I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Early the next morning, Werner appeared at the entrance to Reynard’s office in West Berlin.

The early summer sun shone through the glass display windows, making the various exquisite goods on the office’s display shelves sparkle.

When Reynard saw Werner walk in, a familiar smile appeared on his face. "Werner! Got another big deal for me?"

"This one’s a real challenge," Werner said, getting straight to the point. "I need a Western-style wedding dress, and the standards are high."

Reynard stopped what he was doing and turned to look at him. "A wedding dress? That’s no small order. Do you have any idea how much a high-quality wedding dress costs?"

"Money isn’t the issue. Quality and time are the critical factors," Werner said, pulling out a slip of paper. "Here are the measurements, along with a few special requests."

Reynard took the slip of paper, examined it closely, and furrowed his brow. "This waist... this bust... looks like a very slender girl. But Werner, do you know how long it takes to have a wedding dress custom-made in West Berlin?"

"How long?" Werner asked.

"At least six weeks. For a better tailor, it could take two months," Reynard said, shaking his head. "And it won’t be cheap. A decent-quality dress will cost at least 500 West German Marks."

Werner’s expression faltered.

’Two months? Schiller said his daughter is getting married next month. There’s no way that’s enough time.’

"Is there any faster way?" Werner asked.

Reynard thought for a moment. "Well, there is one way, but it will cost more. I know a French tailor named Mary. Her craftsmanship is superb, and she’s willing to do rush orders. But..."

"But what?"

"The rush fee is steep, and she’s very picky. She doesn’t take just any order," Reynard explained. "She only works for clients who can truly appreciate her work."

Werner’s eyes lit up. "Can you help me contact her?"

"I can try," Reynard nodded. "But you should brace yourself. The price might make you wince."

Half an hour later, the two of them arrived in a quiet neighborhood in West Berlin.

The architectural style here was markedly different from East Berlin. Every house had its own unique decorations, and the windowsills were filled with flowers.

Mary’s studio was on the second floor, with a delicate little sign on the door that read: "High-End Custom Tailoring."

Werner pushed open the door and stepped into the studio.

The place was arranged like a temple of art. The walls were covered with various design sketches, bolts of fabric in all colors were stacked in the corners, and an old-fashioned sewing machine gleamed with a metallic sheen in the sunlight.

Mary was about forty years old, dressed in a well-tailored black dress. Her hair was done up in an elegant bun, and her gaze was sharp and professional.

"Reynard, you’ve brought another customer?" Mary said in German, tinged with a French accent. "I don’t have time to take on new orders."

"Mary, this is Werner. He has a special request," Reynard introduced.

Mary looked Werner up and down, her gaze appraising. "What do you want?"

"A wedding dress, completed within two weeks," Werner stated directly.

Mary scoffed. "Two weeks? Do you think I’m a magician?"

"I know it’s difficult, but I’m willing to pay accordingly," Werner said, pulling a stack of West German Marks from his pocket. "This is a 1,000 Mark deposit."

Mary’s expression changed. She took the money, counted it, and then looked at Werner. "1,000 Marks? Are you sure you know what you’re saying?"

"I’m very sure," Werner nodded. "This dress is important to me. It’s not just about the money."

Mary paced a few steps around the studio before stopping. "Tell me, who is this for?"

Werner thought for a moment. "The daughter of an East German official. She’s getting married soon and has always dreamed of having a real Western-style wedding dress."

"East Germany?" Mary raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. The girls over there rarely get the chance to wear a real French wedding dress."

She walked over to her design table and picked up a pencil. "Tell me your requirements. What style? What fabric?"

Werner took out the slip of paper. "Here are the measurements. As for the style... I want something classic and elegant."

Mary took the paper, glanced at the measurements, and a professional expression came over her face. "She has a nice figure. It’s very suitable for a mermaid silhouette."

She began sketching rapidly on a piece of paper. "I have a design in mind... an elegant boat neck, lace sleeves, a cinched waist, and then a flowing mermaid tail..."

As she drew, she spoke, "We’ll use silk satin imported from France, paired with handmade lace, and we can use pearls to adorn the chest..."

Werner watched the design take shape on the paper, a flash of admiration in his eyes. "It’s beautiful."

"Of course it’s beautiful. It’s my work," Mary said proudly, then her tone shifted. "But for a two-week turnaround, I’ll have to work day and night. The total price is 2,000 West German Marks, non-negotiable."

2,000 West German Marks!

’2,000 West German Marks,’ Werner calculated inwardly. ’That’s equivalent to 8,000 East German Marks—enough to cover a regular worker’s salary for two years.’

’But considering the value of Schiller’s quota, this investment is worth it.’

"Done," Werner said decisively.

Mary was a little surprised by how readily he agreed. "Are you sure?"

"I’m sure. But I have one condition," Werner said. "I need to see the process."

"Why?" Mary frowned.

"Because I need to ensure the quality, and..." Werner paused. "I might have other, similar orders in the future."

Mary’s eyes lit up. "Other orders?"

"Yes. If this collaboration goes well, I can introduce you to more clients from East Germany. There are many people there with purchasing power, but they lack the right channels," Werner said.

Mary considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, you can observe the process. But you are not to interfere with my work."

Over the next few days, Werner became a regular visitor to the studio. He watched as Mary meticulously selected the fabrics, inspecting every piece of silk repeatedly under the light to ensure there were no imperfections.

"You know," Mary said as she worked, "making a wedding dress is completely different from making ordinary clothes. A wedding dress carries a woman’s most beautiful dream. Not a single detail can be overlooked."

Werner watched her sew pearls onto the lace with a fine needle, each stitch incredibly precise. "I can see that."

"This East German girl is very lucky," Mary continued. "She has a friend who is willing to spend so much money for her."

Werner didn’t correct her misunderstanding, just offered a faint smile.

On the fifth day, a problem arose. Mary discovered a color variation in a batch of lace. Although it was subtle, by her standards, it was unacceptable.

"It has to be replaced," Mary said resolutely. "But reordering the lace will take a week."

Werner frowned. "Are there any other options?"

Mary thought for a moment. "There’s an Italian supplier. Their lace is excellent quality, but it’s more expensive. And I would need to go pick it out in person."

"Go to Italy?" Werner asked.

"No, they have a showroom in Frankfurt. I’d need to take a train, but I could be back the same day," Mary explained.

Werner didn’t hesitate. "Go. I’ll cover the cost."

Mary looked at him, a trace of admiration in her eyes. "You really care about this dress."

The next day, Mary returned from Frankfurt with the perfect lace.

She excitedly showed it to Werner. "Look at this texture, this sheen! Now this is a true work of art!"

Werner examined it closely and could indeed feel that this batch of lace was exceptional. Under the light, it gave off a soft glow, and it felt as smooth as silk to the touch.

The creation process entered its most critical stage. Mary began to assemble the various parts. The lines of the boat neck were graceful and fluid, the lace sleeves were delicate and sheer, the waist was cinched just right, and the mermaid skirt fanned out like a wave.

"There’s going to be an issue with the fitting," Mary said as she worked. "Without a real person to try it on, it’s hard to ensure a perfect fit."

Werner stared at the half-finished wedding dress, his brow slightly furrowed.

’Not having a live fitting is a huge problem. If the measurements are off, Schiller’s daughter’s wedding will be ruined.’

’I have to find someone to try it on,’ he mused.

’Schiller’s daughter can’t find out about the surprise, so I’ll have to find another way.’

Suddenly, the image of Eva flashed through his mind.

’Eva’s figure looks similar to Schiller’s daughter’s. And we’ve been working together for so long, she should be willing to help me out.’

The next afternoon, Werner went to the foreign trade store.

The store was as quiet and deserted as ever, with a few clerks standing behind the counter with indifferent expressions.

Eva was arranging imported canned goods on a shelf. Hearing footsteps, she turned her head, and a smile immediately blossomed on her face when she saw Werner.

"Werner, what brings you here so early today?" Eva asked, putting down the can she was holding and walking over.

She was wearing a light blue work uniform with the belt tied tightly, accentuating her slender waist. Her long, black hair was held back with a clip, but a few stray strands hung playfully over her forehead.

"I have something I need your help with," Werner said, getting straight to the point. He then paused, as if organizing his thoughts.

"What is it?" Eva asked, blinking curiously at him.

Werner cleared his throat, his tone a little unnatural. "Um... what are your measurements?"