Flyers printed with elegant script were posted across the Selwyn Duchy: on the bulletin boards and at the entrance of the Fine Arts Guild. Each flyer bore the crest of House Selwyn and a bold header:
"Seeking Talented Artisans for a New Venture in Fashion – Designers, Tailors, Seamstresses Wanted."
Inside the Fine Arts Guild, the air buzzed with curiosity. Whispers floated between apprentices and senior artisans alike.
"Did you see this?" one tailor murmured, holding up the flyer. "House Selwyn is opening a fashion house?"
"A clothing store from the Dowager Duchess herself," another replied. "She must be serious."
A week later, Serena sat in the spacious drawing room at the annex, now temporarily transformed into an interview hall. Aiden stood beside her, sorting through the applications while Rika offered tea to the waiting applicants.
The first to enter was a shy young woman named Eloise, a seamstress known for her intricate embroidery.
"I've never worked for a noble household before," she said nervously, fingers fiddling with a lace handkerchief.
Serena smiled warmly. "We're not looking for titles. We're looking for skill. Let me see your work."
One by one, tailors, seamstresses, and designers arrived. Some brought sketchbooks filled with modern silhouettes and classic cuts; others wore their own handmade clothes to showcase their style.
By evening, Serena had spoken to the last of the applicants. As the chandelier above shone brightly and the moonlight filtered through her study windows, she sat at the sofa, reviewing her notes with a sharp eye. Carefully, she circled six names—two seamstresses with steady hands and a keen eye for detail, two tailors known for their precision and innovation, and two designers whose sketches captured elegance with every line.
Serena exhaled slowly, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. "This will work."
While most stores focused solely on women's fashion, Serena had different plans. Hers would be a fashion house for all—men, women, and children alike. Style, she believed, should not be confined by age or gender.
She had already outlined the layout of the building with meticulous care. The first floor would display menswear and clothing for young boys, all elegantly arranged on mannequins that stood tall in the wide windows, facing the bustling street outside. Coats with tailored collars, embroidered waistcoats, and breeches made of fine wool would welcome passersby with sophistication.
The second floor would be devoted to women and young girls—a collection of soft silks, structured bodices, layered skirts, and playful children's dresses. The mannequins would pose gracefully, as if mid-curtsy or holding parasols.
The renovation would go exactly as Serena envisioned. The once-abandoned building would gleam with fresh paint, polished wooden floors, arched display windows, and wrought-iron lanterns at the entrance. The sign above the door had yet to be unveiled.
The carriage came to a gentle halt before the newly renovated building. Xavier stepped down from his coachman sit, offering his hand to Serena as she descended with quiet grace. Behind her, Rika and Dyanne followed, their eyes wide with curiosity and admiration.
Inside, Aiden stood speaking with a man in his thirties. At the sight of Serena, both men turned and bowed respectfully.
"Your Grace," Aiden said, straightening, "everything is set. You may take a look around. Now, all that remains is to decide on a name for the boutique."
Serena didn't respond immediately. Her eyes moved slowly across the space—the polished floors, the newly painted walls, the sturdy mannequins standing tall and waiting for their garments. Her gloved fingers brushed lightly along the smooth surface of the walls. It all felt real now. Tangible.
She walked forward, silent, and made her way up the staircase. The second floor greeted her with the same meticulous care—the layout mirrored below, ready to welcome elegance and life.
But then, something caught in the air.
A faint, acrid scent. The smell of burnt paper.
The room seemed to still, and Serena paused mid-step. The scent wasn't real—at least, not in the present. Her gaze became distant, her mind drifting elsewhere. She stood quietly.
Suddenly Serena blinked, the haze of thought fading as she returned to the present. She turned on her heel and descended the staircase, her expression composed once more.
Back on the first floor, she glanced at Aiden and gestured subtly toward the unfamiliar man beside him. "Aiden, who is he?"
Aiden straightened slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah—right. He's the one who'll manage the store. You can trust him. He's also a close friend of mine."
Serena tilted her head, studying the man.
"Is that so? What's your name?"
The man stepped forward and placed a hand over his chest with a polite bow. "I am Robert, Your Grace. It is an honor."