Find the One Who Abandoned Me - Chapter 66

“I need a debutante dress.”

The statement was unexpected.

“I’ve seen dresses from all the so-called ‘top designers’ in the capital, but none of them impressed me. Then I remembered… that cheap little dress you sold me back then.”

The dress Calliope had bought for eighty sillons—she now referred to it as “cheap.”
Maybe it hadn’t seemed that way then, but to the current her, it barely even qualified as “cheap.”

“Still, it wasn’t bad. It was… decent.”

Calliope spoke with calm arrogance, hands neatly folded on her lap.
Celia and Romanda didn’t dare show offense. They nodded eagerly instead.

“So I thought… I need someone who can make something fresh. Something designed solely for me.”

Romanda swallowed hard.

“A-are you saying… you’ve chosen me?”

“Your atelier is small. Humble, really. I imagine you’ve never had the means to make the dresses you truly wanted to. Am I wrong?”

“N-no, you’re absolutely right.”

Romanda nodded vigorously.
She hadn’t been able to use the kinds of luxurious fabrics nobles wore. Her little shop, outside the capital, couldn’t afford them. She always thought: If I had better fabric, I could make something better.

Everyone says true artisans don’t blame their tools—but Romanda disagreed.

“A beautiful dress begins with beautiful fabric.”

That was her belief.
And now, the person who could give her that opportunity sat right in front of her.

“Jack.”

At Calliope’s signal, Jack opened the door.
Several bolts of fabric—carefully rolled and prepared by the maids—were placed on the drawing room table.

Romanda nearly fainted.

“T-this fabric…”

It came from the deep winter forests of the northern territories. Even wealthy nobles had trouble obtaining it—much less commoners.
She couldn’t even bring herself to touch it, trembling as she looked on.

“A-are you entrusting this to me?”

“Not yet. You brought your design books, didn’t you?”

“O-of course!”

Romanda practically snatched the books from Celia’s arms and laid them out.
Jack picked one up, knelt beside Calliope, and began flipping through the pages, showing them one by one.

“These are close to what I had in mind.”

Romanda swallowed again.
She knew—this was it. The turning point in her life.

If she succeeded, a new world would open.
If not, she’d return to her small pond, just another forgotten frog.

Thump.
Once Calliope finished flipping through the designs, Jack tossed the book onto the table.

“Take the eighth design from the first book, and the thirteenth design from the seventh. Combine them into one. If it passes, you’ll be allowed to make my debutante dress.”

“I—I’ll give it everything I have! Please trust me!”

“M-me too! I’ll do my best!”

Romanda was nothing if not ambitious.
Celia, ever the quiet assistant, said nothing discouraging and simply nodded along—which, frankly, was a relief.

Romanda spoke up.

“Should we begin right away?”

“Yes.”

The bold offer became reality.

“W-when do you need it by?”

“Let’s see. Considering how long it’ll take to construct it…”

Calliope smiled—bright and elegant, yet her words hit like a guillotine.

“Tomorrow evening.”

“O-one day…?”

“If you need anything, ask the maids. If you need more fabric, request it. If you’re thirsty, ask for tea. If you’re hungry, have them bring you a full meal.”

“W-we couldn’t possibly—”

“All you need to do is finish my dress on time. Do that, and everything changes.”

Calliope fixed her gaze on Romanda.

“You understand that, don’t you?”

Romanda gripped her skirt tightly, then nodded with fierce determination.
It wasn’t loyalty—it was ambition.

“Anything you ask.”

“Good. That’s the attitude I like. A room has been prepared. Everything you need should be there.”

Before they could even respond, Calliope stood and left the drawing room.

Click.

The door closed softly behind her.

Jack moved to her side.

“…Do you think they can actually do it?”

“If they fail, they just go back to their old lives,” Calliope replied simply.
“Why? You don’t trust them?”

“Well, it’s just… they’re commoners from a small shop outside the capital. If they were really that talented, they would’ve already made it into the capital, don’t you think?”

“Hmmm~”

Calliope let out a low hum—something between amusement and annoyance. Jack tilted his head, not quite understanding her tone. Honestly, it was getting to the point where that little head tilt was almost… cute. She was growing fond of him, like it or not.

“Jack, I have a question.”

“Yes, my lady. Please ask.”

“Do nobles ever peer into wells?”

He looked confused.

“Wells? Of course not.”

“What about wells outside the estate? Ones in village towns?”

“Even less likely, I’d say.”

“Exactly.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s exactly the point.”

“Huh?”

“Being born inside the capital is a privilege all on its own. That’s what I’m saying.”

She turned and walked off, leaving Jack blinking like a frog.
He still didn’t get it, but trailed after her all the same.

“I mean, I think I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t really understand what you’re saying.”

“What kind of nonsense is that?”

“I’m just being honest about how confused I am.”

“Of course. You’re a noble, after all.”

“Aren’t you also a noble, my lady?”

Calliope reached out and flicked his nose. Her fingers were delicate—it couldn’t have hurt—but Jack grabbed his nose with an exaggerated groan anyway.

“Would you have called the old me a noble?”

Without waiting for an answer, she arrived at her room, opened the door herself, and stepped inside.
Jack stood staring at the closed door, scratching his head.

He still didn’t know how to answer that question.

The next day, at lunch.

Calliope was finishing her tea after a quiet meal when the two women burst into the room.

“H-here it is!”

“We finished it!”

“Oh? Already?”

The door flew open. Both women were standing there with dark circles under their eyes.
After just one night, it looked like the fatigue had sunk all the way to their jaws. Calliope wondered if she was imagining the weight loss.

“That was fast. Let me see.”

“It was easier than expected since you’d already chosen from our previous designs. We just had to combine them properly.”

While Celia spoke, Romanda—hands trembling—offered a single design sketch.

Calliope looked it over.

She smiled, faintly.

That smile was hard to read. Romanda and Celia tensed, trying to guess if it meant approval or rejection.

Finally, Calliope spoke.

“Better than I expected.”

“Oh…”

“We really poured our hearts into this,” Celia added, breathless.

Romanda gave a confident nod.

Calliope chuckled softly at their passion.

“Oh dear, if you’ve already poured your souls into this dress, that’s going to be a problem. I’ll need you to make several more for me. You can’t be burned out already, can you?”

Romanda gasped.

“I-I’ve got soul left! Plenty of it!”

“Haha.”

Calliope laughed genuinely and handed the sketch back.

“No revisions needed. I’d also like a matching suit designed—something in a contrasting color. Don’t worry about tailoring it, I’ll provide the people for that. Just focus on the design.”

“Understood. Absolutely.”

“For now, stay in the annex. Once the debutante ball is over, we’ll look into setting up a shop in the capital.”

“In… the capital?”

“A shop?”

“What, would you prefer I keep traveling outside the city just to see you? Here’s my only condition—no matter who comes to you, I take priority. Even if it’s someone from a Duke’s family, or royalty. Nobles respect the one who first discovers a designer—so I’m sure you’ll be fine with that.”

“Yes, of course!”

“Thank you—truly!”

“Less talking, more sewing. This isn’t the kind of work that finishes itself.”

“Yes, my lady!”

Like a gust of wind, the two disappeared as fast as they came.

Calliope called for Jack and told him to gather seamstresses and lace workers.

“Did you really like it?” he asked.

“Yes. You will too, when you see it.”

“As if my opinion means anything.”

“Oh please. Your eyes belong to one of those nobles who never bothers to look into wells, remember?”

She sipped her tea, amused by her own playful jab.

Jack, as usual, just stood there speechless.
Whether he stayed or not was up to him.

The dress came along smoothly.

Now free to use fabrics she’d never dared touch before, Romanda worked like a fish finally tossed into deep water.
Celia stood by, clapping and cheering, throwing in phrases like, “That’s amazing!” and “You’re incredible!” to boost morale.

Today was the portrait sitting.
The base sketch had already been completed. It was time to add color.

Calliope had deliberately avoided looking at the preliminary drafts.

She trusted Riona’s instincts—instincts that were both intuitive and abstract.
Despite her artistic flair, Riona’s technique was hyper realistic. Her brush could capture more truth than a mirror.

That’s exactly why Calliope hadn’t wanted a simply “pretty” portrait.

She wanted to see herself as Riona saw her.

“Good day, Lady Calliope Anastas.”

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