“Do you have all these designs in stock?”
“Yes, absolutely. These are all my sketches—just never made it to the official catalog. You know… this kind of lingerie…”
As she spoke, the clerk’s cheeks flushed deeper, yet her eyes sparkled with fervor. Beneath that shy blush lay a heart quietly set on “great endeavors.”
“I see. Then wrap them all up.”
“Ah, of course—I’ll wrap them all—wait?!”
The clerk had assumed Evelia was carefully picking a favorite after staring at the catalog so long. Instead, she boldly declared she wanted every single one of the hundred-plus designs.
“All of them?!”
“Yes. I’ll take them all. Don’t worry about price—I have funds.”
*Funds*, meaning she’d request mission expenses from the Second Prince later.
Requesting bulk lingerie funds from her superior felt odd, but Evelia, mission-focused, didn’t care. These were just tools for the Second Prince’s task—he’d approve.
If not… rewording the request was always an option.
“It’s not about money! Will you even wear them all?”
“One set a day works.”
“What kind of logic is that?!” The clerk, unusually fired up, slapped the catalog. “If it’s just for underneath, plain underwear suffices! Designs like these aren’t meant to be buried under thick fabric…!”
“…”
Evelia paused, as if processing.
“You mean… wear them *as outerwear*?”
“Of course! This style is *meant* to be seen!”
In Evelia’s mind flashed an image: herself changing daily into different lingerie sets, appearing before Arman in a barely-there outfit—
“Not impossible.”
She’d completely misunderstood.
“Exactly! This alluring, display-style lingerie needs outerwear exposure for full impact. Don’t let such beauty vanish under layers, never seeing daylight!”
“Hmm… makes sense.”
Evelia couldn’t pinpoint why, but the clerk’s passionate sincerity swayed her.
“Tell me about the gentleman you like. I’ll tailor recommendations.”
“Hmm…”
Evelia hummed softly, mentally tracing Arman’s features. She searched carefully for the right words.
Finally, she lifted her head, dead serious:
“An idiot. But not *completely* an idiot.”
“…?”
The clerk offered a polite, confused smile.
“And… not exactly bright either.”
This was Evelia’s highest praise for Arman. Not calling him a full idiot was already restraint.
“When you say ‘idiot’… do you mean… adorably clumsy?”
The clerk strained to soften the word—surely it was playful couple-talk, like “silly bunny.”
“Dumb… but not *too* dumb…?”
Evelia had no idea “dumb” could be endearing. To her, it was just synonymous with “idiot.” Her hesitation? She still hadn’t figured Arman out.
“No wonder you lean cute—‘idiot couples’ adore this style!”
“I’m not dumb.”
“Ah—I didn’t mean *you*—”
“And we’re not a couple.”
“Mm-hmm, of course, of course…”
A bead of sweat trickled down the clerk’s temple. *So serious, so literal… yet doing “seduce a man she doesn’t like”? Roleplay? Unlikely…*
“So… is this gentleman upright and pure-hearted?”
“…No.”
*Upright? Pure?* Evelia felt zero traces of that in Arman.
“Ah… complex personality, then. How old is he?”
“Twenty-six.” Evelia answered instantly—she’d memorized every detail.
“Prime age! For a vigorous young knight like him, skip forced cuteness. Showcase your figure.”
From Evelia’s silhouette and pink hair, the clerk saw less “cute,” more delicate allure. Her flawless form was no accident—this “post-transformation” body, crafted via specialized Alchemy. The Second Prince’s connections secured the Alchemist.
As for *that* Alchemist’s fate? Part of Evelia’s “rehabilitation training.”
Her first order upon awakening: eliminate the only witness. As an elite assassin, she succeeded.
Now, only the Second Prince and Evelia knew her true past.
“His profession?”
“Knight.”
“Family background?”
Evelia recalled the massive estate.
“Affluent.”
“And your role?”
“Maid.”
“…Maid?”
The clerk’s brain instantly drafted a 5,000-word maid-master romance—complete with heavily pixelated scenes.
“Ahem. Understood. I’ll prepare sets.”
Snapping out of her fantasy, she wiped imaginary drool, pulled five small wooden boxes from the cabinet.
“Lingerie shouldn’t hide—but it must serve its purpose. Try this.”
She presented a snow-white set. Utterly plain, undecorated. The fabric felt feather-soft, smooth as milk candy. Slightly less coverage than standard, yet modest—radiating quiet purity.
“This…?”
“Exactly. White = purity. Knights chase justice; they resonate with pure elegance. This lingerie? A holy relic of innocence.”
—*How does she link holy relics and lingerie?* Evelia felt a flicker of skepticism.
“So this set ensures he ‘accidentally’ glimpses your pristine white. He’ll crave your innocence. Some prefer bold exposure—but pristine white? *That’s* true allure. Only white ignites the urge to… taint.”
Evelia had no issue with the set itself—she deferred to the clerk. But the wording grew… odder.
“Fine. Wrap it.”
“First things first, miss.” The clerk handed her the lingerie and a white dress. “Try it on now.”
“…”
Evelia paused a moment—then accepted it.
