It was the best strategy available to a woman with nothing. Just as Carlyle had said, she had a boldness that defied expectations.

“Above all, please don’t mention my family.”

A quiet smile settled on Davis’s lips as he swallowed the warm, sweet tea.

She really does care deeply about that brother. Without even knowing what that future doctor is up to right now.

“If you agree, I’ll keep my word faithfully until the President and I part ways.”

“Hmm. When do you expect that to be?”

“……That’s…… something I don’t know either.”

Iris caught herself just before blurting out ‘three months.’ She pulled herself back. The way he had slipped in that leading question so smoothly confirmed he was not an easy opponent.

“Ha ha ha ha, of course not. You’ve only just begun.”

“……If exclusive articles about a new lover keep appearing only in Comus, that would be a significant advantage for you as well, Mr. Brandon. So I’d like that guaranteed clearly.”

“Let’s set the contract period at three months after your unfortunate parting. If you were to separate after only a month, the numbers wouldn’t work out for me.”

“……”

“After that, if you were to meet someone new…… or perhaps your feelings when the President finds a new lover…… that kind of content would be needed to make up the difference.”

Iris let out a quiet breath.

The likelihood of her meeting another man within three months was slim, and if the President found a new lover, she could simply play along with whatever reaction was expected.

She had never planned on marriage anyway. In time, she would be forgotten like the President’s other former lovers. So what a soon-to-be-single commoner woman needed most was money and safety.

Money from Carlyle Berthheimer, safety from Davis Brandon. Once the contract with Davis ended, she planned to save the tips the President gave her and move somewhere with better security.

‘Tips seem to come as long as I don’t cause trouble.’

Money really was something. Options she couldn’t have imagined before meeting the President had opened up. Perhaps the greatest power of capital was that it provided choice.

A year and a half remained before her posting ended and she returned to Volterra.

‘After that, I can move into the convent dormitory.’

Since Henry’s future had come into sight, she had found herself imagining her own more often.

“All right.”

After a brief thought, Iris agreed.

“Shall we draw up the contract, then?”

Davis smiled with satisfaction at the pitiful prey that had walked in of its own accord, carrying a pile of gold.

❖ ❖ ❖

“May I ask why you’re coming out of here, Miss Mora?”

The moment Iris stepped out of the Comus building, a familiar face appeared before her. Behind him stood the now-familiar car.

“……How did you know I was here?”

“Get in.”

Iris’s voice sharpened immediately.

Carlyle opened the back door, conscious of the eyes around them. She saw the same glances being cast their way and had no choice but to get in.

“How did you know.”

The moment the door closed, Iris asked again.

“I went to pick you up at school and you didn’t come out. I asked around.”

“From now on, if you have something to say, send a letter. You know where I live.”

“Is coming to pick you up also a breach of contract?”

“It’s not in the contract.”

“If a man who came to pick you up every day suddenly stops after an article comes out, what do people think?”

“……”

“‘One shall not behave in a manner that could be perceived by others as a negative change in the relationship.'”

Carlyle recited one of the contract clauses.

“It’s in the contract, Iris.”

“……”

“I intend to come every day if possible.”

“That clause is far too vague and ambiguous……”

“From now on, wear only the clothes I buy you to work. Not worn-out things like that.”

“……Clothes?”

“Your hair too. Either leave it down or I’ll send a hairdresser.”

No wonder she attracts school parents.

Carlyle glanced over Iris once and turned his gaze back to the window.

“That’s exactly the kind of thing that isn’t in the contract……”

“‘One shall refrain from behavior that negatively impacts the other’s social standing.'”

“……Are you saying my appearance negatively impacts your social standing?”

“Yes.”

The indignant sound that burst from Iris was quite forceful.

“Then you, sir……”

She wanted to fire back at the petty argument the President had started, but she couldn’t. No matter how thoroughly she looked over the man staring out the window, there wasn’t a single flaw to find. He was simply, infuriatingly, like a painting. She gave up and looked away.

Only then did Carlyle smile to himself.

“I came to tell you about the next event. The Hemsdale Auction.”

He took an invitation from his br*ast pocket and set it on Iris’s neatly folded hands in her lap.

“To the department store.”

While Iris looked over the invitation, Carlyle gave the instruction to the driver.

By the time they arrived at the department store, it was nearly closing time. Even so, the staff erupted into a flurry of activity the moment the President appeared.

Carlyle went straight to the floor where women’s clothing was gathered and checked the sales receipts the moment he arrived. The manager, who had been caught entirely off guard, looked painfully pale.

A President came rushing down in a sweat a short while later.

“W-what brings you here without notice, sir!”

“I came for Miss Mora’s everyday wardrobe.”

“Ah, so this is Miss Mora! A pleasure to meet you.”

“Hello……”

He quickly sorted out the most capable sales staff on the floor and the service began. Before long, staff from the jewelry department were also approaching with large boxes in hand.

‘…… Am I actually getting home tonight?’

She was exhausted before it had even started. Iris sank heavily onto the sofa.

❖ ❖ ❖

Iris staggered into her room and dumped the boxes onto the bed. Work clothes, shoes, and accessories that Carlyle had forced on her at the department store.

Her appearance negatively impacting his social standing, of all things. It was insulting and absurd no matter how she thought about it. But Carlyle was the best-dressed gentleman in the country, and she had made up her mind to play the role of his lover faithfully, so she had no choice but to go along.

“Goodness. Where do I put all this?”

Iris opened the lids one by one, sighing deeply, then drew a folded sheet of paper from her pocket. It was a list of clothing and accessory combinations written in the President’s own hand. She thought what a fussy man he was, yet she slipped the paper under her brother’s framed photo on the desk to hold it in place.

Honestly, she wasn’t confident she could manage it on her own. To her eye, everything looked the same.

“Henry. How are your studies going?”

Iris looked at Henry sitting atop the President’s handwriting and let the corners of her mouth curl up.

It had been well over a year since she had last seen her brother’s face. Even during holidays, she couldn’t afford the boat fare to Volterra. She had spent that time working in a factory.

The side income problem was now settled, and the time that freed up left a small hollow in her chest.

‘When Henry gets married, this kind of time will stretch even longer. I can’t just sit still.’

Iris managed to sort the clothes into some kind of order and sat back down at her desk. She took out a fresh sheet of paper and a pencil and began writing carefully, one letter at a time. It was a note asking Daniel to arrange a meeting to explain the illustration work in more detail.

❖ ❖ ❖

The next day, two things changed in her daily life.

The first was that the journalists all vanished cleanly.

Perhaps seeing it as a significant gain, Davis had fulfilled the contract within a single day.

The second was that everyone around her was stunned by her completely transformed appearance.

The Convent School, with its religious character, was a conservative place. Naturally, among teachers dressed in similar fashion, Iris alone looked like a fashion model. The only thing the same was the absence of bright color, but the different silhouette and fabric, the right combination of accessories, and the half-up style she had settled on since she didn’t trust herself with her hair, all contributed to the transformation. Iris spent the entire day answering, like a parrot, the question of where she had bought everything.

It was chaotic and exhausting, but at least there was no risk of negatively impacting the President’s great ‘social standing,’ which was a relief.

The only problem, if it was one, was that walking through the factory district where her rented room was located dressed like this made her rather conspicuous.