12 — A Date Out on the Town

A carriage bearing the Fisalis family crest pulled up to the entrance. Mr. Fisalis helped me in before taking the seat across from me, and off we went.

“So where are we going today?” I asked him once the carriage started to move and I could hear the sound of hooves on cobblestone.

“It’s a secret,” he responded, dodging my question.

“Oh, is it?” I mean, I’m fine with whatever, but if he had asked where I wanted to go, I wouldn’t have hesitated to say the confectionery shop!

I wonder where we’re going... this carriage must be top notch; it barely jolts or shudders at all... it’s almost rocking me to sleep, I thought to myself as I gazed out my window at the shops and the people walking along the street. There was a break in the crowd, and the carriage came to a halt in front of a shop.

The massive stone storefront practically screamed “no poor people allowed!” That must be why this place looks so empty, I decided for myself.

Then Mr. Fisalis said, “We’ve arrived at our first stop,” before taking my hand and helping me out of the carriage.

And there it was—I saw the sign as soon as I got out.

Haute Couture de Fleur. The store that made my gowns.

I’ve lived in the capital from the time I was born. I’ve passed by this place a million times before. Granted, I was on foot then, not in a fancy carriage, and I never once actually went inside. Not that I’m bragging or anything.

“M—Mr. Fisalis?” I balked at the sight of all the employees and Madame Fleur herself lined up in front of the shop to greet us, and reflexively gripped Mr. Fisalis’ hand tighter. I guess my reaction satisfied him, because he lightly patted my hand as if to soothe me.

“There’s nothing wrong with taking a peek in the shop from time to time, right? And they don’t just make evening gowns here either—they do everyday clothes, too. And they have plenty of ready-to-wear clothes, as well. Let’s just browse,” he said with a gentle smile, although browse obviously also included ‘and let me buy you something.’ I don’t need anymore clooothes. Especially more gowns. Especially.

Does he even look at the price tag before he says, “sure, let’s buy this one?” I suppose it’s no big deal considering his family’s fortune, but it makes me—someone who still thinks like a commoner—want to cry.

“Another gown?” I asked, looking up at him.

“We have lots of casual clothes! And not just clothing—a wide range of accessories to choose from, too. It’s quite chaotic out here, so why don’t you come inside?” It was not Mr. Fisalis who answered me, but Madame Fleur, who then gracefully ushered us into the shop.

“I guess it can’t hurt” With that, I relented.

Walking past all the smiling shop staff members who came to welcome us made me feel like I was walking down a red carpet; after that, I passed through the door and into my very first luxury boutique.

“What sort of gown are we making today?” the madame inquired.

“Hmm, preferably one that enhances Viola’s natural beauty. I trust your skills, Madame,” Mr. Fisalis replied.

“Oh ho ho ho! You flatter me, Duke Fisalis! It’s an honor to be able to dress someone as lovely as your wife. The violet gown I made for her earlier was so well-received that I was flooded with orders for gowns of the same style, don’t you know.”

“You don’t say! I’m glad to hear that. Viola makes for an excellent model!”

“She does indeed. I’d quite like to make Viola my walking billboard. The same went for your mother, Duke. ”

Madame Fleur practically glided over the floor as she showed us around the shop. The innermost part seemed to be for receiving customers. There, no sooner had the two of us sat down on a lavish sofa than tea was brought to us and the ominous (at least to me) conversation above unfolded between Mr. Fisalis and Madame Fleur.

Oi, I’m right here, Mr. Fisalis. You think you’re gonna have another gown made? How many times do I have to tell you? My closet is... My apologies. I’m rambling. Please omit this part.

What are they talking about, though, with models and billboards? I’m the one who wore the darn thing! There wouldn’t have been any formal makeup or a gown if they weren’t on me! Please remember, I’m just an ordinary girl! At any rate, if I stay quiet any longer, I’m going to end up with another gown I don’t need! I’ve got to change the subject here.

I pulled myself together and waited for a lull in their conversation to address Mr. Fisalis.

“Mr. Fisalis? I saw some lovely shirts on display back there... What did you think of them? I thought they’d look great on you.”

A stylish black silk shirt had caught my eye as I was walking through the shop. The price was not important to me; this was merely a tactic to shift the focus from myself to Mr. Fisalis.

“You did?”

“Yes! You must not have much time to go shopping for yourself, since you’re so busy, right? I know you don’t get many chances to wear casual clothes, but that’s exactly why I’d like to buy you something nice! Now’s your chance!”

I felt like I was one of the employees myself, even going as far as to tack on a million-dollar smile.

“We came to look at clothes for you, not me. But if you think I ought to give it a try...” he protested, but not wholeheartedly.

Okay, one more to go!

“Let’s go look at it! What do you say, Madame?” I nudged.

“Go right ahead. And if you have the time, feel free to try it on as well,” she told us, providing me with the backup I desperately needed.

I got up from the sofa and tugged on Mr. Fisalis’ hand.

“Alright, let’s see it...” he said, finally getting up and heading with me back into the main area of the shop.

I had successfully flipped the conversation from getting a dress for me to a shirt for Mr. Fisalis.

Mission accomplished!

“This is the same shirt as before, just in a different color. But even a simple change of color gives it an entirely different feeling,” Madame Fleur explained.

“This color suits you, too. You could use a second look in your wardrobe, as well.”

“Really? Alright then. I’ll take this one,” he said, passing the shirt to the madame.

“Of course. Oh, if I may make a suggestion, this style of shirt would actually pair better with these trousers than the ones you are wearing now,” Madame Fleur said as she brought over a pair of pants from another display case.

A true saleswoman!

“Having another style of pants makes for more possible outfits. They would make a nice addition to your wardrobe since they’re so different from what you’re wearing now.”

“You’re right. If you insist, Viola.”

He handed those to Madame, too. In the end, Mr. Fisalis picked out the shirt I’d suggested for him, along with another in a different color and style. But seeing as he also bought another pair of pants, and a jacket on top of that... I can’t say he was actually interested in a new look as much as simply splurging.

Hold on a second. Now that I think about it, all I accomplished with redirecting the conversation was making him waste more of his money.

What have I done!? I used him in my own effort to not let him spend money on me! What has become of me!?

At least he spent his money on himself. Yeah, I’ll go with that logic. Treating yourself is worth something, right? Okay, now I’m settled.

“Thanks for picking these out for me, Viola. I’m really happy,” he said with another dazzling smile, even though the only thing I had actually picked for him myself was the first black shirt. The rest had been him following Madame Fleur’s suggestions. Sure.

“You are? That’s great. Ah heh heh heh.”

I don’t have Mimosa’s fashion sense—not even close—and I don’t see how you could go wrong with a plain black shirt. I mean, who doesn’t look good in a black shirt?

“If you’re satisfied, why don’t we get going?”

We loaded his parcels into the carriage, then got in ourselves. Shortly thereafter, we arrived at our next destination.

“The former head chef at the Royal Palace opened this restaurant after he retired,” Mr. Fisalis explained to me after we disembarked in front of a famous, high-end eatery. Even the royal family were known to visit in secret. I wasn’t sure what to say to him.

You must have to pay big bucks to eat here, considering who runs the place and the kinds of customers he attracts.

And yes, I used to walk by this place all the time, too. No, wait... I was always too intimidated to even walk on this side of the street, actually.

The restaurant was, in fact, a former noble’s remodeled villa and gave off strong ‘invite-only’ energy. The stylish black marble around the doorway imbued the building with a certain intimidation factor, as if to scare off the common plebs. It seemed like I was the only one getting this impression, though—Mr. Fisalis’ expression suggested this was nothing out of the ordinary to him.

He’s the living embodiment of rich kid syndrome.

“We’ve been expecting you... Duke Fisalis. Duchess,” said a man dressed like a butler as he silently swung open the wrought iron gate. I had no idea how long he had been there for. He was handsome, though, with short blond hair combed back smooth and shiny. He was older than Mr. Fisalis, maybe around Bellis’ age. His voice was low and easy on my ears.

...Argh, this is no time to be ogling some guy in butler cosplay. We must have a reservation if he said he’s been waiting for us.

“Oh!” I accidentally said out loud, suddenly realizing something...

“What’s the matter?” Mr. Fisalis asked me with a look of surprise.

“Oh, er, nothing. My apologies.”

He gave me a puzzled look.

So that’s what that was for.

The reason Dahlia had given me that medicine before I left the manor (or more accurately, when I was still hiding in my room) finally hit me.

She and the other servants knew I’d be eating out today. That’s why she’d had me take that medicine beforehand, and then also bring more with me. She must have anticipated that I’d have stomach problems.

I felt my eyes begin to water at their consideration for me.

“What are we waiting for? You’re going to love the food here, I’m sure of it!” Mr. Fisalis encouraged me, gallantly leading the way.

“I love Cartham’s food...” I mumbled back.

“Huh? Did you say something?”

“No?”

Whatever kind of food it was, the restaurant was prepared for my sensitive stomach (you might even say they took measures to avoid all-out intestinal war) and brought me my food in small portions... but it was still luxury cuisine. The pinnacle of luxury cuisine, even.

I certainly couldn’t complain about the taste, but I found myself in a tricky situation where I needed to take the rest of my medicine.

I finally saw my chance when Mr. Fisalis looked away for a split second while my stomach was still under a ceasefire: I poured the powder into my glass of water and downed it. I don’t think he noticed a thing.

I made it through the danger zone without a hitch and finished my meal.

I was starting to feel like going home, but Mr. Fisalis seemed to have other plans and smilingly announced, “Onwards to our next stop.” Was there no escape?

Ugggh, not anoth— Oops. No sneak preview of my true thoughts for you.

The next place we went was a jewelry shop, but not the one that had made all my previous accessories. Apparently this place was popular with young people.

By ‘young people,’ I mean wealthy young people, of course.

I’m getting tired of this ‘going out’ thing. How much does he wanna spend in one trip? I already have a boatload of jewelry, and he still wants to buy me more.

“Viola, this ring is really cute. Why don’t you try it on?”

“It sure is, but I have enough rings already.”

The ring Mr. Fisalis showed me was dripping with gemstones and sure to get in the way when I did the laundry or the cleaning, so I responded with immediate rejection.

“Oh, alright. What about a necklace, then?”

“I just got a new one for the last soiree, remember?”

“Hmm, earrings?”

“A pair were made to go with the necklace.”

“Er, then what about—”

“Oh, I think I see some nice cufflinks over there.”

As stubbornly—er, ardently as he tried to show me this and that, I managed to redirect his eyes to a cufflink display in another showcase. Another strategic topic switch successfully deployed. The tides have turned against you once more, Mr. Fisalis. You’re going to buy yourself something whether you planned to or not.

He looked towards where I had indicated and said, “Oh, you’re right.”

Unfortunately he gave the cufflinks only a passing glance before returning to the women’s section.

“But those will look great with the shirt you’re wearing today! And I bet they’ll also look nice with the new ones you bought, too!” I pressed on. Great, I sound like I work here, now!

“Would you like to try them on?” The owner of the store who had been showing us around finally broke his silence, providing me with some much-appreciated support.

Sir or Madam, I won’t turn down help when I need it!

“If you think I should, Viola...” Mr. Fisalis agreed somewhat reluctantly, picking up the cufflinks and putting them on.

The cufflinks were of a simple style, which meant they not only went well with the shirt he was wearing, but would probably go equally well with most shirts.

Less! Is! More!

“They look great! But I bet everything looks great on you, Mr. Fisalis.”

What am I saying? I’m gonna give real sales clerks a run for their money!

“You think so?”

It looked like Mr. Fisalis was no match for my skills on the salesroom floor here, either.

And so Mr. Fisalis bought himself a pair of cufflinks that he quite suddenly found himself drawn to. Store number two, down!

Our next stop was a members-only cafe. It was very obvious that everyone there was rich, and it made me feel uncomfortable.

I’m certain he said that he’d take me to a trendy confectionery shop, so how did we end up at a cafe with such elite regulars? This doesn’t make any sense.

I like the tea that Dahlia and Mimosa make for me just fine, I immediately started to whine internally.

By the time we finally returned home, it was well into the evening.

He... he never took me to the confectioner’s, I moped with a distant look in my eyes as I stepped into the entryway.

Rather than going on a date, I felt like I just spent the day doing things that only Mr. Fisalis liked. Had I been some starry-eyed romanticist, maybe I would have gotten a kick out of our VIP-only date, but alas, I am but a penniless realist. The amount of money I saw flying around on that trip was mind boggling. There was no way I could have enjoyed myself.

Mr. Fisalis, on the other hand, was happy as a clam from start to finish. His brain must be wired differently than mine. Like, fundamentally.

“I had so much fun today,” he told me once we were inside. Yup, as a clam.

“Oh, that’s good. I’m glad to have gone with you,” I said back, although I couldn’t honestly say that I had enjoyed myself. I mean, I was utterly wiped out after all that. I scolded myself for being so easily exhausted and forced myself to smile.

“You really don’t care for dresses and jewelry or five-star meals, do you?” His face went from one of joy to one clouded in worry as he gazed at my own tired expression.

Oh, so now you notice!? Who was it, again, that decided I liked those things in the first place? Taking someone on a date without asking what they even like is a bit weird, isn’t it?

Suddenly overcome by a rush of exhaustion, I let my fake smile drop and replied honestly, “No, I don’t.”

“I had a feeling you didn’t,” Mr. Fisalis said with a sad smile.

Was I too direct?

Worried that I’d said too much, I peered into his dark, beautiful eyes. They quickly softened and he said, “I’ll have to conduct more thorough research next time, then. Let’s give this a second try later.” He wanted to give it another shot, even though he had failed the first time.

But what does he mean by ‘research’?

“Okay...” I replied half-heartedly. It couldn’t hurt to give him one more chance to impress me, right?