Chapter 6

Funeral (1)

“Necktie…? What is that?”

The tailor’s reaction made me just as confused.

Does this world not have neckties? That can’t be. I even drew Seymour wearing one when I designed him.

Then I remembered—it was from concept art set a year later. At the current point in time, neckties apparently didn’t exist yet.

So then… could all these strangely old-fashioned clothes be…

I had assumed the tailor was only showing me outdated garments because this territory was far from the capital and behind in trends.

Since arriving in this world, most of the clothes I’d seen were in the Rococo style: jackets with overly ornate decorations and rounded shoulders, paired with long white stockings that reached almost to the knee.

A fashion that makes you feel like you should be wearing a powdered wig any moment now.

Only Richard Mausoleum, who ran a fashion business, wore something different—an in-between of a military uniform and riding attire, closer to Napoleonic style.

So Rococo-style is the mainstream, and Napoleonic-style is the latest trend here.

I stroked my chin, then nodded as I realized something.

The Mausoleum family, including Seymour, wore modern suits, but thinking about it now, I had only ever designed the Mausoleum family.

So maybe the idea is that Seymour himself was the first to invent the modern suit—including the necktie—in this world.

Considering Seymour’s sharp aesthetic sense and narcissistic nature, it wasn’t far-fetched that he would pioneer a fashion trend perfectly suited to himself.

After all, even on Earth, many iconic fashion items had been created by wealthy, idle nobles of the late medieval and early modern eras.

Satisfied with my reasoning, I picked up a strip of spare fabric from the wardrobe, draped it around the mannequin’s neck, and tied it.

“A necktie is like this—it’s much slimmer and more refined compared to a cravat…”

I didn’t finish the sentence.

The tailor was staring at the necktie with wide eyes.

“This is…!”

His voice trembled as he strode over.

Unlike his usual overly formal demeanor, his gaze had gone wild, forcing me to step aside.

He grabbed the mannequin’s tie, touching, untying, and retying it, completely enthralled, muttering like someone possessed.

“It looks so simple and thin, yet within it lies sophistication, restraint, and elegance—three qualities united in one ornament!”

“What?”

“What kind of clothes would match this…? Ah, so many ideas come to mind!”

Caressing the tie with an ecstatic expression, he suddenly spun toward me.

That fervent gleam in his eyes made me unconsciously step back.

But he no longer saw me—his words spilled out like madness.

“I guarantee you, my lord! At first, people will reject it as less elegant than the cravat. But within three years—no, one year—everyone will be wearing this around their necks. Fashion itself will change to match it!”

“Uh… really?”

Sure, neckties were impressive…

…but were they that impressive?

I wasn’t a fashion designer, just a painter. My knowledge of fashion was limited to the bit I had studied for reference material. I couldn’t quite share in Andre’s passion.

“Where did you see such an ornament?”

“Well… it just came to me.”

“As expected of you, my lord! A genius!”

At least he hadn’t completely lost his mind—he was still laying on the flattery…

“Since ancient times, tyrants have always had an eye for art!”

“…What did you just say?”

“They say even infamous tyrants fell into corruption only after their artistic dreams were crushed!”

I vaguely recalled hearing something similar on Earth—Hitler once tried to get into art school, for instance…

But more importantly—did he just insult me to my face?

“If I had this, I could even make it to the imperial capital…! My lord!”

Suddenly, the tailor dropped to his knees before me.

The loud thud startled me—it was so sudden I worried for him before I even processed it.

“I, Andre, am a man of talent! I had nothing but my limbs when I first became my master’s apprentice, but in fifteen years I climbed up from the bottom to here!”

I knew Andre was a renowned tailor.

Only the finest tailor in Mausoleum County was permitted into the lord’s manor.

“Three years ago, I opened a shop under my own name. It’s now the most prosperous tailor shop in the county. When it comes to men’s wear, I dare say I am the best even compared to the capital! So please…”

Andre suddenly lifted his head.

Passion burned in his eyes like molten lava.

“Please invest in this craft through me!”

In other words—he wanted me to entrust him with all knowledge and rights regarding the necktie.

“…Hmm.”

I rubbed my chin in silence.

It’s a tempting proposal.

To my modern Earth eyes, fashion in this world was unsatisfying.

There wasn’t even a proper shirt—only primitive smocks called “chemises.”

Had I simply transmigrated here normally, maybe I wouldn’t have cared.

But as Seymour Mausoleum, I wanted to wear the clothes I had once designed.

The current fashions didn’t do justice to Seymour’s looks. Nor to Lucis, for that matter.

Why stop at neckties? I could introduce all of modern Earth fashion.

But I had no intention of letting someone else reap the rewards.

I crouched down in front of Andre, meeting his eyes.

“I have one condition.”

“I’ll do anything!”

“The shop won’t be under your name—it will bear my family’s name.”

“That doesn’t matter! I’ll obey!”

His immediate answer impressed me.

I knew how much pride artists took in having shops or studios under their own names.

So he desires the necktie enough to abandon even that pride.

I liked that.

Truth be told, if he had hesitated even slightly, I would’ve rejected him.

Andre might be the best in this county, but in the imperial capital, tailors of his skill were everywhere.

What I needed wasn’t just talent—it was obedience.

“Good. Close up your shop. In half a month, when I go to the capital, you’ll come with me.”

“Yes, my lord!”

Andre bowed to me repeatedly.

The next day.

I summoned Sia to my study.

Knock, knock, knock.

She entered cautiously, approaching me with slight hesitation.

“Brother. Why did you call me?”

I turned from the painting I’d been admiring to look at her. She, in turn, avoided my gaze and glanced at the painting instead.

It was set on an easel beside my desk.

“…?”

On the easel was a painting I’d just finished that morning after being inspired while looking in the mirror.

It depicted a man seated in a chair, with black hair and golden eyes shining arrogantly and brilliantly.

Title: Self-portrait.

Needless to say, the model was my handsome self.

“…What is this?”

“An art piece, dear sister.”

“An… art piece?”

Her baffled tone made me shake my head slightly.

“You must cultivate your aesthetic sense, little sister. Nobles must have an eye for art.”

“This is obviously your face, though?”

“Exactly. Which makes it art. You should be grateful you were born with that face.”

And grateful to me, the one who designed it.

“….”

Sia stared at me like I’d lost my mind, sighed, and collapsed onto the sofa.

“I can’t believe I was nervous coming here…”

Across from her, Lucis was idly playing with the jewels I’d bought from the tailor.

“Hello.”

“Yeah, hi Lucis.”

Sia had apparently decided to speak to Lucis informally.

After smiling softly at him for a moment, she turned back to me.

“So, brother. Why did you call me?”

“I have a favor. I’d like you to help Lucis.”

“Help Lucis?”

Being a hatchling, Lucis rejected the touch of any humans except blood relatives.

But noble life required assistance—bathing, changing clothes, and so on.

And I couldn’t do it myself for obvious gender reasons.

“I mean bathing him in the mornings and evenings, and helping him change clothes.”

Sia frowned.

“I’m not a maid. Why should I?”

Her irritation was natural.

The Mausoleum family was high nobility. Even marquises would bow their heads.

Being asked to serve as a maid—even to a princess—would be insulting enough. But to serve as maid to a cousin? Of course she found it degrading.

But I had no other options.

Lucis wouldn’t allow unrelated attendants, and I couldn’t trust extended family members.

“You’re the only one Lucis accepts, and the only one I trust.”

At that, Sia’s eyes widened.

“You… trust me?”

“…? Of course. You’re my sister.”

Even as I said it, I realized how silly it sounded. Does one need a reason to trust their sibling?

Then I recalled Seymour’s original character traits from his profile.

…If Seymour were your family, even I wouldn’t trust him either.

Shaking off that thought, I addressed my still-dazed sister.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be well compensated.”

That brought her back to her senses—she huffed in mock annoyance.

“What, you’ll give me more allowance?”

“When you graduate from the academy, I’ll give you whatever business enterprise you want.”

Her body froze.

In this world, every noble family operated businesses.

And the Mausoleum family, manipulators of the empire from the shadows for a thousand years, had countless enterprises.

Here, noble authority comes not from history or tradition—but from wealth.

Those enterprises were distributed among the family. The elders who had shouted in my bedchamber were all heads of businesses.

For minors like Sia, upon coming of age, the family head would grant them an enterprise to run.

Simon received his from the previous count, and Sia will get hers from me.

Even within the direct bloodline, enterprises were divided between those suitable for the family head and those for non-heirs.

“…You’ll give me whichever one I want?”

“Any enterprise. Whatever you desire.”

It was an extraordinary offer.

After all, I’ll be stepping down as Count soon anyway.

When I retired, the title would pass either to Simon or to Sia.

Either way, I’d be handing over enterprises eventually. Offering one now as part of a bargain was no loss.

If anything, it would improve my image. Later, when I retire, the family will be lenient even if I live comfortably off extra stipends.

As expected, Sia gladly accepted.

The only thing that surprised me was that her eyes weren’t filled with greed—
but with hope.

At the time, I had no idea what that look meant.