Lucian sighed for a moment, then he stepped closer to the closet in the room and slowly opened the door.
Rows of hanging clothes came into view. He raised his eyebrows when he saw them—almost all of them were white shirts, with the only difference being the lace motifs on them.
He was silent for a moment as he stared at the collection of clothes.
"Oh yes..." he said in a slightly loud tone. He deliberately diverted Ivan's mind from whoever was out there somewhere now.
"Usually... What am I doing now?" he continued, his gaze fixed on the wardrobe as if trying to evoke memories of a past that wasn't his.
"Eh...?" Ivan frowned, then snapped out of his daydream.
"Is that so?" His answer was short as his hand touched one of the shirts with striking lace on the chest. With a flat expression, he pulled it slightly from the hanger, examining it with narrowed eyes.
"Even though my daily activities are monotonous, that doesn't mean my clothes have to be the same, right?" He snorted for a moment, then pointed the hanger at Ivan.
"What the hell is this? Who prepared these clothes? The taste is too monotonous." He then looked at the shirt while raising one eyebrow.
Ivan gasped for a moment. "I'm sorry if I'm being presumptuous, Young Master." He lowered his head slightly and closed his eyes, one hand in front of his chest and the other behind his back, though he hesitantly continued. "You were the one who asked me to prepare clothes like these."
Lucian instantly froze in place. For a moment, the atmosphere in the room fell silent. He then closed his eyes, his brow twitching slightly as he tried to hide his embarrassment.
He turned around, staring blankly at the wall as he muttered, "Really...?"
Casually, he raised his hand and scratched the back of his ear. "Oh my gosh, that's right. I feel like I really want to go back in time and smack myself over the head for that."
Ivan's eyes widened when he saw this. He cleared his throat slightly, wanting to laugh at his Young Master's behavior, but he struggled to hold it back. His shoulders shook slightly, making it painfully obvious how hard he was trying not to laugh.
"Oh my gosh, this really gives me déjà vu. Young Master is really like a combination of Madam and Great Master," he muttered to himself, then smiled as if this were a memory he truly didn't want to forget.
He then opened his eyes again. "Are you... do you want me to help you choose another outfit, Young Master?" he asked in a voice as calm as possible, though the corners of his lips had already begun to lift.
Lucian turned his head, then looked sharply at Ivan. His eyes seemed to say, You don't even need to smile right now.
Ivan immediately straightened up, bowing his head slightly. "I really appreciate every choice of style made by the Young Master. There's nothing wrong with your previous taste. Not at all."
"... You sound incongruous," Lucian muttered flatly.
He looked at Ivan again. The butler's shoulders continued to shake subtly; it was very clear that he was holding back a laugh that could burst out at any moment.
Lucian snorted for a moment before returning to his seat. He crossed his legs, resting his head against his palm.
"Already, I know you're holding back your laughter." He raised his eyebrows, then closed his eyes and raised his palm, moving it back and forth in a dismissive manner.
"Now please call the designer who used to make clothes for me."
Ivan was stunned for a moment. "Really now, Young Master?"
Lucian narrowed his eyes, his voice calm but full of warning. "Ivan, do you think I need to repeat my words?"
Silence fell between them for a few seconds. Then Ivan lowered his head slightly, one hand resting in front of his chest.
"It's well understood, Young Master," he answered firmly, then turned around and walked toward the door. However, before he actually left, Lucian caught sight of a small smile that Ivan failed to hide.
Lucian just shook his head softly as he watched Ivan's back quickly disappear behind the door, as if afraid that if he stayed one second longer, his laughter would actually explode.
"At least if you don't care about your face, watch your clothes, Lucian," he muttered to himself, then looked toward the blue sky visible through the glass window. "With the noble status and wealth you possess, is it really so hard to add a little variety?"
The wind then came in through the ventilation of the glass window, making the strands of his hair move slightly. The atmosphere was silent for a moment, with only the sound of leaves rustling in the wind and the soft ticking of the wall clock filling the air.
A few minutes passed before finally, a few footsteps were heard from outside. The door opened slowly, and Ivan reappeared, this time in a more upright posture than before, followed by a man dressed in a neat light brown suit with a small black ribbon around his neck.
"Young Master, I've brought him," Ivan said, slightly out of breath after his quick steps down the hallway.
"Oh?" Lucian turned his head slightly, his eyebrows raised.
The designer Ivan had brought immediately stepped inside, his facial expression full of excitement. "Oh my gosh, I was really surprised when the butler contacted me," he said while tidying his slightly messy hair. "This time, what kind of white shirt do you want? Lace motifs at the end of the collar? Or maybe some additional gold embroidery like last time?"
But when the designer's gaze finally fell fully on Lucian, his body stiffened and his face froze.
"OH MY GOD, BUTLER!" he exclaimed in shock, almost stumbling over his own steps. "Who is this Master?! I heard Young Master Lucian call me—where is he now?!"
Ivan, who was standing behind him, placed a hand on the designer's shoulder and pointed toward Lucian. "Mr. Arden, the one standing in front of you is him."
Silence fell between them for a moment.
"Ei, don't lie," the designer chuckled awkwardly, his eyes still scrutinizing Lucian's face in confusion. "My birthday is still too early for you to prepare a surprise of this magnitude."
Lucian simply crossed his arms over his chest, his expression flat, then raised his eyebrows slightly. "What Ivan said is true. I am Lucian."
The designer leaned over, looking Lucian up and down. His eyes narrowed as if investigating the man in front of him, but the longer he looked, the more undeniable the shock on his face became.
"Hmm, judging from your height, it looks like you're indeed Young Master Lucian." The designer squinted, then nodded softly. "I'm sorry, I really didn't recognize you at first—you usually wear a mask, don't you?"
Lucian, who was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, only raised his eyebrows.
The designer was silent for a moment, then looked back at Lucian once more before suddenly realizing something.
"Wait... mask...?"
He took a step back, his eyes widening as if he had just realized a fatal mistake.
"OH MY GOD, YOUNG MASTER LUCIAN...!!" he shouted, then hurriedly lowered his head, his eyes fixed on the floor. His shoulders shook slightly.
"Sorry for my rudeness! I really didn't mean it that way! My mouth sometimes moves faster than my brain. That was disrespectful! Forgive me, Young Master."
Ivan, who was standing behind him, turned his face away for a moment. He held back his laughter once more, while Lucian could only sigh before massaging his temples tiredly.
"Why did he react like this as well?" he muttered in his mind.
"Come on, now lift your head." Lucian leaned back against the chair, then casually continued, "From now on, I don't like talking to people who won't look directly at my face."
The designer was still keeping his head lowered, his body trembling slightly. "No, how dare I behave that way toward you?" His voice sounded bitter.
Lucian snorted for a moment, then glanced at Ivan. "Is this a natural reaction when people see my face?"
"You seem to know the answer yourself, Young Master," Ivan said in a half-joking but still polite tone.
Lucian nodded slowly, then raised his hand and combed his hair back. "If you can't look at me while talking, how can you design clothes that fit me?"
The designer finally stood up, although his movements were still awkward. He straightened his body, his hands held in front of his stomach as if ready to catch an object that might be thrown at him.
"You're not going to throw a pillow at me or anything like that, are you?" he asked in a cautious voice, almost in a whisper.
Lucian raised one eyebrow, then replied lazily, "I called you here not to make you my throwing target."
The atmosphere fell silent for a moment. The designer's eyes suddenly widened as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He placed one hand over his chest and then smiled again as before.
"Oh my gosh, I'm honored to receive your kindness," he said appreciatively.
He opened the small notebook he always carried with him and prepared a pencil in his hand. "Alright, Young Master Lucian. How many white shirts do you need this time?" His voice was professional again, although his eyes still flickered with disbelief at Lucian's current face.
"I've had too many clothes like that," Lucian said as he crossed his legs and leaned back elegantly in the chair. He raised one hand, pointing toward the open closet that revealed a pile of almost identical outfits. "Did you bring a catalog or something like that?"
"Of course, Young Master," he finally said, stuttering slightly before quickly rummaging through his large bag.
He took out several papers containing sketches of men's clothing designs. Then, he slowly walked over to hand the papers to the man in front of him.
Swiftly, Lucian took the sketch papers. His eyes swept through several kinds of men's clothing designs drawn on them. Long suits with side cuts, layered coats with silver ornaments, and some coats that looked practical yet elegant.
But his eyes stopped for a moment when he saw a small inscription in the bottom right corner of one of the pages.
"Elarisse's House?" he muttered softly, his eyebrows raised slightly. The writing wasn't very flashy, just a small print next to the designer's signature. But it was enough to catch his attention.