Within just a few minutes, I notice a rustle of heavy silk near the grand marble staircase. The receptionist who had hurried upstairs earlier is now descending, and right behind her steps an extraordinarily stylish woman.
She appears to be in her late thirties, radiant, impeccably poised, and carrying an air of quiet authority that immediately tells me she is the head manager.
The manager glides directly toward Orlando, her hands clasped gracefully in front of her as she offers a deep, flawless curtsy.
"It is an honor to meet you, Your Grace," she says, her tone smooth and measured. "Please accept my humblest apologies for the rude behavior of our staff. They failed to recognize you and made a foolish mistake. I beg for your generous forgiveness regarding their utter lack of etiquette."
Orlando crosses his arms, letting out a sharp, cold huff. "Ha! So you're the manager of this boutique? You need to teach your staff a proper lesson. They are absurdly arrogant and clearly don't know their place."
Sensing his temper flaring back up, I quickly step in before he can escalate things further. I catch his eye with a small, soothing look. "Brother, please... don't make a big deal out of it. It was really nothing."
I then turn to the manager with a warm, reassuring smile. "It's completely fine, Madam. You don't have to worry at all. Your staff was actually very polite and treated us kindly. My brother is simply... a little hot-tempered today. Please don't mind him."
The manager's eyes light up with subtle amusement as she takes me in. Her gaze lingers on my golden hair and green eyes before her smile turns pleasantly gentle.
"So you must be Lady Eleanor Valerius," the manager says softly, bowing her head slightly to me. She then turns back to Orlando. "And Your Grace... are you looking to purchase gowns today for this breathtakingly fair young lady?"
Orlando puffs out his chest slightly, a distinct note of arrogant pride lacing his voice. Deep down, he is thoroughly satisfied to hear her praising about Elanore's beauty. "Yes," he replies in a smug, confident tone. "We have a major event to attend, the upcoming ball. You already know about it, don't you? We need to order a set of custom-made gowns as well as select a few ready-made pieces today. Please take her measurements immediately."
My eyes widen in complete shock as I hear those words.
A ball?! A party for me?!
"W-What ball are you talking about?" I blurt out, staring at Orlando with my mouth half-open. "What event? Brother, what on earth are you discussing?!"
The head manager tilts her head with a look of soft surprise. "Oh, my dear... do you truly not know? Your family is hosting a grand banquet and ball to celebrate your recovery and your good health!"
I freeze, turning to Orlando with an even more astonished expression. "No, I didn't know anything about this! What is going on, Brother? Is that true?"
Orlando's confident posture falters for a fraction of a second. A faint blush touches his ears as he clears his throat, stammering slightly, "A-Ah... yes. Well... actually, Father and I didn't want to make you worry or feel overwhelmed with preparations, so we were keeping it from you for a while. I... I was going to tell you eventually, but I simply forgot because of my heavy workload! Please don't be mad, Elanore".
I look at his flustered expression and hold back a slight smile. They were probably keeping it secret to surprise me... or maybe they just didn't know how to bring it up.
"Alright, Brother," I say, deciding to let him off the hook for now. "We'll talk more about this once we get back home."
"Ah," The manager makes a sound to catch our attention. Then she turns to me with an inviting gesture toward the private fitting parlor. "Right this way, my dear."
"Oh, sure", I reply while stepping forward to follow her.
Before I can take two steps, Orlando suddenly interjects, his brow furrowed in instant suspicion as he steps into our path. "Hold on. Where are you taking her?"
The manager stifles a polite chuckle, holding her hands up gently. "To take her measurements, of course, Your Grace. Upstairs, in the private studio of our boutique. We must measure her precisely and listen to her personal preferences."
"But why the secrecy?" Orlando frowns, crossing his arms defensively. "She is my younger sister, and she doesn't know much about these things yet. Why can't you just measure her right here?"
"Oh my, Your Grace!" the manager gasps playfully. "She is a refined young noble lady! We certainly cannot take a lady's personal measurements out in the middle of a open showroom floor. Please be patient and wait here for just a few moments."
I step over to Orlando, lightly tapping his arm with a gentle smile. "Yes, Brother, don't be so difficult. I'll be back in just a few minutes, okay? Just sit here properly, relax, and don't do anything reckless while I'm gone. Please stay calm."
Giving him one last reassuring nod, I turn and follow the manager and the receptionist up the grand staircase, stepping into the inner sanctuary of the boutique.
The manager opens the door to a spacious, sunlit atelier. My eyes widen in absolute fascination. Unlike modern shopping malls where finished clothes simply hang neatly on metallic racks, this workshop is alive with creative chaos. Tailoring tapes and sketchbooks lay scattered across mahogany desks alongside spools of vibrant silk thread. Gorgeous, half-finished gowns rest on wooden mannequins, showing off raw seams, intricate lace overlays, and complex bodice structures.
I stand there, utterly captivated, staring at the raw process of haute couture dressmaking.
Noticing my round-eyed wonder, the manager smiles warmly. "Shall we begin taking your measurements then, My Lady?"
A sudden flush of embarrassment hits me as I realize I've been gaping like a tourist. "Ah, yes! Of course," I stammer, stepping onto the small wooden pedestal.