I Don't Want To Attack You!

6. Romance doesn’t suit me.

Evgeny Tailor Shop is a well-established tailor shop run by the Evgeny family for the fourth generation. In the past, it had such a high reputation that nobles from other continents would come by ship for months to have their clothes tailored. Nowadays, due to the abundance of highly skilled designers leading the trends, it doesn’t enjoy the same popularity as it used to.

Nevertheless, the tailor shop located prominently in the capital square still has a steady stream of customers. The first and second floors are boutiques, the third floor is the office where Mr. Martin and Ben work, and the fourth floor is where our seamstresses work like busy bees.

I wore a brown hood up to my nose and stepped on the familiar sewing machine pedal. Countless threads floated in the air, making my vision blurry. The sweet, rhythmic sound, not so much loud as it was soothing, resonated in my ears, bringing a sense of peace.

“Heather!”

Ben, who should have been on the third floor, came towards me, waving his hands and shuffling through the strands of thread with his fingers. I finished what I was working on and lowered my hood below my chin.

“Why?”

“You asked for a day off, not three days. When did you decide to take a long break?”

Ben grabbed my shoulder and whispered in my ear. He seemed to have rushed here like a frightened puppy, and I had a rough idea why.

“Is that crazy man causing trouble again?”

It was all because of Mr. Martin. He disliked me the most, yet he was the most interested in me. He knew everything about me, from what I had for breakfast to the orders I was working on, and what time I arrived. Isn’t that a sign of love?

“He’s acting all high and mighty because he made it to the final designer exam.”

“I’ve been working here for eight years without taking a vacation. Mr. Evgeny said you can take a break whenever you want. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is you taking a break.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Despite being fifteen years older than me, he acted like a child. I was so scared that I thought I might wet myself.

“Do as you please. You won’t be able to fire me anyway.”

There was no other seamstress in the tailor shop as fast and skilled as me. Why else would Mr. Evgeny secretly raise my piecework rate behind the backs of the other seamstresses? However, Martin had no interest in the tailor shop doing well. He just wanted to create a realm within the tailor shop where he could reign as king. Since I was in his way, he naturally wanted to cut me. But if I cut as I pleased, I wouldn’t be able to avoid Mr. Evgeny’s anger, so I just hoped to leave voluntarily.

Ben looked at me with a puzzled expression, then patted my back reassuringly. He didn’t forget to warn me to be careful since Martyn was in a foul mood. What do I have to be careful about? If I’m going to be cursed at no matter what, I’d rather do as I damn well please.

“Anyway, what’s the reason for taking three days off?”

“Uh…”

When he mentioned it, my heart, which had been calm, began to beat loudly.

“Heather, your face is red. Are you feeling unwell?”

Unwell? I almost died. I thought my body was going to break apart completely. Remembering that night made my pelvis ache again. My hand instinctively went to my waist, which had ached all day.

I saw a devil. I clung to him, shaking, while desperately seeking salvation from any god. Please, knock this bastard out. But Ashur, born with the love of a god, became more skilled as time passed, never tiring but expertly pushing me to the limits of pleasure, leaving no room for any other thoughts.

Before I knew it, my body was soaked inside and out with fluids. Later, I could barely open my eyes due to the viscous liquid that stretched down my face, and I couldn’t even close my mouth because I was too busy moaning and crying mixed with tears.

The monstrous erection that had filled me to the brim finally retreated. It was finally over. As I lay on the bed, Ashur supported my neck and gave me water. Then the intense lovemaking resumed.

Only after the morning sun had risen did Ashur release me. It was time for the morning prayer. Oh Lord, thank you. I looked at Ashur, who was tidying up, with heavy-lidded eyes. How could a person like him have survived on sympathy alone? It had to be a century-old mystery.

I woke up late in the afternoon. The setting sun was visible through the open window, and a gentle breeze rustled my hair. I could barely blink my eyes as I lay there. If Ashur hadn’t woken me up, I wouldn’t have been able to get up until tomorrow.

“I told the head of the costume department that I have a personal request to make of the seamstress, so you’ll be staying at the temple for one more day.”

Ashur’s voice came from behind, carrying a faint smell of grilled fish. I checked my body while lying down. My throat felt sore, and the muscles in my pelvis, neck, lower back, and forearms were aching as if I had done heavy labor.

The bodily fluids that had covered me were all gone, and the bedding felt as soft as new. Despite being a light sleeper, I hadn’t woken up while Ashur bathed me and changed the bedding, so I could tell how strenuous last night’s lovemaking had been.

“It doesn’t seem right to take just one day off.”

“Then how many more days are you going to stay? I can have someone cover for you in the costume department…”

“It’s okay.”

I replied with a voice that was barely holding up. As I got up, the lapel of the gown that Ashur usually wore fell below my shoulders. It was covered in bite marks everywhere I could see. It was so absurd that I couldn’t help but chuckle. When I raised my head, Ashur shrugged his shoulders as if pricked by a thorn.

“You don’t like it?”

“…I said I didn’t dislike it, not that I didn’t have it.”

You’re quite the character. As I struggled to put on the gown that had come undone, Ashur hastily supported me.

“You’re going already?”

“Yes, I have to.”

“Rest for one more day. No one will enter my bedroom except me.”

“I’d love to, but I have a job waiting for me like an impatient rabbit.”

I declined the dinner Ashur brought and also stopped him from offering to take me to the temple. There were already rumors circulating about me ever since I undressed Ashur, and if someone saw us coming out of the temple together, it would have been a bigger headache.

Instead, Ashur called a carriage to take me home. The distance from the temple to my house was too far to walk, and it would have been burdensome to call a carriage at my own expense, so I didn’t refuse that.

On the way home, I stopped by the costume department and requested a three-day vacation. But during these three days, I hadn’t exactly rested…

Before going to the temple, I had received a job advertisement from Olga for the Chebania Costume Department designer position. Although the opportunity for opera costume design had slipped through my fingers, I planned to give this a proper shot without any mistakes this time.

Ultimately, the only time that could be considered a break was half a day in Ashur’s bedroom. As soon as I returned home and the sun rose, I headed to the Chebania Costume Department. I thoroughly observed all the costumes and accessories displayed in the showroom, making a note of the colors, patterns, and materials that were frequently used. Then, I thought about the perspective of the designer who would be submitting the application. Why did they want to break with convention and take on this challenge?

Most of the new costumes unveiled at the Chebania Costume Department only differed in fabric depending on the season, but most of them were not significantly different from last year’s styles. Trends change every year, but they consistently filled the showroom with uninspired presentations that adhered to conventional designs.

To increase the chances of being selected, I couldn’t completely break Chebania Costume Department’s mold. Despite the criticism, sticking to their design style was more a matter of pride than stubbornness. I pondered how to maintain their pride while incorporating freshness. This would be the key to success.

After the three-day break, I struggled with the work piled up in the costume department, but my mind was fully immersed in designing for the upcoming exam. I had a burning determination to finish and submit my design by next week.

“Heather, there’s a delivery for you.”

“Again?”

“Mr. Martin ordered it, so what can I do?”

As Ben had mentioned, Mr. Martin was deliberately delegating all the miscellaneous tasks in the costume department to me. Even though there were hired workers for moving materials, he found excuses to make me move the new table for the boutique and even came to my house early in the morning, claiming there was an urgent matter, and asked me to remove the mushrooms that had mysteriously sprouted in his backyard.

What am I doing here right now? As I carried a nameless, bulky mushroom all the way back home, I felt a deep sense of despair. If there were a competition to find the most pitiful human being in the world, a 25-year-old woman who rushed out at the sound of a doorbell without hesitation would undoubtedly win first place.

“Where are you going this time?”

“31 Charlotte Street.”

Even though deliveries weren’t part of a seamstress’s job, I was fed up with the audacity of ordering deliveries to me. However, in the past week, I had done so many bizarre chores that this delivery felt oddly manageable. It was just a 15-minute walk, and the items were light enough for me to carry with both hands. It’s fine. Why am I getting used to this? I must be losing my mind. I accepted the silk-wrapped package that Ben handed me.

“What’s the detailed address?”

“Uh, Heather.”

As I was about to go outside, Ben called me anxiously.

“It’s Professor Kučeva’s mansion.”

I wondered why Martin had assigned me such an easy task for once. When thinking about that guy, you have to erase the word “surprising” from your brain. As expected. I had briefly overlooked the fact that he slept with the intention of plotting against me and that he was the one who came to work this morning.

Professor Kučeva’s mansion was a place that could never be omitted from my life’s memoirs.

“Header! Do you know why ladybugs have spots on their shells?”

“Header, look closely. Today at the academy, I learned how to swing a sword with both hands, and the teacher said my form looked good. Are you watching? I said, are you watching?!”

“They say snails poop green when they eat lettuce!”

“They said they’d come play when I turned seven, but they never did. I’m ten now!”

“It would be so nice if we could have dinner at our house, right? Today is the day when big brother is coming, so Masha has kept everyone out of the kitchen for a week!”

From my two legs, arms, shoulders, back, neck, all the way to the top of my head… children between the ages of one and twelve hung on me like monkeys. I ignored the chatter of these little demons and kept walking, focusing all the strength in my body on my legs to take a step.

Professor Kučeva and his wife are genius magic researchers produced by our kingdom. They are such accomplished magic researchers that even the high-ranking magicians at the Tower, known for gathering eccentrics, bow their heads and seek their advice, and it’s not an exaggeration to say that all the convenience artifacts used in everyday life originated from Professor Kučeva’s mind.

Countries and organizations wanting to recruit the Kučeva couple overflowed, but the couple were romantic souls who loved the academy where they first met more than wealth and honor. They still actively teach students in the Royal Academy professorship. Thanks to them, the saying “If you want to learn magic properly, go to Glacia” has become popular.

 

T/N: Short chapter will post more later