The middle-aged woman's hand trembled slightly as she adjusted her glasses. She deliberately lowered the corners of her eyes, as if trying to conceal her emotions—but it was no use. Her disguise, much like Orfevre's eccentric behavior, was instantly seen through by Dream Weaver's sharp intuition.
"Orfevre's never brought anyone else here herself, has she? Don't you want to talk with someone like me?"
"I'm merely a retainer in Miss Orfevre's service. There's nothing I can really—"
"Is that all someone who watched her grow up has to say? No wonder Orfevre turned out the way she did."
Dream Weaver saw the shock and disbelief flash in the woman's eyes and knew immediately that her guess had hit home.
From their earlier interaction, it was clear the relationship between this woman and Orfevre wasn't just professional. Dream Weaver had casually tossed out a possibility to gauge her reaction—never expecting to strike gold on the first try.
The middle-aged woman glanced up at Dream Weaver, then over at Orfevre, who was lounging in the back flipping idly through a fashion magazine. After a moment of silence, she seemed to reach a decision.
"Miss Orfevre, I'll take this guest to the dressing room to look at the garments."
Orfevre didn't respond, merely waving a hand in vague permission.
The woman bowed slightly in Orfevre's direction before leading Dream Weaver up to the second floor. Unlike a typical boutique's fitting area, this dressing room occupied the entire level.
Dream Weaver gazed in mild astonishment at the rows upon rows of wardrobes lining both sides of the room. "A dressing room like this… Do you not serve other clients?"
"To the average customer, this is simply a high-end tailor shop. All measurements and consultations take place on the first floor. This level is exclusively for Miss Orfevre's use."
"So she's into this, huh?"
Dream Weaver scanned the room and noticed the clothing was arranged in order from childhood to the present. It seemed Orfevre had been coming here since she was very young.
"Perhaps Miss Orfevre inherited her parents' artistic sensibility. She's always had a particular love for coordinating outfits and accessories. Originally, she planned to visit a jewelry exhibit nearby before coming here today."
Dream Weaver nodded. So that explained why she'd run into Orfevre on the street—she must have been on her way to that exhibit.
Who would have thought that Orfevre, who always played the role of the Golden Tyrant in the public eye, had such an ordinary hobby?
"Doesn't quite match the image I had of Orfevre," Dream Weaver murmured to herself.
She'd always thought Orfevre was a bit like T.M. Opera O—that those who styled themselves as monarchs would naturally gravitate toward unusual interests, like opera or other refined pursuits.
But Orfevre's hobby was surprisingly normal. Mixing and matching clothes and accessories was something any ordinary girl might enjoy—though on a scale a hundred times more lavish.
Hearing Dream Weaver's remark, the woman gave a bitter smile. "Miss Orfevre wasn't always like she is now."
Seeing Dream Weaver's curious look, she decided to continue. Now that she'd started, she might as well explain—what Orfevre was like as a child, and how everything changed after her talent was recognized.
Her voice echoed softly in the spacious dressing room, weaving a story that allowed Dream Weaver to watch Orfevre's journey from childhood to the present day from a bystander's perspective.
When the tale was done, Dream Weaver rested her chin in her hand, lost in thought.
The version she'd just heard and the Orfevre that Chizuru Haibara knew seemed like two completely different people. One was a horse girl who was cold to outsiders but sweet and clingy with those close to her; the other was the Orfevre who crushed the dreams of every Uma Musume in her path.
One felt like a horse girl you might meet anywhere; the other was practically the protagonist of a legend.
Somehow, Dream Weaver was reminded of what Tamamo Cross had once said to her:
"Hard to believe someone like her and me would be praised as part of the 'Miracle Generation,' huh?"
The expectations of the crowd…
Those words felt like a thread connecting everything, pulling Dream Weaver back to all the things she'd been saying during her recent interviews and promotional shoots.
In front of reporters, she kept repeating the same lines—about revitalizing Kasamatsu, bringing regional racing back into the spotlight, and so on.
Had she been influenced?
No, Dream Weaver shook her head. The words she spoke were what she genuinely wanted. After spending nearly half a year at Kasamatsu Tracen, she truly wished for things to improve there—so that desperate horse girls like Sumire Nanno would never have to suffer again.
"I said those things to live up to others' expectations."
Lost in her thoughts, Dream Weaver hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud.
But it was that very sentence that made everything about Orfevre click into place.
"I see… Oguri Cap and Tamamo Cross were later called the Miracle Generation, but by then they were already mature. They knew exactly what they were fighting for when they stepped onto the track.
"But Orfevre was different. She's been carrying these expectations since her talent was first discovered—the hope to break the curse, the future of horse racing, the glory of the Orfevre name. She grew up bearing all of that.
"For someone like her, the expectations of the crowd are a form of love. And as an Uma Musume carrying such a heavy burden of love, she had no choice but to live up to those expectations.
"Everyone wanted to see a Golden Tyrant who dominated her era. Only that kind of ferocity, that kind of majesty, could be worthy of the Orfevre who carried so many hopes.
"So she made herself become that Golden Tyrant."
"Until she could no longer tell herself apart from the tyrant she played… and Orfevre became Orfevre."
The woman beside her stared, utterly stunned. As part of the story, she lacked Dream Weaver's multifaceted perspective.
She wasn't a horse girl, so she couldn't understand what it felt like to be on the track. She'd never carried such heavy expectations, so she didn't know what it took to answer them.
Even though she'd watched Orfevre grow up, as a self-proclaimed retainer, she could never truly understand her.
But Dream Weaver was different. Unlike those who admired Orfevre, worshipped her, expected greatness from her, or feared her—unlike other horse girls whose dreams she shattered—
Dream Weaver wasn't a spectator, a servant, or a victim. She was a rival, someone who could stand on the same stage as the Golden Tyrant.
"Because I'm her competitor—the only one aside from family who can face her as an equal.
"That's why she treats me differently."
Strip away the shell of the Golden Tyrant, and Orfevre was just a lonely child starving for love.
--+--
T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 3 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
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