"I... I apologize... I don’t know why..." Marta whispered, her voice trembling, "I just... I felt like I shouldn’t be standing."

Evelina looked down at the kneeling girl, then back at her own reflection in a nearby window. She felt an intoxicating thrill. The skill was perfect.

[Notification: Passive Skill ’High-Class Aura’ is Active]

[Status: Social Dominance established]

[Bonus: +100 Gold for ’Involuntary Submission’ of a Target]

[Current Gold Total: 1200]

Evelina reached down and gently touched Marta’s shoulder.

"Stand up, Marta," Evelina said, "And clear away the tea. We have much to do. If I’m to attend the Empress’s tea, I’ll need a dress that matches my taste."

She walked down the hallway, her every step sounding like a heartbeat. The Midsummer Tea was a week away. Let the noble ladies prepare their insults and their outdated gowns.

Marta shivered.

...

The next day, the capital’s top dressmaker arrived at the Alvarez Estate.

Madame Vane was followed by a trail of assistants lugging heavy trunks and mannequin busts. As the capital’s premiere dressmaker, she was a woman who measured her success by the proximity of her clients to the throne.

To her, a summons from the ’Pauper Duchess’ was a chore, a low-priority task to be squeezed between a fitting for a Countess and a tea with a Princess.

"Your Grace," Madame Vane gave a curtsy so shallow it was practically an insult, "I was so moved by your plight that I personally curated a selection of fabrics I felt... appropriate for your current station. Practicality is the new elegance, don’t you think?"

Evelina sat in her study, her [High-Class Aura] dialed down to a simmer so as not to scare the woman off before the work was done. She watched as the assistants threw open the trunks.

The room was suddenly filled with the sight of muddy browns, muted tans, and safe burgundies.

The silhouettes were heavy with excessive lace and bell-shaped skirts; styles that had peaked three years ago and were now being pushed onto the poor nobility who couldn’t afford to be trendy.

It was a collection of scraps basically, the leftovers of the capital’s elite, rebranded as suitable for women like her... who had a position but no prestige.

Madame Vane held up a bolt dull lace, "This would look charming on you, dear. It hides the... wear and tear of a rural lifestyle."

In her first life, Evelina would have been grateful. She would have thanked the Madame for her kindness and worn the outdated rags to the palace, unwittingly painting a target on her own back for every socialite in the room to hit.

She would have looked like a beggar trying to play dress-up.

But now, Evelina was amused internally. How easy was it for people to kick somebody when they were down?

Evelina didn’t even touch the fabric. She stood up and walked a slow circle around the trunks.

"Madame Vane," Evelina said, her voice like the chime of a silver bell, "I asked for the best dressmaker in the capital. I didn’t realize I had summoned a collector of historical artifacts."

The dressmaker’s smile faltered, her painted eyebrows arching in surprise, "I beg your pardon? These are the finest linens and—"

"These are the things the Duchess of Briar discarded last season," Evelina interrupted, her gaze sharp and unforgiving, "And that lace was rejected by the Crown Princess because the pattern is asymmetrical. You brought me the collection of your failures, assuming my eyes were as empty as you believe my pockets to be."

Madame Vane opened her mouth to protest, but the words died in her throat.

She looked at Evelina and felt a sudden, inexplicable chill. The Duchess didn’t look like a girl in need of charity at all. Were those rumors false?

"I have no interest in your pathetic fabrics," Evelina said as she walked to her desk.

Evelina picked up a piece of charcoal and a fresh sheet of parchment.

Her hand moved with a speed and confidence that was unnatural. She sketched a high, sharp collar that looked like a bird of prey’s wing.

She then traced a bodice that was nipped with precision, leading into a skirt that flowed like liquid obsidian rather than bunching like a mushroom.

The design was not only stunning, it was powerful as well.

"Forget the lace," Evelina said, her charcoal scratching against the paper, "I want obsidian silk. The sheen should resemble a mirror. I want the seams reinforced with whalebone to create a silhouette that is not bound. It should have no ruffles or flowers."

These were things that would come into trend years from now, based on what she remembered from her previous life.

To Evelina, what a person wore didn’t matter much before, neither did it now. It was always the heart that got to her.

But when you enter someone’s den, you play by their rules for some time.

Moreover, in her past life, she lacked money so she held herschel back. In this life, she would make sure she could afford whatever she wanted, even if it was the trendiest clothes that were yet to exist.

Evelina flicked the charcoal dust from the page and turned the sketch toward Madame Vane.

The room went silent. Madame Vane leaned forward, her eyes squinting as she took in the sketch.

At first, the dressmaker looked like she wanted to scoff.

The design was too bold in its lack of ornament. But as she traced the lines with her eyes, she realized the genius of the proportions. It was a masterpiece of geometry. It used the body as a scaffold for a structural work of art.

It was a dress that would make every other woman in the room look like they were wearing quilts.

Madame Vane’s hand trembled as she reached out to touch the corner of the parchment. Her professional ego which had been so inflated moments before, began to collapse.

"This..." the dressmaker whispered in awe, "The way the collar frames the jaw... the tension in the waist... it’s revolutionary. I have never seen anything like it. This will... this will change the fashion world. The Empress herself will demand to know how this dress was made..."