Emily's worries ultimately became reality.
Up through the third day, I managed to get decent sleep while still carving out time for meals and baths.
But starting on the fourth day, I truly felt the squeeze of time.
The clothes showed no sign of completion, patterns still piled up like a mountain, and half the time had already slipped away.
Realizing that at this rate I'd fail to finish either properly, I resorted to the forbidden technique that would make Emily foam at the mouth.
The alchemy of cutting sleep down to two hours a day to gain six extra hours.
Forcing out three more days that way brought me to the seventh day—the day before presenting the finished results to Mother.
"Heh heh... heh heh heh..."
"Young Master..."
I managed to complete the outfit and leave just one pattern unfinished, but the price was losing my mind.
"Woo woo madiya..."
I unrolled a fresh sheet of paper about the size of two sheets, muttering, "Finally, the last one," but what spilled from my lips was baby babble.
It was a total mental meltdown, but surprisingly, this was an improvement after a short nap.
My mind was clear enough, and I could at least produce sounds.
Before that measly thirty-minute snooze, I couldn't even speak—my brain was too foggy to do anything but stare blankly at the paper.
But that was by my standards.
Emily, anxiously watching me slowly unravel from the sidelines, twisted her face in horror at my babbling.
"Young Master, what on earth is that horrific noise?"
"Woo aeoong..."
I covered my mouth with both hands as Emily backed away two steps, then tried speaking again.
It was meant to be "Sorry," but the wind leaking through my lips couldn't convey that, leaving her face pale as a ghost.
"A-Are... you okay? Do you want to sleep more? No, you need to sleep. Please, just sleep."
Emily cautiously approached and placed a hand on my shoulder.
"..."
I wasn't okay, and yes, I wanted more sleep, but I feebly shook my head while jabbing the paper with my pencil.
Once this was done, it was truly the end—I could dive into deep slumber. Splitting it up now felt like a waste.
"You'll sleep after just this one?"
"Dyu..."
I reflexively started to speak, clamped my mouth shut, and nodded frantically instead.
"Don't push yourself too hard. Madam will understand."
"..."
I shook my head again.
We were so close. I had to put the finishing period in place properly.
On a corner of some scrap paper, I scribbled small letters and tapped it, signaling Emily to read.
[A cup of tea.]
"Ah, yes. I'll prepare it right away."
_
After drinking the tea Emily brought, I sent her home around sunset, wrapped everything up by 10 p.m., and collapsed into bed.
I closed my eyes for just a moment.
"Young Master."
"?"
A soft, gentle voice reached me.
A tender palm lightly brushing my forehead.
I'd definitely sent Emily away.
Why had she come back?
Had I asked her for something and forgotten?
If I couldn't remember, it probably wasn't important.
I feebly shook my head and let my mind sink back into the depths.
"Wooong..."
My body felt like it was melting away.
If I slept deeply like this and woke up...
"It's morning, Young Master. Time to get up."
"Uh-eh...?"
The words snapped my foggy mind awake.
Already morning?
Emily wouldn't wake me before at least 7 a.m., which meant I'd slept nine hours?
I'd been out so cold I hadn't even registered it.
Yet my body felt like a lump of iron pressing down—heavy enough that moving was the last thing on my mind.
No way I could get up.
Feeling it was impossible alone, I struggled to move my stiff lips.
"Ten more minutes..."
A withered, dying voice leaked from my barely parted lips, thin as thread.
Even to me, it sounded pitiful.
At this point, Emily would give up and...
"No more. That's the third time you've said that."
She didn't yield.
Emily firmly rejected my desperate plea, removed her hand from my forehead, grabbed the blanket, and yanked it down.
Cool air pricked my skin as the cozy warmth vanished.
"Heuung..."
A punishment for some sin I didn't know I'd committed. I let out a pathetic groan, rolled onto my side, and curled up.
"Time's up. Come on, get up. You've been waiting for today, haven't you, Young Master?"
But Emily showed no sign of backing down, shaking my shoulder with a resolute voice.
"Uh, ek, ugek, geuk..."
My head lolled side to side, weird shrieks escaping.
Standing off like this would just mean no sleep for me and exhaustion for her.
"Yaaawn... Fine..."
I let out a massive yawn and surrendered.
Then forced my limp body upright.
Like a newborn calf, my arms trembled, my head kept drooping, but I somehow managed to sit up and pried open my tightly shut eyelids.
"...?"
Something's wrong.
I felt the muscles around my eyelids move, but everything was still pitch black.
It was morning—why so dark?
I whipped my head around frantically, searching for Emily.
"Emily, what do I do? I can't see... Must be some illness."
"Young Master... You have to open your eyes."
"I did!"
"Your eyes are swollen like crucian carp lips right now."
"Eh?"
What was she talking about?
I raised my trembling hand to my face.
Puffy eyelids and dried tears crusting my lids shut.
I strained to open them, but they only twitched—no give.
"Emily, my eyes won't open... What now?"
"Haa—"
Emily's sigh, the splash of water, then pattering droplets.
Silence followed, then something cold and wet pressed to my eyes.
"Ack, cold!"
I flinched, shoulders hunching, head jerking back—but Emily's hand clamped my shoulder, holding me firm.
"It's a handkerchief, just bear it a little. Your eyes are all puffy from lack of sleep."
"Okay..."
The damp cloth slid along my lashes.
The coolness and moisture soothed the swollen lids, easing the discomfort.
"How's that? Better?"
"Yeah."
The swelling still hindered opening fully, but the dry tightness softened, letting me squint—just barely.
Emily sat on the bed's edge, holding the cloth, a blurry figure.
Was this how the rice-making buddy from that monster-hunting manga saw the world?
I needed to fix this swelling fast or I'd be in trouble.
"Emily."
"Yes, Young Master."
"Got any ice?"
"I'll get some right away."
"Thanks."
_
Two hours of icing from the kitchen—skipping breakfast—to reduce the puffiness.
"I thought I'd be blind forever."
"You're exaggerating."
"Exaggerating? I really thought I had some disease. Scared me."
I finally tamed the carp-lip swelling enough to open my eyes like a human.
Clear, sharp vision at 180 degrees.
Combined with my refreshed mind, the visual clarity was unreal.
"What time is it?"
"9:20 a.m."
Mother said tea time at 10...
"Not much time left."
"Yes, you need to hurry. Madam said, 'If you're not here by 10, I'm leaving.'"
"Mother's in the garden?"
"Yes, having tea there."
"Gotta rush."
Not critically short, but no buffer either.
Arriving exactly at 10 would earn a subtle glare, so aim for 10 minutes early.
Still groggy, I shed yesterday's unremoved outer clothes and rummaged for the outfit I'd prepared.
"Emily, where are the clothes?"
"I put them in the basket ahead of time."
"Cool. You don't need to help me change—just roll up the patterns I organized on the desk and add them to the basket?"
"Yes, six sheets total?"
"Yeah, thanks."
_
Mother sipped her tea gracefully, then gave her verdict on the results.
"Well done. You pass."
"!"
Succinct, no frills.
Her face had been stern the whole time she checked the patterns—I'd been brainstorming persuasion tactics. Passing outright caught me off guard.
Speechless, my lips flapped uselessly. Mother set down her cup, met my eyes, and explained.
"I wanted to test your determination and eye this time—how serious you are about clothes, and how well you grasp a client's needs."
"Yes."
"And William, you followed my requests perfectly. Completing the patterns on time is impressive, and tweaking a standard knight's tailcoat instead of something flashy or weird suits perfectly. The colors and design match Emily's uniform too."
Mother pulled the tailcoat from the basket and held it up.
"Even basted like this, producing something decent in a week surprised me. Only Sir Daniel among the family tailors could manage it. And you fixed the maid uniform well too. Did I miss anything so far?"
"No, it's like you read my mind."
"Hee hee, such dramatics."
She tucked the tailcoat back, picked up her cup, and smiled softly.
"We'll visit him tomorrow. You've earned a rest today."
"Thank you."
"Now both of you, go do your duties."
"Yes."
Mother nudged the basket toward me—a dismissal.
We bowed to her, grabbed the basket, and left the garden.