I'm the type who doesn't care a bit about what others think.
Though, I've never faced discrimination for being Asian.
"If you want to do it, then do it."
I'll just repay the favor once I enter the school, too.
Maybe it was because I walked too calmly.
The whispers grew louder.
Not that I cared.
I slowly looked around the tailor shop.
Through the large windows, I saw three mannequins lined up, displaying only their upper bodies.
The clothes looked impeccable, down to the smallest seams, as if their material was of the highest quality.
Well, it is a tailor shop handpicked by the royal family.
It's only natural for the quality to be excellent.
"Speaking of which…"
Was it just my imagination?
For some reason, the store felt oddly familiar.
I thought of dismissing it, thinking all tailor shops are the same.
"But no…"
I had definitely seen this place somewhere before.
Where was it…
As I tried to recall, I heard the click of the door opening.
The wall had a blend of green wallpaper on the upper part and wood paneling on the lower part.
Beside it, mirrors framed with thick wooden edges caught my eye.
"That's it!"
"Kingsman."
This high-end tailor shop was just like the secret base used by the agents in that movie.
Since there was a line of customers, I had plenty of time to look around the store.
And my conclusion?
"It's a match."
This tailor shop was exactly like the one I saw in the movie!
There was something else that caught my attention.
On one side of the wall, there was a painting secured with acrylic protection.
Why is there such tight security around it…?
Wait, is that a Caravaggio?
A painting that should be in the National Gallery of the British Museum is hanging in a simple tailor shop?
"How on earth…?"
I took long strides toward it.
The closer I got, the more the painting's brilliance became evident.
Despite its simple composition, it had a force that commanded attention.
The stark contrast between light and darkness.
The overwhelming brushstrokes that tied it all together.
How long had I been lost in the painting?
Tap, tap.
It wasn't until someone tapped my shoulder that I snapped back to reality.
"…!"
I finally came to my senses.
"Seems like you're quite taken with the painting."
It was an elderly man holding a measuring tape, dressed in a neat suit.
At a glance, it was clear he owned the shop.
"When people come here, they're usually too caught up in their school uniforms to notice anything else. I understand. It's exciting to be admitted to the Royal Academy."
"…"
"So, it's rare for anyone to even glance at this painting."
At that, the old man looked in my direction.
"It's been a while since someone showed an interest in it."
"Is it a Caravaggio?"
"Oh-ho."
The old man's eyes gleamed at my words.
"Are you planning to major in art history?"
"No."
He looked at me with a face that seemed to ask how I could know the artist just by observing the style.
Well… that's because I'm living my second life. Ahem.
But how could I tell him that?
"I just really like Caravaggio."
I hastily made up an excuse and quickly changed the subject.
"But how did you come to own such an extraordinary piece?"
"Couldn't it be a replica?"
"There's no way. Just look at the brushwork…"
He smirked at my response, his lips curling up.
"You're not an ordinary person, are you?"
"Oh, it's just…"
"You're right. It's authentic. It's a piece that used to belong to the royal family, but they lent it to us for the benefit of the students."
"The Queen lent them?"
"Yes. Since this is a place where new students from the Royal Academy flock every year, she was willing to lend a few pieces, hoping it would serve as a small art gallery for them."
So that means there are more pieces besides the Caravaggio?
"Would you like to see them?"
"Yes, definitely."
"Very well. This way, please."
The old man led me to a small space inside the building.
It seemed like a place where they would do fittings.
On one wall of the narrow room hung a large painting.
"Botticelli…"
"You recognize it at a glance as well."
The style was very similar to the famous The Birth of Venus.
So, I couldn't help but make an educated guess.
"There are more in the back."
"…!"
"Do you recognize this one too?"
"Diego Velázquez…"
"My goodness, you said you were particularly fond of Caravaggio, but judging by how you recognize each work, you seem to love art itself."
I felt a little sorry, but I didn't have time to pay attention to the old man's reaction.
I was too busy marveling at the artworks in front of me.
The fortunate thing was that while I was lost in the paintings, the old man didn't say much.
He waited a step back, allowing me to fully appreciate them.
How much time had passed, I couldn't say.
"Oh, I'm sorry. You must be busy, and I…"
"Not at all. I'm just grateful that you've recognized the value of these works."
The old man smiled warmly, as if he wasn't just saying that out of politeness.
"In fact, I personally selected these works."
"You selected them yourself…"
"I picked these three pieces, thinking about what would be appropriate to recommend to the students of the Royal Academy."
"I did find it interesting that all the pieces seemed to carry the theme of 'beginnings'…"
"Haha, I'm glad you noticed."
His gentle smile deepened with satisfaction.
"You're absolutely right. Entering school is like taking the first step into a new world. I selected these works to cheer on their journey. Did they help you?"
"They were more than helpful."
I think we continued talking about art for quite some time after that.
"I believe we could become good friends."
"Friends? But there's such a gap in age…"
"What does the number of years we've lived really matter? If we can look at the same things together, that makes us friends."
It felt like I had met a remarkable person.
I was beginning to understand why the royal family had chosen this place.
Thanks to him, what had seemed like a bothersome errand had turned into an immensely pleasant experience.
"I must apologize. In my enthusiasm, I've been rambling unnecessarily."
"No, not at all."
The old man soon retrieved his measuring tape.
"I could have continued our chat while working, but it seems I got too caught up myself."
It seemed like it was time to return to his main task.
The old man began checking my upper body.
It wasn't just a matter of taking measurements; he examined the contours of my body repeatedly.
"Are you an athlete?"
"No."
"Then?"
"I just work out a bit as a hobby…"
"You have an incredibly solid and well-balanced physique. It feels like something you've worked on for a long time."
Hmm, is it really that noticeable?
"Your natural frame is also excellent. The line from your shoulders down to your arms is impeccable. Any tailor would want to work with a model like you."
So, you're saying I should go ahead with the finest fabric, right? Maybe something that costs a billion won… Not that he would actually suggest that, right?
Just as I was starting to feel suspicious from all the praise, he spoke again.
"By the way, the clothes you're wearing right now…"
"…?"
"Did you pick them out yourself?"
"Yes, I did."
"Converse Chuck Taylors, Levi's 501, a Lacoste polo shirt…"
As he glanced over my outfit, he continued.
"They're all items that have stood the test of time."
'Stood the test of time,' huh. He has quite a poetic way of speaking.
"Each of those designs has been around for at least fifty years. And they'll easily survive another fifty. At this point, they're practically a part of humanity's heritage."
He was spot on.
By the standards of the 2020s, even the youngest of those items—the Lacoste polo—was around 90 years old.
The Converse Chuck Taylors and Levi's 501 had been around for well over a century, making them classics of classics.
"Thank you for recognizing my fashion sense."
"Well, I do make a living with clothes. I should be able to notice these things."
At that moment, a commotion could be heard outside.
Naturally, the old man reacted sensitively to it.
"It seems more customers have arrived."
"Do you not have any other staff besides yourself?"
"Of course, I do. I have two skilled apprentices, but one of them is currently away."
To be absent at such a busy time?
"Well, what can you do."
"…?"
"There will always be those who expect special treatment, no matter where you go."
The old man gave a small, cryptic smile as he said this.
***
At the same time, at the Duke of Grosvenor's estate.
Tennessee Grosvenor, who was set to enter the Royal Academy this year, didn't need to go all the way to the tailor shop.
The reason was simple.
It was obvious that the seniors would gather early in the morning to make a fuss, all in the name of tradition.
Of course, if the heir of the Duke's family showed up,
"…"
They'd shut their mouths in an instant.
But even so,
'There's no need to get involved in such a bothersome affair.'
Why should he?
After all, when the Grosvenor family calls, the tailor comes to the estate.
"Why didn't Sir Louis come in person?"
A voice came from the end of the hallway.
It was Tennessee's tutor.
He seemed upset and scolded the tailor.
"No matter how busy he is! If he remembers who recommended him for his knighthood…"
"That's enough."
At Tennessee's words, the tutor turned his head in surprise.
"I apologize. I didn't realize you were here, young master…"
"Isn't this the time when students are flooding in? Of course, he must be busy. It's fine."
His voice was so gentle.
Perhaps because of that, the tailor's stiff face softened into a smile of relief.
"But young master, there's a clear protocol of precedence in the country. How dare he neglect the call of a duke's family…"
"I said it's fine."
With a stronger tone than before, the tutor bowed his head.
"After all, it's just clothing."
"…"
"Why get so worked up over something as trivial as clothes, which are no more than outer shells?"
But that response was short-lived.
Tennessee turned to the tailor and spoke.
"Oh, but I suppose there are those who have dedicated their lives to that 'outer shell'…"
"…!"
"I spoke too harshly. Don't take it to heart; no harm was intended."
The tailor wanted to say something in response, but no words came to mind.
In that brief moment when their gazes met, it felt as though Tennessee's snake-like eyes had gripped his neck.
Even though it was clearly just an illusion,
Tremble.
He couldn't control his legs, which were shaking uncontrollably.
"What are you doing? Weren't you busy?"
At Tennessee's words, the tailor's throat bobbed with a large gulp.
***
The fitting was finished in an instant.
While the old man was putting away the chalk, I looked at a framed picture on the wall.
"You've been knighted."
"Yes. It seems that sort of thing happens in life."
Well, it made sense for a tailor chosen by the royal family.
That much was only natural.
As I was mulling over various thoughts, Sir Louis approached me.
"Oh, this is just a light suggestion, so please don't feel pressured."
"Pardon?"
"The outfit you're wearing now is meaningful in itself, but…"
"…?"
"How about getting yourself a nice suit while you're at it? I'm not saying this as a merchant's sales pitch…"
"Sounds good."
"Pardon?"
The Armani suit I bought a few years ago?
Of course, it doesn't fit anymore.
I had already been thinking about getting a new one.
If a suit made by someone who's even been knighted was offered, why wouldn't I want that?
"Then I'll only charge you for the fabric."
"…?"
"You'll grow a lot taller by next year anyway, so since I'm the one suggesting it…"
"No, even if it becomes too small, that's fine. I'll keep it like an art piece."
"…An art piece?"
"Of course. It's a suit made by the greatest tailor of the time, so it's naturally a work of art."