NOVPUB“Astonishing.”
Hans, who had safely exited the meeting hall with me, still looked dazed, as if caught in a dream.
“What is?”
“The ideas you brought up, Boss. I’ve seen and heard a lot in my time, but even for me... that was something else.”
“It’s nothing special.”
“Nothing special, huh. But you came up with all of that, didn’t you?”
“I only recalled things I saw from others. I can't call them mine.”
All I did was offer a direction based on the history I had seen back on Earth.
These ideas weren’t my original creations—they were the fruits of an era’s pioneers, paid for in sweat and blood.
There was no reason to decorate them as my own or act superior as if it was all obvious.
“Still, it’s incredible. In any case, all the organizations agreed to follow your lead.”
“It’s not absolute obedience.”
They said they would join under me, but that didn’t mean they would obey every order.
I understand how they feel. So I don’t resent them.
After all, I’ve shown them very little reason to blindly follow me.
That’s why I need to see this upcoming project through successfully—to earn their genuine loyalty.
“There’s no shortage of business sites to use. And we’ve got more than enough seed money.”
The establishments the Red Society used until now, the money they’d been hoarding. And on top of that, Belvotte Rixon’s slush fund.
Just by making use of those, we already had more than enough capital.
“But that’s not what’s important right now.”
I stopped in my tracks and turned around, staring at a shadowed corner of the alley.
“If you’ve got business with me, you might as well show yourself.”
“...Excuse me?”
Hans blinked in confusion, but only for a moment—before a woman stepped out from the shadows.
A refined lady in black mourning garb, her face hidden behind a black lace veil.
It was Violetta, the leader of the Women of the Black Rose.
“I take it you have something to discuss with me—seeing as you came alone without any escorts.”
“Yes. I was hoping we could speak quietly, just the two of us.”
“Hmm, is that so. Hans.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Go on ahead.”
“...Will you be alright?”
“What, me?”
“No. No, never mind. Just me worrying over nothing.”
Hans shrugged his shoulders and disappeared into the alleyway with practiced ease.
And just like that, it was only Violetta and I left in the quiet street.
“Shall we walk?”
“No. Let’s just talk here.”
“As you wish.”
Violetta didn’t waste time getting to the point. She clearly had a lot on her mind.
“Do you truly believe our business will succeed the way you claim?”
“If you’re referring to that business, ah, yes... that one.”
I had proposed a musical to Kirkus, the troupe led by Finion. It had a matching vision, and I believed it had real potential.
But the Women of the Black Rose were different.
You couldn’t expect the same kind of showmanship from them as with Kirkus.
So what kind of business should they pursue?
That’s where ‘fashion’ came in.
Clothing, attire, design.
That’s what I had proposed to them.
“You think it doesn’t have a chance?”
In this world, the clothing industry is a major sector.
From ancient times, people have used clothing to express their style and identity—and they’ve never hesitated to spend vast sums for it.
That hasn’t changed in this world either.
“The clothing market is tightly held by the nobles and wealthy merchants.”
“Exactly.”
“...And each of them has built their own solidified brand. No one else can squeeze in.”
I nodded.
The leading names in fashion today are the brands that sell to nobles exclusively.
Expensive, high-quality materials. Gorgeous, luxurious designs.
There’s a term—Haute Couture.
Custom-made clothes tailored by designers for the upper classes.
It’s a privilege reserved for the noble and highborn. This era is no different.
Brands born for the aristocracy alone.
Every time a ball or a party is held, noblewomen parade around in gowns from those brands.
And this culture, this status quo, has long since hardened—resistant to any change for over a decade.
“You believe we can break through all that?”
“It won’t be easy.”
Fashion in this world is monopolized by the wealthy elite.
But that doesn’t mean fashion belongs only to the rich.
Yes, the logic of the market follows the logic of money.
And trends always follow the footsteps of those with wealth.
“But trends always change. And the current fashion has held its place for far too long. It’s time for a shift.”
“That’s easier said than done.”
“You’re surprisingly knowledgeable about the fashion world.”
“...”
At my remark, Violetta fell silent.
Like someone caught off guard.
“You must’ve had a lot of interest in it.”
“...Is that a problem?”
Violetta’s tone rose slightly, defensive.
Her profession was a prostitute, shunned by society.
No matter that she led an organization or possessed striking beauty—her origins were branded upon her.
A mark she could never shed, no matter how hard she struggled.
“It’s not a problem. In fact, if you’re genuinely interested, it means our goals are aligned. That’s a good thing.”
“So you really believe this is possible.”
“You saw the designs I gave you, didn’t you?”
I had handed her fewer than ten fashion sketches, but I’m sure they made a deep impression on her.
They were almost the opposite of what today’s fashion stood for—obsessively luxurious and decorative.
Instead, they were lighter, more comfortable garments.
Fashion not just for a chosen few, but something the masses could choose for themselves.
Not High Fashion for the elite, but Mass Fashion for the many.
Or in this case, perhaps it would be better called Prêt-à-Porter.
Prêt-à-Porter.
That is, ready-to-wear clothing.
The clothes sold by most current brands are purely ornamental—impractical for daily life.
So emerged a new form: functional designs refined with style.
Clothes you could wear in everyday life, effortlessly.
And yet still carry the image of luxury.
Not the exclusive domain of nobles—but a path open to more people.
Historically, even on Earth, after the Industrial Revolution, large-scale production made this possible. Old-fashioned couture faded, and mass-market clothing took center stage.
The blatant upper-class culture that only the few could afford was inevitably pushed aside by popular culture.
“Yes. I saw them. And I was honestly shocked. I never thought ideas like that would come from a man like you.”
“They’re not mine. I got them from someone else.”
“Whatever the case, it’s definitely innovative. Of course, there are parts that need fixing, and some things I don’t like.”
“Is that so? I’ll leave those parts to your discretion.”
“...We’re going to face some serious pushback.”
Not a rejection, then.
But I’d accounted for that already.
What I’m trying to do is drag those who’ve lived in the shadows out into the light.
And at the same time, I’m essentially declaring war on a culture long-enjoyed by the upper crust of society.
It may be a change destined to come eventually—but accelerating it means inevitable conflict with the establishment.
“But we will win.”
History has already proven that.
Even though this world has magic and mystery that Earth never had, humans are still humans. Some overlap is unavoidable.
Where there is life, there is change.
“We can’t live buried beneath the surface forever.”
“...You’re not what I expected.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I first saw you, I thought you were cold and rigid. But now I see you’re burning with ambition more than anyone.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
I tipped my fedora slightly in reply.
In any case, the Women of the Black Rose will soon open clothing stores based on the businesses I handed over to them.
It’s too early to start with high-end tailor shops.
For now, they’ll sell clothes the general public can actually wear.
But they won’t be the same worn-out styles you see scattered across the streets.
“It’ll start small, but we’ll expand gradually.”
The woman in front of me, especially, had an exceptional eye for fashion.
Whether it was talent or sheer effort... perhaps both.
She’d probably suppressed that side of herself for years due to her humble origins—but there was no need for that anymore.
Now she could finally pursue what she truly wanted.
“You won’t have to constantly worry about protecting your sisters from the scum out there. If anyone like that shows up... I’ll deal with them myself.”
And with that, I handed over one more proposal.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
To carry out their desires freely, those women needed a pillar of support.
And I would be that pillar.
“Is that so.”
“And if you manage to establish yourself properly, you might even be able to apply your magic to fashion.”
“...!”
At my words, Violetta’s entire body flinched.
I couldn’t see her expression because of the black lace veil, but it was obvious that she was stunned.
“You thought I didn’t know?”
“...How did you find out?”
“A mage knows another mage.”
The fact that Violetta, merely a high-end prostitute, had been able to form a force like the Women of the Black Rose in the underworld of Rederbelk—
That meant she had something she believed in.
Namely, the power of magic.
“...It’s nothing impressive, really.”
“Even if it’s not impressive, you wouldn’t be able to use magic at all without talent. Who taught you?”
“Just one of my wealthy mage clients. I whispered sweet nothings about love while he wore a mask, and he got so pleased he taught me a few spells.”
“I see.”
“Not that it ever let me shed the status of a high-end prostitute.”
Even if she knew how to use magic, her status was still fixed. That was reality.
“And you’re saying... you’ll lift someone like us all the way up there?”
That was Violetta’s true question.
She had ambition, but her position forced her to hide it.
The same went for everyone else.
The downtrodden.
Those scorned and despised by everyone else, with nowhere to lean but each other, at the very bottom of the social order.
The wall they felt before they could even begin to try—was towering.
Even someone like Violetta, who acted so composed, clearly harbored deep anxiety about this venture. The others must have it far worse.
The wall of birthright.
In the end, everyone despaired and collapsed before it.
That was the harsh reality.
“Of course.”
“...You mean it.”
“What matters isn’t who does it, but how well it’s done. And aren’t you curious?”
“...About what?”
“When the people they’ve always scorned and trampled start crawling up from below—what kind of face will those lofty elites make?”
“Pfft. Ahahahaha!”
At my words, Violetta burst into laughter, clutching her stomach.
Gone was the courteous demeanor of a noblewoman—in its place was the carefree laugh of a girl shedding a heavy burden.
“Hahaha. That sounds fun. Really fun.”
“Exactly. It’s something worth taking a shot at.”
“You win. I admit it, James Moriarty. We, the Women of the Black Rose—will put our trust in you.”
With that, Violetta lifted the veil from her face.
“If we’re going to work together, I can’t keep hiding forever, can I?”
The face hidden beneath the black veil—
As her voice and graceful bearing had already suggested, she was indeed beautiful.
But—
Marring what should’ve been an exquisite face was a terrible burn.
A burn that stretched near the corner of her left eye, ruining her beauty.
“...A magical burn, huh.”
“Well, what can I say. I knew what I was getting into the moment I let a deranged mage, who mistook twisted obsession for love, teach me magic.”
“...”
I didn’t ask what happened to that mage.
No one would punish a sorcerer for leaving a mere prostitute with a facial scar.
He was probably still living large somewhere.
And yet—
Even after being disfigured like that, Violetta stood up—to protect women who were in the same place she once was.
She learned magic for that.
Abandoning her dreams as a woman. Abandoning her future.
“Ugly, isn’t it?”
“No. It’s not ugly at all.”
How could I see that kind of will, that kind of resolve, as ugly?
“You are... truly a strong woman.”
Which only made me like her more.
Because someone like this—was someone I could trust and work with.
“Even if it’s just flattery, I’ll take the compliment.”
“Did it sound like flattery to you?”
In that case, I ought to give her a gift as well.
“You’ve shown me something. It’s only proper I show you something in return.”
“...Huh?”
“Hold still.”
As I said this, I slowly reached my hand toward Violetta’s face.
She widened her eyes in alarm, but when our gazes met, she stood her ground with firm resolve.
She was choosing to trust me.
“As you know, I’m a mage.”
“Yes. You used that power to destroy the Red Society. But don’t tell me you’re planning something absurd—like healing my scars with magic? It’s too late for that. Even the priests of the Lumensys Order gave up.”
“That’s only true... for ordinary magic.”
“Ordinary magic...?”
Violetta didn’t seem to understand what I meant.
Of course. She wouldn’t. Not even if I explained.
“What exactly are you planning to do?”
“Just think of it as ‘real magic’.”
“Real magic...?”
That’s all I said, as I began to channel a bit of my mana.
And with it, I drew upon a portion of the power I usually kept sealed.
Paaah.
In the dim alley lit only by slivers of moonlight—
A pure white glow rose, warm enough to soften even the hardest heart, then faded.
“It’s done.”
I withdrew my hand from where it had been hovering over Violetta’s burn.
“What...?”
“Take a look for yourself.”
Violetta quickly pulled out a small hand mirror and checked her reflection.
The burn that had once marred one side of her face had vanished without a trace.
Her trembling gaze turned to me.
“H-How... What did you... What did you ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) just do?”
“Didn’t I tell you?”
I gave a small shrug.
“Real magic.”
