Driving his new truck, Darien grinned.
"Alright, time to start shopping!"
Most of the stuff in the space had already been used or handed over to Celeste. His first priority? Restock it.
But as he thought about it, something hit him—his storage space… felt bigger.
While waiting at the traffic light, he checked again.
"No way… this thing actually grew!"
Before, the cube had sides of just one meter—barely enough to store anything.
Now? Two meters on each side—double in every dimension. Plenty of room.
Darien, good with numbers, did a quick mental check: one cubic meter had grown to eight. Eightfold increase.
A mix of surprise and excitement hit him.
Time to stock up.
He hit Walmart first, piling two carts high with daily essentials—non-perishables, condiments, a coffee maker, cookware, even a gas stove. Grabbed a bit of everything he could think of.
Next, he went by FKC, loaded up more food, ignored the stares of passersby, and lugged it all back to the truck.
Once inside, everything disappeared into his storage—no worries about spoilage.
Darien wanted fabric too, thinking ahead to Brindlemark's clothing trade.
Local shops only had finished garments, so he pulled up Yelp and searched for suppliers.
Found one nearby, he shot a message:
"Hey, need a batch of quality fabrics. Price isn't an issue."
The rep replied almost instantly:
"Got it. Any specifics? I'll pull some options for you to check."
They sent a bunch of photos, but Darien couldn't tell quality from pictures alone. He type back:
"Hey, you're in New York, right? Can this be delivered today?"
"Normally we ship in batches, even locally—"
"I'll cover the extra cost."
"Alright, we can make that happen."
After sorting the details, Darien drove through the hustle of Manhattan streets and pulled up to a small, discreet tailoring shop tucked between high-rises.
Eliana had recommended it, saying the owner was a former classmate and extremely skilled.
The place barely looked like a shop, hidden in an old residential block. Darien raised an eyebrow—any business surviving here had to know their craft.
He found the number—825—and knocked.
Knock, knock, knock.
A pause.
Creeeak…
The wooden door swung open just a crack, letting out a faint, musty smell.
A small head peeked out—a girl, maybe thirteen or fourteen, hair tied in a neat bun, wide eyes, pale but striking face, a little fragile-looking.
"Who're you?" she asked, wary.
Darien stepped back slightly. "Name's Darien. I'm here to see Ms. Verity about some custom clothing."
She frowned, clearly not used to visitors placing orders. After a pause, she said,
"Wait here."
"Sure."
The door clicked shut, and a few minutes later, slow, measured footsteps echoed inside. Crisp, confident—definitely an adult.
Creeeak…
The door swung fully open. First, her legs appeared—long, fair, stepping lightly in stiletto heels. She wore a simple, elegant yellow dress that hugged her figure.
As she stepped into the light, Darien saw a refined, delicate face, almost like a portrait from another era.
"Hi, I'm Darien," he said, smiling politely.
"I'm Verity. Eliana said you'd be coming. Come on in."
Darien followed quietly, taking in the room. The main hall was filled with unusual garments—he couldn't judge the quality, but they screamed craftsmanship.
The young girl from before appeared with two cups of tea.
"Thanks," Darien said, accepting one.
"You do custom work, right? Any style?" he asked.
"Yes," Verity replied, taking a sip. "What are you looking for?"
Darien leaned back, knowing real pros always ask questions.
"One thing—I'll pay."
Verity raised an eyebrow but nodded.
"I need a few outfits tailored. Classic, noble look with a modern edge—comfortable, easy to move in. And a few women's outfits too, same style. Figure's about 172 cm, and add matching undergarments."
Verity gave him a curious look.
"For costumes?"
"Kind of—but practical too. Wearable every day."
Verity nodded. Eccentric requests weren't new to her.
"Alright. Let's start with your measurements."
She signaled, and the girl handed over the tape.
Darien stood as Verity moved around him, taking notes while the girl recorded.
Surprisingly, it was kind of fun—his first tailored suit.
Still, the quiet made things a little awkward. Darien tried to fill the space.
"Nice spot for a shop—light through the window, birds outside, flowers—"
"And cheap," Verity cut in.
"Sorry?"
"Nothing."
Darien shrugged, his idealized image of this "mysterious" shop owner cracking a bit.
After finishing the measurements, Verity looked up.
"Your suit will be fine. As for the lady's clothes—since I didn't measure her personally, they might not fit perfectly. She really should come by."
"She's got a good figure. It'll work."
There was no way Celeste could make it here. Worst case, he'd bring the outfit back later for adjustments.
"Oh, and how long does custom work usually take?"
"Fifteen to twenty days."
Darien's eyes widened. "That long?"
He didn't want to wait. Looking at Verity, he added, "I'll pay extra."
"How much?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I need it by the day after tomorrow. Name your price."
Verity did a quick mental calculation. "Three… no, double."
"Deal."
Darien didn't hesitate. Verity went quiet, surprised at how fast he'd agreed.
---
🔍 Did you know?
- Before standardized sizes, tailors measured each client carefully to create perfectly fitted clothing—using simple tools like tapes, cords, or strings. Every garment was made to the individual's body!
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