When I Finished Playing the Terminally-Ill Villainous Omega C30

Chapter 30

A few days later…

The owner of the boutique came to the estate.

Howard told me that the boutique that usually handled my clothes was fully booked, so he’d contacted the next most reputable one instead. As soon as I heard that, I had Locke summoned to the drawing room.

Ignoring the cost, I instructed the owner to make him the finest outfit possible.

The boutique owner bowed repeatedly in gratitude before crooking a finger at Locke, who stood quietly by the door.

“You’re living the good life, having met such a generous master. Ever had custom-made clothes before?”

“No.”

The owner strode over to Locke and, without a word, pulled open his clothes.

Well-defined abdominal muscles came into view.

Startled, I quickly looked away—only for my eyes to land on a measuring tape sticking halfway out of the unzipped bag beside the owner.

I looked back at him.

Without even taking out the tape, he merely sized Locke up with his eyes while jotting notes into a notebook.

Because I grew thinner by the day, I had new clothes made every two months.

Whenever that happened, the tailor always measured every part of my body with a tape and carefully recorded it.

Crossing my arms, I tilted my head.

Even with me watching, the owner clicked his tongue.

“You’re the tall one. You should bend down instead of making me stand on my tiptoes.”

He casually patted along Locke’s thigh.

Then, with a strange grin, he remarked,

“I thought this was a pillar instead of a leg.”

It was practically harassment.

Different tailors might have different ways of taking measurements.

But looking down on a customer—

Especially treating my friend that way—

Wasn’t something I could overlook.

Before being my friend, Locke was a servant of the Hestian household.

The fact that the man acted this way while I—the client—was watching meant he wasn’t merely disrespecting Locke.

He was disrespecting me.

There was no reason to tolerate it any longer.

Suppressing my displeasure, I said quietly after hearing him claim that, since Locke had never had custom clothing made before, he probably wouldn’t know anything about current fashions.

“Even so, everyone has their own preferences. Shouldn’t you at least show him a catalogue or some fabric samples?”

“Those things are only useful for people who’ve had clothes made before. That fellow wouldn’t know what he’s looking at anyway. Or perhaps you’d like to choose for him, Young Master?”

I crooked a finger, calling the owner over.

Normally I never summoned even the lowest servant with a gesture like that.

But I had no reason to spare the feelings of someone who looked down on one of my people.

From the pouch of money I’d prepared for payment, I took out only three copper coins and tossed them onto the table.

The owner looked bewildered.

“…Young Master, forgive me, but the minimum price for one custom outfit from our boutique is six gold coins and five silver coins. And since you requested the finest quality, it’d cost another six gold coins. This doesn’t even cover the price of one sleeve.”

I answered immediately.

“I’ve commissioned enough clothes to know that I don’t overlook boutiques that treat their customers disrespectfully.”

Only then did the owner realize his mistake.

He immediately bent deeply at the waist.

“M-My apologies! I wasn’t speaking about you, Young Master.”

“What exactly did I say earlier?”

“…Pardon?”

He blinked blankly.

“Didn’t I clearly tell you that I didn’t care how much it cost? That I wanted the very best outfit?”

“Y-Yes! Of course. I remember, and I fully intended to make exactly that.”

I gave a small scoff.

“Remarkable. You claim you can make perfectly fitted clothes simply by looking at someone. On top of that, you treat a customer as though he were a servant. It seems you think rather lightly of House Hestian.”

The owner hesitated before answering confidently.

“Certainly not! It’s only because I have so much experience that I can accurately judge measurements by sight.”

“Really?”

I stood up from the sofa.

Pulling the measuring tape from his half-open bag, I walked over and held out my hand.

“Show me the measurements you recorded for Locke.”

“…Pardon?”

“Your notebook.”

I beckoned impatiently.

The owner looked troubled.

“Th-There are measurements for other customers in here as well, so I can’t reveal other people’s information…”

“I didn’t ask for theirs. I asked for his.”

“There are several customers’ measurements on the same page…”

“Are you going to keep lying to me?”

I smiled coldly.

“Fine. Then read Locke’s measurements out loud. Every single one.”

Only then did he realize I wasn’t merely testing him.

With a thud, he dropped to his knees.

“I beg your forgiveness, Young Master. But no custom outfit is ever one hundred percent precise. Every boutique has a margin of one or two centimeters…”

“If that were your only mistake, I wouldn’t have dismissed you. I’d simply have told you to measure him properly.”

I looked him straight in the eye.

“Your greatest mistake was failing to treat your customer like a customer. What kind of merchant calls a paying client ‘that guy’ and speaks to him so disrespectfully?”

“I… I’m terribly sorry…”

“Consider this payment for the trouble of coming all the way here. Before I start criticizing every sloppy note you’ve written in that notebook, wouldn’t it be wiser to take the money and leave?”

The owner opened his mouth to argue again.

I cut him off.

“If you say one more word, I may feel inclined to share this experience with every noble house I know.”

Only then did he hurriedly gather his belongings and the coins before leaving the drawing room.

A little later, Locke watched the carriage disappear through the window before turning toward me.

“Was all that really necessary?”

“How could I possibly do business with someone who looks down on his customers?”

“You didn’t need to have clothes made for me in the first place. Had I known that was why you summoned me, I wouldn’t have come.”

“What noble brings a servant to a banquet dressed like a beggar? House Hestian is a family that values dignity and etiquette. We have to observe proper decorum more than anyone.”

I quickly added,

“Not that I’m saying you look like a beggar. You’re handsome, and your physique is excellent. You’d stand out even wearing rags.”

I smiled.

“But a banquet has rules and standards. No matter how handsome you are, you can’t just wear anything.”

Locke stared at me for quite a while.

Then, unexpectedly, his expression softened.

“…Do you really think I’m handsome?”

Today’s sunlight streaming through the window made his golden eyes shine even more brilliantly than usual.

Perhaps it was the sunlight warming his face, but suddenly I felt oddly warm myself.

I hastily turned my head away.

“You ask that while looking at my face? You’ve got some nerve.”

I mumbled the answer and looked elsewhere.

That’s when my eyes met Howard’s, who had been quietly watching us from a distance.

Clearing my throat awkwardly, I asked him to contact the boutique that usually made my clothes.

“Tell them it’s urgent. Ask them to come as soon as possible. And make sure to mention that I’m willing to pay any additional fee.”

Howard looked between Locke and me before letting out a deep sigh.

“I’ll arrange the earliest appointment possible.”

There were few things money couldn’t accomplish.

That was true in this world just as it was in the real one.

❖ ❖ ❖

A few days later, the retired owner of the boutique personally visited the estate, leaving the shop in the hands of his apprentices.

Dressed in elegant clothes, the man entered the drawing room with a warm smile.

I’d expected someone much older, since he’d already retired from active work.

Instead—

He was strikingly handsome.

“It is an honor to meet the youngest son of Count Hestian. I am James Rose, owner of Rosemoon.”

He smiled brightly.

He certainly deserved the reputation of running one of the finest boutiques in the capital.

He was meticulous and had excellent taste.

As we looked through the catalogue, every outfit he recommended for Locke suited him perfectly.

Naturally, the man himself simply replied that anything was fine and looked eager for this tedious process to end.

The proof was that he picked the plainest design available.

But James refused to give up.

He enthusiastically suggested adding detail after detail.

Every idea pleased me.

I turned to Locke after each suggestion.

“What do you think?”

At first, Locke looked mildly annoyed and tried to stop me.

But as the discussion dragged on, he seemed to resign himself and simply nodded at every recommendation I made.

Once the design was finalized, James picked up a measuring tape and approached him.

“I’ll create the perfect outfit tailored exclusively for you. Leave everything to me.”

His bright, reassuring smile was an added bonus.

Yes.

This is how it’s supposed to be.

Watching him carefully ask questions, measure every detail, and write everything down finally made the tight knot in my chest loosen.

With determination shining in his eyes, he began measuring Locke from the neck downward.

Shoulders.

Arms.

Sleeves.

Every measurement was taken with meticulous care.

Then he moved on to the waist.

Holding the tape in both hands, he wrapped his arms around Locke’s waist.

The moment I saw it…

I froze.

A strange, inexplicable sting pricked at something deep inside me.

James wasn’t looking down on Locke.

If anything, he treated him with the same courtesy he would a noble.

He measured him carefully and thoroughly.

He even mixed in jokes and compliments now and then to keep his customer relaxed.

So…

What exactly was bothering me?

No matter how much I thought about it—

I couldn’t figure it out.