It was early morning when Dorian began arranging his wares, humming softly as dust motes danced in the golden light. The peace, however, didn't last long.
Ding.
"Hello~~ my dear curator~~"
Dorian flinched. Instantly, he straightened his posture and put on his most practiced smile.
"Ah. My lady. I hadn't expected you back so soon."
"Oh please," she said with a dismissive wave of her gloved hand. "Just call me Evelyn."
"My, how could I possibly address someone of your stature so casually?"
The Baroness chuckled, her lips curling with amusement. She tilted her head just slightly.
"You're right, of course. But I'll allow it."
"Very well, Lady Evelyn. Now then, what can my humble establishment offer you today?"
She drifted through the shop with deliberate grace, her eyes scanning shelves and mannequins. Eventually, she turned with a glint of recognition in her gaze, holding up a delicate pair of gloves, ones she'd previously purchased.
"Have you any more of these?"
Dorian leaned in, inspecting the item. His expression fell into a theatrical sigh.
"Ah… the Silk of Arachne. I'm afraid that was the last pair. A rare material, notoriously difficult to acquire."
The Baroness's smile faltered for a heartbeat before she masked it with casual poise.
"Surely there's more where this came from."
Without another word, she reached into her purse and produced a check, 1,000 gold, signed with a flourish.
Dorian's eyes sparkled. He maintained his composure admirably, though a single bead of saliva betrayed his inner turmoil.
"You…"
She leaned in, her voice laced with honeyed persuasion.
"Give me a dress worthy of me, and who knows, I might just leave this here."
"My dear Lady Evelyn, as much as I'd love to honor your request, that silk is nearly impossib—"
She placed a second check beside the first. Another thousand gold.
Dorian's demeanor shifted with elegant surrender.
"Why, of course, Lady Evelyn. Not only shall I find a dress worthy of you, I shall create one that could put the stars to shame. Though... it may take some time."
She smiled clearly satisfied.
"I don't expect it today. But there's a gala next month. Can I trust you to deliver?"
"You have my word, dear rose of Amberhold."
She laughed, a soft, glittering sound, before turning in a whirl of perfume and silk.
"Don't let me down, my curator~~"
Ding.
As the door closed behind her, Dorian slumped behind the counter.
"Fuuuuck..."
He dragged a hand down his face.
"How in the seven hells am I supposed to find more of that glove's silk when I don't even know how it got here?"
Still, he held the two checks up like sacred relics and kissed them.
"Well… I'm probably going to get caught sooner or later, but at least now I've got a month's head start."
He sighed, tucking the gold away with reverent care, whispering sweet nothings to his ill-gotten fortune.
Unseen by Dorian, deep in the basement shadows, silk unfurled, delicate, glistening.
And at the center of a growing web, a massive black widow spider with a crimson-streaked abdomen worked patiently, spinning.
...
Later that night.
"...Maybe I can find more of it in the basement. I mean, who knows what's in there. Even I haven't checked every corner," Dorian muttered, holding a lantern in one hand and a long fireplace poker in the other. For all his pomp, he had zero intention of dying beneath his own shop.
As he descended the stairs, shadows deepened. Cobwebs fluttered in the lantern light. He paused at the bottom step.
Then he saw it.
"Holy SHIT! What in the actual FUCK is that?!"
A monstrous spider, easily the size of a large dog, loomed in the center of a glowing web. Its glossy black legs twitched, and its crimson-striped abdomen pulsed with menace.
Dorian stumbled back with a strangled yelp, tripping over a stray bucket. He braced for impact, only to find his fall broken by silk.
He froze.
It wasn't just any silk. It shimmered faintly, catching the light just like the gloves. Smooth. Light and perfect.
"...You've got to be kidding me."
The spider turned slowly toward him, its many eyes glinting with eerie intelligence.
"Get the fuck away!!" he screamed, flailing in the web.
"Look.. I-I'm sorry I sold your work! I didn't know it was yours! I swear I didn't know, please don't eat me!!"
The spider approached, each step silent as a whisper. Dorian shut his eyes, whimpering.
But then... nothing.
The silk loosened around his limbs. Gently, the spider plucked him free, and placed a fresh roll of silk beside him.
"...This is… quite the development."
The spider nestled beside his arm, giving a soft chitter as it nudged the fabric toward him.
Dorian twitched.
"You… You're pretty harmless, huh?"
The spider climbed onto his arm.
"AaAaAgh!! Stop!! Don't crawl on me! I take it back!! You are terrifying!!"
He flailed wildly, nearly dropping his lantern. The spider slid off him with a sulky click of its mandibles.
"Okay okay! Listen, you're harmless, sure. Just... don't do that, give some space and boundaries and we'll get along just fine, right?"
The spider glared at him. Or, well, Dorian felt like it did. It paused, then gave a sassy little shake of its abdomen and returned to its web.
"Right. So we're doing this now, huh? Spiders with attitudes."
He gathered the rolls of silk with shaky hands and started back upstairs.
"Well, that was something..."
Back at his workbench, he laid the silk out under the lamplight. It gleamed just as before, light as breath, impossibly strong.
"Now then... what can I do with you?"
He cracked his knuckles and pulled out his favorite needles.
The spider, unseen, perched on the stairs above, watching curiously.
...
Later still, just before dawn.
As Dorian worked on the dress, he looked down at the fabric with a sigh.
Then noticed the spider on the ceiling
"Guess you're sticking around, huh?"
A soft tap could be heard.
Dorian raised a brow.
"...Fine. You want a name or something?"
Another tap was heard.
He shrugged. "I'm calling you Madam Legs. Unless you complain."
This time two taps could be heard.
He smiled faintly. "Is that a no? Well anyways. Welcome to the team Madam Legs."
And for the first time in a long while, Dorian's shop felt just a little less empty.