Chapter 1.28: The [dressmaker]

After the confrontation, the atmosphere became incredibly tense. Ezekiel looked away from her and she struggled to talk. The other guards came out of the shop with a bag of pastries in hand, only to see the two awkwardly standing far apart. The teenager told them she wouldn’t ask how they got the food if they didn’t ask what happened. With that said, she led them to the dressmaker’s store, a sullen expression clouding her face. She had a lot on her mind right now, and it was difficult to process.

The men let out gasps once they saw how big the place was, making her sigh. She couldn't blame them for their reactions, but still, it wasn't helping her current feelings. She hoped they knew to keep their sugar-covered paws off of the woman’s items. The teen didn’t need any more trouble than what was about to befall her. Leila knew the woman was waiting for her with her claws out, ready to pounce at the moment's notice. The relationship they had was no longer friendly or professional.

“She has twenty guards surveying this place, so stick by my side. These guys are fresh out of the academy.” The teen whispered as they walked into the building’s lounge.

Being a puppet nation, the royal family had academies throughout the nation. They would mold teenagers into loyalists. The acceptance rates ranged from forty to twenty percent, depending on where you lived. Not everyone who graduated from them went on to work under them, however. Some went into political fields within other nations. Others became business owners who made products that benefited the royal family's agenda. Most of the women who worked under the dressmaker were fiercely supportive of the king's rule.

They nodded and looked around distrustfully. It looked like they had stepped into a corporate complex from her world. The floor was glossy from being shined hours prior and was made of marble tile. Large water fountains sprayed water into the air, onto glass dolphins and sirens that sat below. The employees they did walk past were dressed in maxi skirts and white button-up shirts. The multi-skirt gowns and kimonos they had seen moments earlier had disappeared into thin air.

Instead of staring, the women nodded their heads in greeting and went back out to work. Leila was in shock from how different the entire vibe of the dressmaker’s headquarters had been. She remembered the author describing the woman as innovative, but this was on another level. The early 1900s Eurasia aesthetic was gone and replaced with that of a modern rich woman's mansion. It was a subtle reminder that the author had taken some obvious liberties when creating the world she was stuck in.

The teenager stopped as they reached an elevator. “I’ll warn you guys now. She’s going to hit me.”

Ezekiel stayed silent as one of his men gawked at her declaration. He gulped and spoke up, his voice engulfed in surprise. “Are you serious? We shouldn’t be walking into a fight without any warning!”

"I knew if I told you all, you'd stop me from coming." She bowed her head briefly. Her voice became apologetic as she continued speaking. "I'm sorry if you guys are upset with me."

Another guard spoke up this time. "We'll have to tell the boss about this when we get back."

Leila accepted this as the elevator doors slide open with a loud ding. They were made of glass, allowing you to see everything there was beneath you as you ascended. The men stepped in first and she followed to stand in front. She rearranged her hair as she instructed them to hit the button for the tenth floor. That’s where the dressmaker would be waiting. The entire floor was just her office. As one of the men pushed the button, it glowed white, and the doors slid shut, this time with a thud. The noise made her stomach twist a little.

It wasn’t like she was afraid of the older woman. Enamored by her beauty and story of success, yes. But she felt no fear of being face to face with her. She was worried that whatever happened today would hurt Cleo. She touched her chest right above her heart and pressed down on it. The teenager knew the body’s previous owner had died in the novel. But at times, she wasn’t too sure if she would be dead once Leila returned home. Her goal to destroy this accursed world was still leading her down this path.

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But if they gave her the chance to part from Cleo and leave her as the goddess of this demonic place, she’d do it. Her memories had started to change the way she saw this world. It was clear that Cleo was enraged the day the prince turned his back on her. She could feel the nauseous feeling that had overtaken her as she fell to the ground. But she called out to the heavens and begged for any type of salvation. And for some odd reason, the moment Leila’s soul entered her body, the assassin rested, believing that it had answered her calls.

‘I’m no angel, but I’ll get the vengeance you prayed for.’ The teenager’s hand fell, and she looked down at her boots. She smiled, but there was no humor in her expression, only exhaustion.

“If things go as planned, I’ll take you all out for drinks.” She said with a faux smirk as the guards gawked at her. From what she could see out of the corner of her eyes, they looked unsure to laugh or roll their eyes. “What? Have you men never gone to a bar with a woman like me?”

The guard with the beard from before coughed. “It would be improper for us to drink with an employer’s daughter.”

“Ah, that’s too bad then,” Leila said, happy to poke fun at them for once.

It helped melt the frostiness that had spread throughout the elevator as they went up. By the time the ascent stopped, she felt more relaxed. The doors slid open and warm hair washed over the group's body. The teenager's body was hot as she led them down the hall. It was long and wide, with display cases lining the walls. In the glass cases sat mannequins that were oily in texture. On them were an onslaught of dresses, skirts, and wedding gowns. Each one had a distinct look at them, whether it be the fabric used or the dyes the dressmaker chose. If the woman wasn't such a sneaky bitch, the teenager would praise her.

The entire floor was to showcase how advanced the woman's skill set had become. She was a prodigy who spent years working her way up. They perfectly planned every venture she entered to get the best investment out of it. Becoming her enemy would be foolish to anyone in the industry. If you wanted to design outfits for nobles, you had to be on her good side. She had stocks in most of the city's clothing stores. She also taught many up-and-coming legends. Thankfully, none of this leverage could permanently affect Cleo's reputation. Sure, Leila counted on getting backlash, but she'd survive. A noblewoman from a notable family held more power than a new talent in the eyes of many.

"I think my sister has magazines from this designer." One of the men whispered to the others. He sounded as if he were in disbelief. "She spent my whole paycheck on last year's issue."

Another laughed and nudged the man. "If this goes well, maybe you can get her an autograph." They both let out chuckles at the absurdity of it all.

Leila kept her thoughts to herself. She had to stay calm and collected for what was about to happen. As they reached the entrance to her office, the teenager took a deep breath. She allowed herself to prepare mentally as she let herself exhale. The doors were touch-activated, so all she had to do was put her palm against one. One of the silver doors shook and began to vibrate as the teen touched it. She stepped back, and both doors slid into their wall and opened up to allow them to enter. The cool air that was fragranced hit the teenager’s nose as she beckoned her men to follow her forward. They entered a large room with an oval desk at its end.

Sitting at the oval table was a woman Leila recognized. The books didn't do her justice, as she was able to take in her full appearance. Described as being slender and attractive, the woman looked like a supermodel from the 1990s. Her doe eyes were decorated with light eyeshadow as she looked the group up and down. Soft, moisturized hands with fake acrylic nails tapped at her chin. She was judging them silently, but her feelings were clear. With a grin, she got up from her seat and stood, making one of the men curse. She was incredibly tall, being six foot two without any heels on. Her bedazzled shirt sleeves made noise as she held her arms to her sides.

"Cleo, aren't you going to come to hug me? I thought this would be a friendly meeting." The older woman said with a slather of fake southern charm plastered on top.

Leila rolled her eyes, throwing her petticoat to the ground. It was sweltering with the heat. "We stopped being friends when you threatened my maids. I thought a woman of your class would know better than to lay a hand on an innocent."