Chapter 9. I Haven’t Grown That Much (2)
The royal tailor, Setin Slake, dropped the tape measure into his hands in astonishment as his eyes landed on Callian. He quickly retrieved it from the floor and put it away. He then took out a new tape. He then took out a new tape, as anything that had become dirty was not to be used on the royal family.
Slake’s eyes fell on Callian again, he was thoughtful for a moment.
While Yan seemed uneasy about this, Slake opened his mouth,
“Prince, your facial features reminded me of concubine Freya….”
Yan cut him off angrily. As if he had only realized what he had said upon Yan’s rebuke, Slake looked flustered and bowed deeply to Callian.
“My deepest apologies, Your Highness.”
Callian was naturally taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere. When Callian turned to Yan for an explanation, he too bowed deeply,
“I’m sorry. I’ll have someone else come right away.”
Callian’s face was filled with confusion. He didn’t understand the reason for their apology.
Extremely frustrated, Callian hurriedly reviewed his old memories.
‘Why do I have to search through these memories? Can’t the information just surface when I think of it?’
The most relevant memories related to this soon came to his mind. Callian flipped through them as if he were reading a picture book.
The original Callian shuddered whenever he heard about his resemblance to Freya. He had been despised since he could remember because he looked like his mother, whom he had never met. This led him to hate looking at his face in a mirror.
Now he understood why the maid went out to look for a mirror when he asked for one as soon as he woke up in Callian’s body, and why Yan was surprised.
He had always tried to hide his face, but out of nowhere he wanted to see himself.
‘I’m surprised I wasn’t caught.’
Callian let out a sigh. Of course, he didn’t care at all about Freya now, but it would raise suspicions if he said that he had overcome such a trauma overnight. As much as he had changed, he still had to show some discomfort.
Once Callian found the right words, he turned to Slake,
“Do what you have come to do. That remark was unnecessary. I know I look like my mother.”
“Yes. Yes. Let’s get started.”
The two were a little surprised by Callian’s composed reaction, but at least it didn’t seem like it had aroused suspicion.
Slake, who was sure he would be thrown out, straightened up and began to carefully take Calian’s measurements, while his assistant busily wrote them down.
After a while, Slake finished the task and politely advised him,
“I think you need to eat more, Your Highness. I’m worried because of how small you are.”
He had said it out of worry, so there was no reason to be offended. He wasn’t small, but he was certainly thin.
Since the measurements were taken more quickly than expected, Calian thought he could take a little rest before dinner, but then the assistant returned with some thick books. Slake took them, placed them on the table and opened them up one by one.
One had illustrations of different kinds of robes, while another had fabric samples, all of various materials and colors. There was a third book with lots of lace, and a fourth book with illustrations of all kinds of accessories. There was one with similar buttons, and another with hundreds of shoes. But that wasn’t even the end, the assistant still had two more books in his hands.
Callian tilted his head, with an expression that clearly indicated,
‘What is all this for?’
Slake, who noticed his expression, spoke as if the measures were only the first step,
“Now we must prepare your outfits, Your Highness. You need to choose a total of four.”
As exhaustion overtook him even before he began the task at hand, memories of the original Callian provided an explanation.
There were five outfits that had to be prepared. One was the traditional ceremonial attire of a prince, so only four remained.
Callian’s face turned white,
‘Do I have to pick them all?!’
Berne had never experienced this in his own life. It was his mother, the Queen of Secritia, who chose his clothes as a child, and after he became a knight, he always wore the knight’s uniform. He never needed to choose his clothes. In addition, in Secritia there were never such large and luxurious events held for which it was necessary to have five outfits.
But now he didn’t have his mother to choose his outfits for him, nor a knight’s uniform.
Reluctance was evident in his expression, so Yan spoke beside him,
“Your Highness has changed a lot these days. However, there are no high society events scheduled this month due to preparations for His Majesty’s birthday. That means that on the king’s birthday it will be the first time that you will appear changed in front of others.”
“In other words, you say that I should dress well to make a good first impression.”
“Yes. That’s right, Your Highness.”
“Well, I understand that…”
Callian looked at the open books that filled the table. The mere sight of them made him feel tired.
‘With a body that couldn’t even use mana, how would clothes attract attention?’
“But I don’t have good taste in clothes, you all can choose them for me.”
He meant Yan and the maids. While he wanted to give up the tiresome task, Yan’s eyes lit up,
“Are you sure?”
Callian nodded and sat down on the sofa.
And so began a passionate fight of opinions.
The maids had followed Callian silently for the past two days, they hadn’t said a word, but now they raised their voices excitedly, with the desire to make Callian stand out in some way.
Callian, who was listening to the discussion without much interest, occasionally expressed his opinion as well.
“I don’t want bow ties. Not even a small one.”
After a brief moment of disappointment, other ideas occurred to them.
Eventually, Callian intervened again.
“Not too many frills.”
They didn’t give up.
“… How about these laces?”
‘What the hell are they trying to do? Do they want everyone to make fun of me?’
In the end, Callian also joined the discussion. Rather than worry about mana, he had to first avoid so many frills.