The Devil Wears Fine Clothes (3)

“Nigel. I heard that you’re very interested in fashion… in this town.”

Nigel nodded with a bewildered face. As Kerberos said, she was very interested in fashion. In fact, she was so passionate about fashion that saying she was “very interested” might be an understatement.

“Yes. Um, my father is a cloth merchant.”

Her father was a cloth merchant, and her mother was once a designer who worked at a successful clothing store in the capital. Nigel, inheriting the blood of her father who was good at handling fabrics and her mother who still made clothes as a hobby, was more interested in clothing than anyone else.

Kerberos smiled and said:

“I know. I got recommendations from your father and mother.”

“What? F-from my mother?”

Nigel’s eyes widened at the mention that her mother had recommended her. This was because Nigel’s mother, being a rather strict former designer, always gave harsh critiques to Nigel. To Nigel’s mother, who often made dresses for the capital’s social circles, Nigel’s practical and simple designs were incomprehensible and unsightly.

Kerberos said with a troubled expression:

“Actually, I tried to ask your mother first… but she recommended a dress. This place is clearly a battlefield, and even if it’s not the very front line, it’s close to the front area. I can’t go out wearing a dress under the pretext of welcoming the hero’s party.”

Nigel nodded at her words. Despite her young age, she could understand Kerberos’s intention. Nigel asked:

“Then, um… instead of my mother, am I… doing it?”

Kerberos furrowed her brow at her words and then shook her head. She continued speaking while taking out a booklet from the drawer:

“The word ‘instead’ isn’t appropriate. You’re the only one who can meet my requirements. You’re not a substitute. You’re the only designer who can fulfill my request.”

Nigel smiled brightly at those words. Her face was already full of enthusiasm as she shook the chair with a clatter. Kerberos smiled warmly at the sight of the chair shaking like a rocking horse.

Nigel, who was so excited she seemed almost ready to break into a tap dance, made eye contact with Kerberos and cleared her throat, seemingly embarrassed. Then she blinked and asked:

“So, what should I start with?”

Kerberos ran her hand through her hair and said:

“Since I defected from the Demon King’s army, I haven’t been able to bring my personal belongings, so I don’t have any civilian clothes. I don’t even have a military uniform. With the hero coming this time, I’d like to have one neat outfit that I could wear in some formal place.”

Nigel took out a notebook from her pocket and wrote down what she was saying.

A neat outfit that can be worn in a formal place.

Then she bit the end of her pen and fell into thought.

Since she rejected the idea of a dress, what she wanted must be clothes that give a calm and neat impression like a military uniform. If so, wouldn’t it be better to make it with a design and color combination similar to a military uniform? She was confident that since Kerberos had a strict and sharp impression, wearing such clothes would give her a unique charm.

Kerberos saw that Nigel had stopped writing and asked:

“Have you written it all down?”

Nigel, who had been deep in thought, nodded a beat late. Kerberos hesitated and continued:

“And, I’d like it to feel a bit… pretty. Um… not too flashy or pretty, but something that can appeal to my charm.”

“Uh…”

Nigel was inwardly surprised at the familiar exclamation coming from her own mouth. Her mother used to react like this when she met customers with difficult orders. Those customers would use strange fashion terms they had picked up somewhere and insist on having clothes made, or demand flashy decorations that didn’t match or suit their measurements, causing conflicts between professional ethics and money.

To Nigel, Kerberos’s current order sounded somewhat similar to those people.

“Since I’m a soldier, I want it to give a neat and calm impression. But while it has a military strictness, I’d like there to be a point that can appeal to my charm within that. However, I don’t want it to be so obvious that people say ‘she dressed up today.'”

Nigel rolled her eyes and fell into contemplation. After thinking for a while, she remembered that such inconspicuous appeal points often stem from wanting to look good to a specific person.

“Um… Who is it that you want to appeal to? The hero?”

Kerberos firmly shook her head. Then she continued her explanation:

“No. It’s not the hero. Um… Someone who likes married women? That kind of taste…”

“What?”

Nigel raised her voice, thinking she must have misheard. Kerberos seemed to realize her mistake and cleared her throat, changing her words:

“No, I shouldn’t say such things in front of a child. So. Mature charm. I want clothes that highlight points of mature charm.”

Nigel wrote it down again. Seeing her write “mature charm,” Kerberos added:

“Inconspicuously.”

Nigel wanted to pull her hair out in frustration, but considering she was in front of an important person, she held back. After thinking for a moment, she asked Kerberos:

“But what kind of person are they for you to like them so much, Commander?”

“A very considerate and wonderful person.”

Nigel couldn’t imagine what kind of person could be both considerate and fond of married women.

Usually, considerate people don’t mess with other people’s wives.

Nigel was certain that the person Kerberos liked was probably a typical smooth-talking playboy, and that such a person would find some charming point to compliment even if she dressed Kerberos in a potato sack.

In other words, it meant she could just put her in a simple and strict uniform. The person would find something to compliment anyway.

Kerberos asked with an anxious expression:

“Is… is it too difficult?”

Nigel wrote a few more words in her notebook and then smiled brightly, saying:

“No! I think I can do it!”

Cool and strict appearance. Since the original was already good, just emphasizing that would be enough to make her look charming.

Thinking this, Nigel left the command room.

---

The older woman lit a cigarette. After finishing the day’s sewing, rest would come even to old bones. The plump woman who stretched and said “good job,” and another woman who was still sulking about meeting Kerberos earlier.

The woman, slightly younger than the older woman, grumbled:

“She’s saying she’s the commander, that’s it. We’re working so hard, how can she talk like that? Huh? Is she saying she’s going to control what we say too?”

The older woman exhaled smoke. The sunset was fading, and the figures of the soldiers became clear. How much burden was loaded on those shoulders facing away from the village? The older woman knew that there were over 500 private houses in the village near this command post alone.

“Sister. Let’s just teach her a lesson. If she doesn’t apologize tomorrow, we’ll also…”

“We’ll also what?”

When the older woman retorted coldly, the woman blinked and said in a shrinking voice:

“Well, you know… Just, let’s leave this to other people… or something…”

“Did you come here to boost your ego?”

The woman hung her head. The older woman put the cigarette back in her mouth and sighed.

“If you don’t want to do it, leave. You think I’m doing this to get that woman’s favor? I’m doing it because the kids are pitiful. Look over there.”

The older woman pointed at the guard post with her cigarette-holding hand. There were soldiers huddled together, exhaling white breath due to the temperature that had dropped rapidly since sunset. She put the cigarette back in her mouth and continued:

“How pitiful they are. We’re going home now that our work is done, but they stand there like that almost every day. If I were in better shape, I would have stood there for them.”

“Sister, if you’re going to say that, you should quit smoking first…”

The woman said in a shrinking voice. The older woman smiled, raising the corners of her mouth at those words, and shifted her gaze to the command post. She looked over Nigel running out energetically once, then hardened her expression again and stubbed out her cigarette on the window frame.

The window frame was full of black marks as if she had repeated the same action many times.

“I wonder how I would have lived without this.”

The cooled cigarette exhaled its stored smoke and turned black. The older woman threw the cigarette out the window and said:

“Let’s go.”

“Yes, sister.”

She picked up her coat. It was a garment made at a skilled cloth shop in the village. The image of the hostess cheering that she looked like a noble lady still brought a smile to her face even now.

Smiling broadly again, she turned her gaze towards the cloth shop that had just lit up.

Seeing Nigel working on something while sweating profusely, she frowned and muttered:

“Making a child make clothes.”

Flicking her fingers as if she still had a cigarette:

“That’s why she got dumped by a man.”