person such as yourself became interested in my investor, but I am not so foolish as to blindly accept such an unbelievable offer.”
“Hmm? An unbelievable offer. Why is that?”
“Because... no matter how much money nobles have, th-that amount is simply absurd. Moreover, there is no way a young person like you could mobilize that much money...”
Seeing Madam say everything she wanted to say while trembling, it seemed there were quite a few hurdles to overcome to persuade her.
I had my doubts, but I didn't expect her to truly not know who I was.
In the center of the capital, especially in the high-class districts where nobles frequented, there were plenty of people who would run away in terror at the mere sight of the tips of her red hair.
That was why she usually received catalogs at the mansion and called for the one she liked, rather than walking outside.
While she didn't enjoy that fact, it felt a bit tedious to have to teach everything one by one to someone who knew nothing about her.
'To persuade her as gently and non-aggressively as possible, so it doesn't feel like a threat...'
Swallowing a sigh, Yevgenia glanced at her watch.
'Good, Anna should have arrived at the bakery by now. She said it's particularly crowded at this hour, so it'll be a while before she comes.'
In that case, there was time to give Madam a brief reality check.
Sitting on the sofa with her legs crossed, Yevgenia stared silently at Madam.
Madam, who had been rambling, sensed something strange and shut her mouth.
In the silenced dress shop, only Yevgenia remained composed.
“Madam.”
“Y-yes?”
“What kind of Young Lady do I look like?”
“...Pardon?”
To Yevgenia, it was a question asked out of kindness, but to Madam, it was not.
It sounded like a declaration of war—a question with no right answer, meaning 'I intend to torment you from now on.'
Trying to hide her trembling hands, Madam spoke cautiously.
“The, the nobility I feel from you... is quite immense, and your elegance is overflowing...”
“Overflowing?”
“I mean... um... a Count's Young Lady...”
That was the highest title a commoner like Madam could dare to utter.
Anything higher made her legs shake just thinking about it.
To put it bluntly, if the Young Lady before her were even a Marquess's daughter, Madam could be arrested for insulting a noble and sent to the scaffold in the blink of an eye.
The people who existed 'above that' were those who could do such things for absurd reasons, like finding Madam's gaze unpleasant or her breathing foul.
Therefore, this Young Lady must not be above that.
She couldn't be.
'There's no way a Marquess's or Duke's daughter would come to a place like this...'
All Madam could do now was observe what kind of reaction and attitude this Count's daughter—presumably—wanted from her.
Observing Madam's wavering gaze, Yevgenia spoke while resting her chin on her hand.
“You're fine in every other way, Madam, but your lack of imagination is a flaw. Or perhaps I should say your lack of information?”
“...Pardon?”
“I've never heard of another Young Lady in this Empire who possesses hair resembling such a beautiful rose besides myself...”
As she spoke, Yevgenia twirled the ends of her hair, and Madam stared at her blankly.
In Madam's mind, which had gone white with tension, the phrase 'Red-haired Young Lady' popped up.
If it were the most famous red-haired Young Lady in the Empire...
“M-M-M-M-Martyr... D-D-D-Duke's Young Lady...”
“M-m-m-Martyr D-d-d-Duke's Young Lady? That's quite a novel way to address me. I prefer to be called simply Young Lady Martyr.”
Madam looked as if she had stopped breathing entirely.
In fact, she actually wasn't breathing.
Letting out a hollow laugh, Yevgenia made a snapping sound with her fingers.
Only then did Madam regain her senses and take a hurried deep breath.
“H-h-how, no, why, I mean, why on earth...”
“I told you. I have business with the person who invested in you.”
“Young Lady, no, Y-Young Lady Martyr.”
Just uttering Yevgenia's family name made Madam look as if she were about to faint.
However, the determined expression that overrode that pallor possessed a strength that even Yevgenia could not easily dismiss.
Swallowing hard, Madam spoke.
“...I am sorry, but even if you were not Young Lady Martyr, but the Imperial Princess herself, I c-cannot betray the investor who trusted me.”
“Hmm?”
“O-of course, Young Lady Martyr's offer is incredibly... generous, and I know I am in no position to dare refuse it, but...”
Madam, her voice trembling, squeezed her eyes shut.
As if gathering every ounce of courage she possessed.
“Even if you cut off my h-head! I do not care. Because I will never betray that person!”
A gaze that looked firmly decided.
The moment she met those eyes, Yevgenia realized.
'Hmm, it seems I really have absolutely no talent for persuasion.'
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