“It was indeed drawn with Your Grace in mind. The clothes depicted in these are what I’d like to propose to you.”
Considering the situation, Eugene was remarkably composed. The outfit in the drawing Lucian pointed to had a look that was both familiar and strange to him. The top resembled the dress coat Eugene was currently holding, but the silhouette was subtly different, and instead of a cravat, the shirt was paired with a simpler, more streamlined tie. But what stood out most was that the figure was wearing trousers—something Eugene had mentioned once before, back in Atrian.
Lucian’s brow furrowed immediately. Reading his reaction, Eugene swallowed hard. Unlike the tights-like bottoms the noblemen had worn at the party the day before, Eugene now understood the image associated with trousers—something closer to modern-day slacks.
Simply put, they were the kind of pants worn by laborers. Bourgeois types, or commoners, that sort of thing. There had apparently been a time when wide-legged trousers like these had been fashionable even in high society, but they’d long since become something only worn by the lower classes.
In other words, Eugene had just proposed that the Grand Duke wear clothing fit for a commoner. And to make matters worse, he’d done so by presenting a drawing that resembled him. It wouldn’t have been strange at all for Lucian to erupt in anger on the spot, but he remained quiet. After all, looking at the drawing alone, it didn’t look bad at all.
Of course, it might just be because it was a drawing, but there were other differences too—details that set it apart from conventional trousers, in terms of length and overall feel. For instance, there was a crease running down the center of the leg, the fit wasn’t too loose, and the length ended cleanly right around the ankle. They were extremely minor details, but those minor changes produced a strikingly different result.
“Eugene Primrose. Just what exactly are you?”
Lucian asked, genuinely curious. First, Eugene had pressed himself close and tried to seduce him, suggesting they leave together, just the two of them—only to fall asleep right before things got started. Then, calm as could be, he’d woken up late in the morning and, without a word of explanation, shoved a few sheets of paper at him while standing there completely naked. From Lucian’s perspective, it was one baffling action after another.
At Lucian’s question, Eugene let out a sigh of his own. It was a fair question, really. If anything, he was grateful Lucian hadn’t simply dismissed it all as nonsense or some kind of joke and had actually looked at the drawings.
“…The third son of House Primrose, who’d like to make a deal with Your Grace…?”
Even Eugene himself thought it was a ridiculous introduction. Apparently Lucian felt the same, letting out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“A deal? With nothing more than these few flimsy sheets of paper?”
“I know how absurd it sounds. And I’m sure you’re wondering how this could possibly amount to a deal. You probably think I might be out of my mind.”
Eugene himself knew just how shameless he was being right now. If it weren’t even for these “flimsy sheets of paper,” as Lucian put it, the whole thing would have sounded even more absurd. It would have helped somewhat if Eugene had already built up some kind of reputation in society—but unfortunately, there simply wasn’t time for that.
“Are you thinking of opening some kind of dress shop, like the ones in Atrian?”
Just as Eugene had expected, Lucian—likely due to his keen interest in fashion—offered up a fairly reasonable guess. Lucian seemed to have at least gotten a general sense of what Eugene was trying to sell.
Lucian, who’d been eyeing Eugene with a skeptical tilt, had by now settled onto the sofa with his legs crossed. Eugene interpreted this shift in Lucian’s attitude as a sign that he was willing to listen, and—worried Lucian might change his mind—pressed on with his explanation without pause.
“No. I’m not a tailor, so I don’t know anything about how clothes are actually made. What I do know is how to dress in a way that’s distinctive, without sacrificing elegance.”
Forgetting both the situation and his own state, Eugene looked at Lucian with confidence as he explained what he intended to do. This was still an era where being “different from everyone else” wasn’t something to be respected. If Lucian hadn’t been a prince of the royal family, he too would likely have been branded an oddball, criticized for his eccentric behavior. As Eugene explained the beginnings of his plan to Lucian, he found himself once again realizing just how long a road lay ahead of him in this world.
“So, in short… I’m proposing to style you, Your Grace, from head to toe. Call it ‘styling.'”
“Styling?”
Lucian tilted his head at the unfamiliar term. Just as Eugene had expected.
“Exactly what it sounds like. Depending on where Your Grace is headed that day, and the nature of the occasion, I’d help you put together the appropriate look—what color clothing to wear, how to style your hair, even down to what pattern of cane to carry. I’d help ensure there’s nothing anyone could possibly find fault with.”
Forgetting how embarrassing he himself looked, Eugene spoke with real conviction. In truth, his appearance wasn’t really the issue here. Whether a beautiful person was undressed or rolling around in the mud, it didn’t change the fact that they were beautiful. Of course, the glaring bite marks on his chest practically demanded attention, but Eugene—standing tall, spine straight, confidently making his case—was beautiful nonetheless.
Savoring the pleasant sound of Eugene’s voice, Lucian sank back into the sofa. As he leaned back, the gold robe he wore slipped open, revealing his thigh through the gap in his crossed legs. At Lucian’s careless display, Eugene quickly averted his gaze, looking up at nothing in particular.
The languid atmosphere and Lucian’s still-damp hair made even such an unremarkable bit of exposure look provocative. And this from the very person standing there completely naked, still bearing every trace of the night’s activities. Lucian, with his long fingers that matched his lean frame, stroked his smooth jaw.
“You sound just like one of those etiquette books the bourgeoisie read.”
“Is there such a thing?”
“There is. Books written for those climbing the social ladder, trying to imitate their betters—how to tie a cravat, how to greet people properly, why you shouldn’t wear pearls or diamond rings with a morning dress, why grey stockings are unacceptable with breeches, that sort of thing.”
Eugene’s eyes lit up. He made a mental note to have Peter find one and read it the moment he returned home. The existence of such a thing made things even easier to explain—after all, Lucian would already understand exactly why such books existed. The reason why, no matter how much money they had, the bourgeoisie could never quite become true nobility.
“What I’m proposing is a little different. I want to set the trends that they aspire to follow. I want to establish a style that everyone—not just the bourgeoisie, but every member of the nobility—looks up to and longs for, to the point where etiquette books like the one you mentioned get written about it. A style that belongs entirely to you, Duke Lucian Highwinter.”
To Lucian’s ears, all Eugene was doing right now was showing him a few drawings and making outlandish claims. It wasn’t remotely appealing, and Lucian felt no particular need to humor the proposal at all.
It was a bit tedious and dull, sure, but he could simply continue doing things the way he always had. There was no real reason to involve Eugene’s input. The only reason he found himself listening so intently to such a useless proposal was, surely, Eugene’s face.
Those cool blue eyes were sparkling unusually bright. Captivated by the way gentle ripples seemed to stir across his eyes, like sunlight glinting off the surface of a freshwater lake, Lucian found himself listening intently to Eugene’s words, almost without realizing it.
So this is what it looks like, a person shining with passion. How nice, Lucian thought, struck anew by the realization. Having listened, as if under some spell, to words that weren’t even worth hearing, Lucian caught himself on the verge of nodding along and quickly corrected his posture.
“Eugene Primrose. Do you even realize what you’re saying right now, looking like that, fresh out of bed?”
He looked like some prickly cat that was impossible to pet without getting clawed, and yet he kept showing these unexpected sides of himself. First seducing him, then leaving him to spend the night alone. When he’d first walked into this room, Lucian had fully intended to humiliate and shame Eugene, then throw him out.
But Eugene, despite his shameless state of undress, didn’t show the slightest hint of embarrassment, and even in the face of Lucian’s clear dismissal, he pressed on with his speech, undeterred. And somehow, Lucian had found himself listening, as if entranced.
Recalling his original intentions, Lucian once again gave Eugene a sharp rebuke. In truth, the words were as much a reminder to himself of the current situation as they were to Eugene.
“If I walk out into the street today, in this weather, wrapped in fox fur, by tomorrow the entire capital will be having a fox fur frenzy. Hyphaelion might end up running out of foxes altogether. You’re well aware of the kind of weight my appearance carries, aren’t you?”
“That’s exactly why I’m daring to make this proposal. Every outfit in those drawings is something I designed myself. You’re always seeking out something new, Your Grace. If you make a deal with me, you’ll never have to go through the trouble of searching for new trends again.”
“This is so clumsy I can’t even call it a proper scam. If anything, I think anyone foolish enough to fall for a proposal like this would have to be an idiot.”
It was truly shameless. Lucian could more or less see through Eugene’s intentions. The only reason he hadn’t cut the conversation short was that the very fact someone who looked like this had such an ulterior motive in mind was so unexpected, so out of keeping with his appearance.
What Eugene had shown him last night had been surprising enough, but what he was seeing now was even more refreshing. The way he kept that face like he was living in his own little world, while running his tongue like some con artist—it piqued Lucian’s interest. But at the same time, it irritated him.
“Were you always this talkative?”
“No. It’s just that, when necessary, I don’t hold back.”
The way Eugene kept respectfully adding rebuttals to every sharp remark thrown at him was certainly unusual too. Lucian should have thrown him out the moment he walked into the room, like the scoundrel he was—but instead, here he was, belatedly regretting it, getting drawn into Eugene’s words. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say he’d thrown himself in.
“What makes you think I’d entrust myself to you, Eugene Primrose? My reputation would be directly tied to it.”
“Of course you can’t trust me. I’m well aware I have nothing to show for myself. But, if I asked Your Grace to go out into the streets wearing nothing but a sack, you wouldn’t do it, would you. So I’m relying purely on Your Grace’s generosity. Please—for my sake.”
“For your sake?”
“Yes. For my sake. Ah… I don’t mean as I look now, but please—think back to how I was last night, at the ball.”
