I AM NOT THE LOVE INTEREST!

Chapter 56: Comfort

—ARIA—

The moment Ren left to question the butler about unused estate fabrics, I immediately dragged several sheets of paper toward myself like a woman on the verge of either inventing fashion history or committing financial self-destruction.

Possibly both.

The room had already darkened considerably by then. Outside my windows, the last traces of sunset stretched faintly across the distant capital skyline while candlelight flickered warmly against the walls of my room. The estate itself had grown quieter after dinner hours.

Most servants now moved softly through the halls, and the usual noble atmosphere of the Valen Estate had settled back into its nighttime calm.

Meanwhile...

I was sitting cross-legged on the carpet surrounded by papers, a set of pencils, half-finished sketches, and crumpled failures already scattered messily around me like casualties of my own artistic warfare.

Because unfortunately...

Translating modern fashion into noble society was proving significantly harder than expected.

I stared critically at one design in particular before narrowing my eyes hard enough to personally offend the paper.

"No," I muttered aloud. "That looks ridiculous."

Rip.

I crumpled the sheet instantly before tossing it aside with unnecessary aggression.

Then I grabbed another.

Because the problem was not beauty.

This world already possessed beauty.

Honestly, noble fashion here was breathtaking enough to make my old world’s luxury designers collapse emotionally. The fabrics alone looked expensive enough to destroy economies. Layered gowns embroidered delicately with silver and gold thread. Structured silhouettes designed specifically to emphasize elegance and status. Jewels woven directly into hairstyles. Gloves softer than clouds. Velvet cloaks lined with enchanted fur.

Everything looked refined.

Luxurious.

Perfectly noble.

And yet...

The more I thought about it, the more one problem became impossible to ignore.

None of it looked comfortable.

I slowly lowered the pencil while staring blankly toward the opposite wall, my thoughts beginning to shift in a completely different direction now.

Every noblewoman I had encountered recently moved carefully, slowly, and delicately. Like one wrong movement might cause their entire wardrobe to collapse around them.

Heavy skirts dragged constantly behind them. Tight bodices forced perfect posture even while seated. Sleeves restricted movement. Shoes looked elegant but deeply hostile toward human feet.

Even breathing appeared exhausting.

And suddenly...

Something clicked sharply inside my brain.

"Oh."

I sat up straighter immediately.

That’s it!

My designs should not merely focus on beauty.

They should focus on comfort.

Or more specifically...

The complete lack of it.

This world dressed women like ornamental displays instead of actual human beings expected to survive full days while wearing these things. Every dress looked designed for admiration rather than living. Women were expected to appear graceful at all times regardless of whether their ribs were currently being compressed into another dimension beneath decorative corsets.

No wonder everyone looked physically fatigued.

I grabbed another sheet quickly afterward with renewed excitement sparking through me all over again.

"Alright," I declared seriously toward absolutely nobody. "We are liberating women."

My pencil immediately began moving faster.

Softer inner linings.

Lighter layered fabrics.

Elegant silhouettes without aggressively restrictive corsets.

Hidden adjustments beneath dresses allowing movement without sacrificing shape.

Flowing skirts that looked luxurious while remaining light enough to actually walk in properly.

Goodness...

Women here would probably become emotionally overwhelmed if introduced to breathable clothing.

I continued sketching rapidly, thoughts flowing faster now that the concept had fully settled inside my mind. The dresses still needed to look luxurious. Feminine. Refined. Nothing could appear too practical or nobles would reject it instantly out of sheer arrogance.

So instead...

The practicality needed to hide itself beneath elegance.

Secret comfort.

Elegant deception.

I tapped the pencil thoughtfully against my lips while thinking harder.

Hidden pockets.

Flexible seams.

Layered skirts designed for movement rather than decorative suffering.

Even jewelry could change.

Honestly, why did noble accessories here feel personally determined to physically punish women for existing?

Everything was so unnecessarily heavy.

Heavy necklaces.

Heavy earrings.

Heavy decorative hairpieces requiring enough pins to classify as weaponry.

I glanced down at my own dress thoughtfully before sighing.

"...How are women surviving social season without medical intervention?"

Honestly, noblewomen here deserved military recognition.

At least soldiers wore practical boots.

I immediately resumed sketching afterward, my excitement growing stronger the deeper I sank into the idea. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

Travel dresses.

Tea gowns.

Sleepwear.

Elegant winter outerwear lined with lighter fabrics instead of unnecessary weight.

Even hairstyles suddenly became another focus entirely.

Instead of rigid sculpted arrangements requiring twenty servants and spiritual endurance to maintain, I began sketching softer styles instead. Elegant braids. Loose curls. Pearl pins. Simple refinement that still looked graceful without requiring women to sacrifice neck mobility permanently.

And strangely enough...

The more I focused on comfort, the more beautiful the designs actually became.

Because confidence changed everything.

Women uncomfortable in their clothing constantly adjusted themselves. Restricted themselves. Shrunk themselves smaller. They became hyperaware of every movement they made because discomfort demanded constant attention.

But comfortable women?

Comfortable women moved naturally.

They laughed more freely, walked confidently, and existed fully inside themselves without constantly monitoring whether their clothing was betraying them in public.

And somehow...

That kind of elegance felt infinitely more beautiful than forced perfection.

I slowly lowered the pencil while staring down at the newest sketch in front of me.

"Oh no," I whispered softly.

I pointed the pencil dramatically toward the ceiling.

"This is so pretty! I don’t wanna sell it."

The room remained silent.

Honestly rude considering my brilliance.

I continued sketching anyway.

And somewhere between redesigning sleeve structures and mentally abolishing painful footwear entirely, another realization suddenly struck me so hard that I physically froze mid-sketch.

How exactly was I supposed to introduce these designs to the majority of the noblewomen in the first place?

I leaned back slowly and groaned toward the ceiling.

"Wonderful. So now I need marketing strategies."

Honestly, capitalism truly was exhausting.

Before I could spiral deeper into terrifying business revelations, a sudden knock echoed softly against my door.

I jumped violently.

One sketch flew directly off my lap.

"Ah!"

My heart nearly stopped.

Then a familiar voice sounded from outside.

"Lady Aria? Are you awake?"

I blinked immediately.

The voice belonged to Duke Valen’s personal butler.

And somehow that alone made me suspicious.

I slowly scrunched my face while raising a brow toward the door.

What now?

Please tell me nobody else arrived in the estate to traumatize me.

I exhaled quietly before standing up from the carpet, carefully stepping around scattered papers and abandoned sketches.

I walked toward the door before opening it slightly.

The older butler stood outside with his usual composed posture.

"Yes?" I asked cautiously.

The butler bowed politely.

"Duke Valen wishes to speak with you in his study, my lady. "

"...Now?"

"Yes, my lady."

I narrowed my eyes slightly.

My thoughts immediately spiraled.

Did Cynthia say something?

Did father somehow discover I was attempting to launch a fashion empire from scraps?

Did Kaelen or Ezekiel say something insane after breakfast?

I rubbed my forehead briefly.

"Did father mention why he wishes to see me?"

The butler hesitated politely.

"No, my lady."

"...Alright. I’ll be there."