Chapter 141 – The Day the City Became a Runway

  The news spread like wildfire.

  Silver Ward had claimed her father.

  Three of them.

  Tomas from the most famous bakery in town.

  Corvix, owner of the largest boutique in the frontier.

  Suniel, the finest healer the city could boast.

  Three fathers. One daughter.

  Aldric, Bram, and Nyssa rushed to find Seraphine the moment the rumor reached them.

  “Is it true?” Aldric demanded.

  Seraphine only stared at them.

  Then—

  “Hahaha… I’ve gained a band of ferocious fathers-in-law… except for Daddy, everyone is terrifying… AAAAA—!”

  She broke into hysterical laughter.

  “…Yep. She’s lost it,” Nyssa said sympathetically.

  Aldric shook Seraphine by the shoulders. Bram began reciting a prayer under his breath.

  It did not help.

  Life, however, continued—only slightly more chaotic.

  Some mornings, Ivaline would greet her Daddy, Papa, and Father in order.

  Some days, the order changed.

  It depended on the “Dad Council" negotiations.

  She occasionally shared breakfast or lunch with them. If Seraphine was free, she tagged along, looking both proud and mildly traumatized.

  They tried to give Ivaline everything.

  Money.

  Free food.

  Exclusive knowledge.

  She refused it all and paid a fair price every time.

  “I cannot take advantage of my parents.”

  That single sentence silenced three powerful men at once.

  But if one truly knew Corvix—

  They would understand that such an obstacle was merely… a design challenge.

  Adventurer Guild – Reception Desk

  “Ivaline,” Mireya called. “You’ve been assigned a specific quest. The commissioner requested you personally.”

  Ivaline blinked. “You can request a specific adventurer?”

  “Famous ones, yes. Patrons often do this.” Mireya smiled knowingly. “And you’ve become rather… famous.”

  “Can I decline?”

  “Of course. The choice lies with the adventurer—unless the request comes from nobility, royalty, or guild superiors. Refusing those carries consequences.”

  Mireya handed her the quest note.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The commissioner’s name read:

  Corvix.

  “Papa?”

  Details undisclosed. Meeting required at his boutique.

  ‘Should I go, Chronicle?’

  ‘He is your papa. He will not harm you.’

  ‘Then I will accept.’

  The seal was stamped.

  Today, she would fulfill her papa’s request.

  Like a good daughter.

  Corvix Boutique

  A dress stood on a mannequin.

  The dress is layered silk with iridescent fabric that shifts between sapphire blue, emerald green, ruby red, and gold depending on the light. Off-shoulder neckline with intricate filigree embroidery resembling jewelry patterns. Crystal accents along the bodice and waist, subtle gemstone inlays sewn into the fabric. Flowing skirt with translucent outer layer that glimmers softly., while the skirt flowed in gentle folds that seemed to ripple with every imagined step.

  It was elegant.

  It was expensive.

  It was absolutely designed for Ivaline.

  Corvix nodded in satisfaction.

  Behind him, Nasha maintained a stiff smile.

  Gosh. This man is weaponizing fatherly love.

  She glanced at Ivaline.

  “You refuse free money,” Corvix said calmly. “But if I pay you properly for work, you won’t decline. Correct?”

  “Of course, Papa. What is the content of my work?”

  He gestured toward the dress.

  “Simple. Wear it. Walk around town. Visit shops. I’ll provide spending funds. If you prefer, sit outside my boutique, sip tea, and enjoy snacks.”

  “…..?”

  Ivaline blinked.

  “That is… work?”

  She reached out mentally.

  ‘Chronicle.’

  ‘I anticipated this question.’

  ‘Explain.’

  ‘By wearing his dress around town, you become a moving promotion. People will want the same color. The same design. The same presence. They will come here to order. Even sitting in front of the shop is effective—your body becomes the display.’

  ‘…And visiting other shops?’

  ‘Exposure to different customer bases. Free meals are still profit in his calculations.’

  “…I see.”

  She accepted.

  Corvix’s employees helped her change.

  Nasha quietly wiped away tears.

  This is wholesome. This is ridiculous. This is my fault.

  Yes.

  She suggested the strategy.

  Again.

  ‘Sorry, Ivaline.’

  The Morning Walk

  When Ivaline stepped into the street—

  The town froze.

  Men stopped mid-step. Women paused mid-sentence. Shopkeepers forgot to blink.

  A cool, ethereal beauty walked past them, a vibrant fabric gliding like liquid light. The dress caught the sun, scattering soft glimmers with each movement. The fitted bodice emphasized her graceful posture, while the flowing skirt gave her an almost untouchable presence—like a noble lady who had wandered out of a painting.

  Or a goddess testing mortal streets.

  Whispers followed her.

  She entered a tea shop.

  Free dessert.

  She visited an accessory store.

  Heavy discount.

  Another boutique.

  Complimentary ribbon set.

  No one could quite explain why.

  They simply felt compelled.

  And then—

  She entered Tomas’ Bakery.

  “Ivaline! What is that dress?!”

  “Papa asked me to walk around town to promote his shop.”

  “That basta—”

  He inhaled sharply.

  “—WHAT A CLEVER MOVE!”

  He clenched his fist in frustration.

  “…If I prepare a costume for you and ask you to promote my bakery?”

  “I would gladly promote your shop, Daddy.”

  Tomas stormed out immediately.

  Ivaline calmly locked the shop and hid the key where Tomas had once shown her.

  Then she headed to the guild.

  Adventurer Guild – Main Hall

  The moment she entered—

  Silence.

  Swords froze mid-polish. Mugs hovered mid-air.

  Ivaline didn’t notice.

  She walked straight to the clinic and shut the door.

  Three seconds later—

  The guild exploded into uproar.

  Topic?

  Silver Ward. New costume.

  Inside, Dr. Suniel stared at her.

  He went quiet.

  His mind raced.

  “You wouldn’t mind wearing my design as well, correct?”

  “Of course, Father.”

  “Good. Bubble, watch the clinic.”

  “…Uh. Alright?”

  She nods nervously.

  And he stormed out too.

  Noon – Corvix Boutique

  Ivaline returned and sat elegantly at the tea set Corvix had prepared outside.

  Tea. Porcelain cup. Perfect posture.

  Noble and wealthy ladies passing by slowed.

  Stopped.

  Entered.

  One by one.

  By evening, Corvix handed her a heavy pouch of coins and stamped the quest as fulfilled.

  “You may keep the dress. If you wish to work again—same content, same payment.”

  She nodded.

  Back home—

  Seraphine saw her.

  And froze.

  “This is… bliss… A blessing from Mother Earth… An angel descending—”

  “I am not an angel. I am your husband.”

  Seraphine shot upright, hugged her, and kissed her.

  That night—

  Her embrace was tighter than ever.

  Somewhere in the city, three fathers were already sketching designs and drafting strategies.

  The commercial war had only just begun.

  Ivaline in Corvix Promotion costume.

  Author: This's overkilled Corvix...