Olive stared at me, his chest heaving as his sheer terror began to morph into a frantic, hysterical shock. His eyes locked onto the way my tattered commoner dress blended seamlessly with the grotesque, crimson flesh of my folded blood-wings. Suddenly, the fear in his expression twisted into a manic intensity, as if he were staring directly into a dangerous gold mine.
"You... you're the winged demon! You're a monster, Eirene! Every single person in this kingdom wants your head! The bounty on you is worth a fortune!"
Driven by a sudden surge of panicked greed and survival instinct, Olive abandoned his measuring tape. He lunged toward his desk, his fingers wrapping around a sharp sewing dagger. With a wild cry, he turned and tried to plunge the blade straight into my chest.
He didn't even get close.
Before I could move, Alta blurred into motion. She intercepted Olive instantly, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the dagger clattered harmlessly to the floor. With a brutal display of her Diamond-rank strength, she slammed him face-first onto the wooden floor, pinning him down effortlessly under her boot.
"Listen to me carefully, tailor, if you don't wish to contribute to fixing this coat, we will kill you right here on the spot. No one knows we're in this room." Alta growled, her deep male voice dripping with cold menace as she pressed him into the floorboards.
I just stood there, completely expressionless, watching the scene unfold. A bitter, heavy weight settled in my chest. An innocent boy, nearly killed on the spot just because of what I am. A demon. A monster. Everywhere I went, my mere existence brought violence, fear, and death. I was a plague under a canvas cloak.
Shaking off the dark thoughts, I stepped forward and tapped my pencil against my notepad. I quickly scribbled a message and held it down right in front of Olive's wide, terrified eyes:
We will spare your life. Measure me.
Seeing the absolute seriousness of the situation, and realizing that I was offering him mercy despite his betrayal, Olive's hysterical panic finally began to subside. He gave a frantic, desperate nod against the floorboards.
Alta glanced up at me, saw my silent nod, and slowly backed off, releasing her grip.
"Behave yourself," she warned, crossing her arms as she stood guard by the locked door.
Olive pushed himself up trembling, wiping a bead of cold sweat from his forehead. He swallowed his pride and his fear, fully understanding that his life hung by a thread. Avoiding direct eye contact with my massive blood-wings, he reached with a shaking hand for his leather measuring tape. Step by step, he approached me, pulled the tape taut, and professionally began taking the precise measurements of my height, my waist, and my altered, monstrous silhouette.
Olive worked with meticulous care, though his hands trembled violently every time his fingers brushed against my skin. In his mind, he was convinced that any wrong move would turn him into my next dinner.
"Eirene... please, I need you to... to undress down to your undergarments. I can't get accurate dimensions for a high-end magical coat with that thick dress bundling up." Olive stammered, his voice shaking with pure terror, not perversion.
To ensure the trench coat would fit perfectly against my skin, I complied. I slipped off my commoner dress, leaving me standing in just my bra and panties.
Olive swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure as a professional designer despite his absolute dread.
"Can you... can you remove your bra for a moment? I need the exact bare chest and underbust contours to structure the inner leather lining."
Maintaining what little privacy I had left in the locked room, with Alta still standing guard like a warden over a hostage, I unclipped the bra. Olive stepped in close, focusing entirely on his craft to numb his fear. He pulled the measuring tape taut around the fullest part of my chest.
The cold measuring tape pressed against my skin, revealing my bust size to be exactly 36 inches. He professionally moved the tape around my chest, pulling it taut to record a bust point of 3 inches from my nipple all the way to my chest line, temporarily removing the fabric completely to ensure his tailoring would account for the weight and drape of the coat. I could genuinely tell that despite his terror, he was a high-end fashion designer devoted to his craft.
He worked quickly, adjusting the tape to see how the fabric would naturally lay against my form before I immediately put my bra back on, securely maintaining my privacy.
Olive then moved the tape lower, recording my waist at 28 inches and my hips at 38 inches around the fullest part of my lower body. He measured my remaining right bicep at 12 inches, my back waist length at 16 inches, and my front waist length at 17 inches. Next, he dropped the tape straight down, measuring my waist to the floor at 42 inches, my hip depth at 8 inches, and finally my shoulder length at 15 inches.
From there, his tape measure flew across the rest of my body, recording the precise data needed to draft the pattern:
Measurement Type Dimension
Waist 28 inches
Hips 38 inches
Bicep 12 inches
Back Waist Length 16 inches
Front Waist Length 17 inches
Waist to Floor 42 inches
Hip Depth 8 inches
Shoulder Length 15 inches
Once he finished the standard human portions, I picked up my notepad and scribbled a critical instruction, holding it up to his face:
Trench coat: do not include wing cutouts. Keep them hidden.
I needed the coat to act as my ultimate cover in public. It had to be durable enough to compress and completely conceal my monstrous wings without tearing the fabric or alerting the public.
Olive read the note and nodded, his professional instincts fully taking over his fear.
"I understand. If we are compressing them flat against your back beneath the lining, I need to know the exact volume and height of the folded appendages so the back panels don't burst when you move."
He stepped behind me, carefully avoiding the sharp edges of my crimson appendages, and stretched the tape from the base of the wing joints to their highest folded peak.
He carefully brought the tape behind me, measuring the height of my folded blood-wings at exactly 32 inches.
With the final numbers scribbled down in his ledger, Olive stepped back, letting out a long, shaky breath. He finally understood exactly how to build the perfect, aura-cloaked disguise for the Crimson Phantom.
A fierce blush crept up my neck and across my cheeks as I hurriedly pulled my commoner dress back over my head. Standing entirely exposed like that had been humiliating, but it was the price I had to pay for a flawless fit.
As I straightened my clothes, Olive tapped his pencil against his ledger, his voice finally losing its terrified edge and returning to his usual professional tone.
"Well, everything is settled for the measurements. However, the trench coat won't be finished immediately. You'll need to wait a whole week. Designing a high-end magical garment that can fully compress and completely hide your monstrous appearance without tearing at the seams is going to take a massive amount of intricate, daily labor, Eirene."
I nodded understandingly, reaching over to the coatrack to retrieve my canvas cloak. But just as I began buttoning the heavy clasps one by one, Alta stepped forward, her broad silhouette casting a long, dark shadow over Olive's desk. Her deep voice was ice-cold.
"Now, Olive... let's talk about what happens next, after this little mess, are you going to run straight to the Bureau and report Eirene? I know your kind, tailor. The second she showed her wings, you didn't think twice, you grabbed a dagger and tried to kill her on the spot for a payday. Thanks for the measurements, but I think we'll just find another tailor. You've seen far too much. You must die."
Olive's eyes went wide with renewed terror as Alta reached for her weapon.
Panicking, I immediately threw myself between them, placing my hand firmly on Alta's arm to stop her from intervening any further. I shook my head rigidly, telling her with my eyes to stand down. Turning toward the trembling tailor, I gave him a deep, apologetic bow and handed him a quickly scribbled note:
Sorry for my friend's threats. Please, spare my secret. Don't tell the Bureau I am the Crimson Phantom. Don't tell a single soul that I am a blood-sucking winged demon.
Olive looked at the note, then up at my single jade eye. Seeing my genuine remorse and the humility in my bow, the lingering greed and fear in his chest finally melted away, replaced by a deep sense of guilt. He looked down at the floor, thoroughly ashamed of his earlier knee-jerk reaction.
"Sure, Eirene... I will keep your secret, I'm sorry for jumping you earlier. The truth is, you're the entire reason this shop is still standing. Your constant influx of rare materials saved my business and my family from financial ruin, and today you just handed me a priceless chest of neospider silk. No worries, Eirene. I'm no traitor. Your secret is entirely safe with me."
I walked over to the coatrack, grabbed the heavy Death Chant Shotgun, and strapped it securely back onto my back. I picked up my purse, tore a fresh sheet of paper from my notepad, and quickly wrote out a final message to both Alta and Olive, apologizing for the intense inconvenience and the chaos our meeting had caused.
Olive offered a reassuring, tired smile as he tucked his ledger away.
"Don't worry about it, Eirene. Just come back in a week, and your coat will be completely ready."
Alta, however, didn't look completely convinced. She threw a sharp, lingering glare back at Olive, her deep-seated trust issues regarding her friend making her highly skeptical of the tailor's sudden change of heart. Still, respecting my wishes, she didn't press the matter further and turned to leave the room.
The moment Alta unlocked the heavy workshop door and stepped out, Alice was waiting right in the corridor, her arms crossed and a pout on her face.
"Roxy! What in the world was that commotion with the boss in there? I heard shouting!"
I couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of warmth at her familiar antics. Maintaining my silence, I simply offered her a soft, reassuring smile, reached up to gently pat her hair, and walked past her. With our business with Olive finally settled, Alta and I left the tailor shop behind, stepping back into the bustling streets of the Merchant District.