Hello. My name was Johnson, and I ran a used clothing store in Village Five.
My age? I had already passed my hundredth year, though I didn't recall the specifics. My memory was cluttered enough as it was with my customers and the garments I sold. When I tried to think back to my earliest regulars, I realized it had actually been over two hundred years. Heh. Being a demon, I never paid much mind to the passage of time.
Now then, allow me to ask: are you familiar with the clothing situation of the general public?
For the average person, clothing meant secondhand clothing. When the rags they were wearing finally fell apart, they sought out a new set of used rags. That was simply how it went. Brand-new clothes were an extreme rarity; to a commoner, "new clothes" were just used clothes they hadn't worn before. Furthermore, most people owned only two or three outfits. They didn't rotate them for style, either; they simply layered them on top of one another to ward off the seasonal chill.
Until a few years ago, that was the standard everywhere in the world.
However, Village Five was different. Here, the average resident owned about ten outfits. Rather than layering them, they changed their attire to suit the season—summer clothes for the heat, winter clothes for the cold. They even swapped outfits based on their daily mood. Because of this, the streets were filled with vibrant color, and my shop was always overflowing with people.
This was likely a result of the exceptional public order in Village Five. Clothes were a form of property. If there was a high risk of theft, most people wouldn't dream of owning more than they could carry. But when that danger vanished, the desire to own more naturally took root.
Of course, the fact that the residents had deep enough pockets to afford new things was another factor. People here had money. There was endless work for anyone seeking it, and on top of that, the taxes were incredibly low—so low that the residents actually became anxious wondering if the village could sustain itself.
I once had the opportunity to speak with the Acting Village Head and eventually succeeded in asking her the reason behind such low taxation. She told me that they were "growing" the residents.
She explained that what a village or town truly needed were residents who would consistently pay their taxes. To achieve that, the people needed economic breathing room and a tangible sense of the benefits that came with paying into the system—a reason to want to keep living there. Thus, the administration must not squeeze the residents dry.
By keeping taxes low and providing entertainment while maintaining safety, people would naturally gather. As the population grew, the total tax revenue increased, ensuring the government remained functional. Entertainment gave the residents joy while simultaneously encouraging them to spend money, which kept the economy in motion. And as the economy circulated, the demand for goods rose, creating even more jobs. Public order, of course, was always a welcome bonus.
"The administration’s job is to spend the collected taxes. One must not hoard them. Money is meant to be in motion," the Acting Village Head had said.
I found myself in agreement, though the secretary standing beside her did chime in to remind her that "saving for emergencies is also the administration's job."
Regardless, I understood her philosophy: to grow the residents by making them wealthy. I also learned that the Village Head shared this vision—or rather, the Acting Village Head was merely executing the Village Head's own ideas. Knowing that, I felt I could conduct my business with true peace of mind.
To a resident, used clothing was an accessible luxury. Unlike food, it didn't vanish once consumed; it could be enjoyed time and again. In my shop, I didn't simply sell the clothes as-is. I adjusted sizes for each customer and added unique embroidery to give the garments a new personality. It was something any household could do themselves, but by providing professional service, I aimed to differentiate myself from the competition. In the used clothing trade, the connection with the customer was everything.
One day, I received a summons from the Acting Village Head. It turned out she wanted to purchase a massive quantity of clothes and fabric. She wasn't looking to haggle me down, either; she offered a fair price, which was a blessing for the shop, but there was one issue.
"Is there a problem?" she asked.
I explained that if I sold her the requested amount, my entire inventory would be wiped out.
"Ah, I have no intention of interfering with your livelihood," she replied graciously. "Just sell us whatever amount you can spare."
She was a truly considerate leader. I agreed to sell what I could. However, since she requested a certain level of quality, the total cost for such a bulk order was quite steep. I asked if she preferred to pay in installments.
"We have the funds. We'll pay in a lump sum," she said. "Though, if you'd prefer payment in kind, that’s also an option."
I laughed and told her that, since I'd heard her thoughts on keeping money in motion, I would take the cash... but then I stopped. I told myself to stay calm and think.
I had met the Village Head once before by chance while visiting the Acting Village Head's mansion. At first, I had mistaken him for an unremarkable young man, but I quickly realized my error. The clothes he wore were made of Demon Spider silk. A man who treated such an ultra-luxury material as everyday wear could not possibly be unremarkable. Furthermore, he was the only person to whom the Acting Village Head—an intimidating woman in her own right—bowed her head. He was not someone a man of my station could afford to underestimate.
The Village Head’s clothes were tailored to fit him perfectly. Demon Spider silk could only be harvested from the creatures themselves, which were feared as living disasters. Obtaining their thread was a legendary feat. Most existing Demon Spider silk garments were ancient relics that had been painstakingly resized. I presumed the Village Head’s clothes were the same.
And if they had been adjusted, that meant there was a high probability of offcuts!
It would have been too rude to ask for his clothes, but surely I could ask for the scraps? Even a tiny piece of Demon Spider silk was a holy grail to someone in my profession. I could die happy knowing I owned a piece, and I would be able to brag about it to my sons for the rest of my days.
I wanted those offcuts. I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask, even if I was rejected. So, I took the leap.
He turned me down. Naturally.
"I don't have any offcuts," he said. "I do have cloth, though..."
I froze. "Pardon?"
"Is the cloth itself alright? How much do you need?"
"Eh?"
"For now, I suppose enough for one outfit should suffice. I'll have it prepared for you immediately."
I was speechless.
"I suppose it’s a bit strange to pay for fabric and used clothes with more fabric," he added with a chuckle.
And just like that, my shop came into possession of a bolt of cloth spun from Demon Spider silk. An entire outfit's worth. It was a treasure whose value far exceeded the total of every transaction I had ever made in my entire life. He even lent me a magic-infused knife, as normal blades couldn't even scratch the surface of the weave.
I might have been a used clothing merchant, but I was also a tailor. To be blunt, the legendary designer Milton Hey, who was the talk of the fashion world, was me. I had started selling my original creations under the guise of used clothing, and the quality had sparked rumors. I had a great deal of confidence in my craft.
Yet, I couldn't bring myself to touch the cloth. It wasn't that I feared a mistake; I simply couldn't decide who the clothes should be for. Given the astronomical value of the material, the potential wearer had to be someone extraordinary.
The Village Head was my first thought. It would be an honor to dress him. But he already owned Demon Spider silk clothes. Would I be able to stand the comparison? No. I was confident, but I didn't like to compete. If I enjoyed the rivalry, Milton Hey would be even more famous than he already was.
Next, I considered the Acting Village Head. However, her clothes were made of magic—garments manifested from her own magic power. Since she wore them habitually, would she even care for something I made?
What about clothes for myself? No, that would be a criminal waste. My children were dear to me, but they were adults now. My grandchildren were numerous, and I couldn't possibly pick just one.
I agonized over the decision for days. Then...
"It is the Acting Village Head-kon!"
I saw her wearing a "cute" outfit made of Demon Spider silk. At that moment, I was struck by inspiration. It was as if a new door had opened before me.
I would make the outfit for the Acting Village Head. I had made up my mind. Yes, those "cute clothes" she was currently wearing would be my rivals, but I didn't care. I wanted to give form to my vision and see her wear it. I didn't even care about the profit.
I prepared to cut the cloth, then forced myself to settle down. First, I needed to ask for her permission to take her measurements.
I asked. She refused. As expected.
That left only one option: I had to measure her by eye. I began placing objects around the Acting Village Head to serve as reference points, calculating the dimensions of her body by the relative difference between her and the items.
I could do it. If anyone could, it was me.
Just you wait, Acting Village Head. I would prepare a new masterpiece for her. I was certain she would love it. Heh heh heh.
Yoko: "I am gathering cloth and used clothes for the sake of your tribes. I’ll need you to provide some of your silk in exchange." Zabuton's Children: "With pleasure!" Cute Yoko: "Lately, I've noticed a lot of square and net-like objects being placed near me, kon..."