Lucia and the Loom: Weaving Her Way to Happiness Volume 1 (eBook)

Hisaya Amagishi (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2023
250 Seiten
Publishdrive (Verlag)
978-1-7183-8136-0 (ISBN)

Infos

Green hair and blue eyes, as subdued and boring as can be... That's what Lucia always thought of herself, until a chance encounter in her childhood gave her the confidence to wear the pretty dresses and accessories she so admires, no matter what anyone else may say about her.

Now that she's grown and working for her family's factory, Lucia dreams of running her own atelier. Little does she know her ambition is about to get a jump start when her friend Dahlia comes by looking for someone to produce a specialized clothing item. Next thing she knows, Lucia is suddenly the head manager of the newly established Magical Garment Factory! Her unexpected appointment to this large role lands her in the crosshairs of others' jealousy, but the target on her back is but a bump in the road to realizing her dream! In addition to her duties, Lucia, in her own fashion, tackles the conundrums posed by the clients of the Tailors' Guild.

Here begins Lucia's lancinating journey to clothe everyone in style as she weaves her way to happiness!

Textauszug

The Nemophila Girl

Life was preposterous. Lucia Fano, age six, knew that much for a fact.

The Kingdom of Ordine was said to be the largest and most prosperous nation on this continent, and the royal capital was said to be the most charming and splendid of all its areas. However, capital-native Lucia was born with deep green hair and eyes of oversaturated blue; her skin was pallid, her stature slight, and her looks modest and unremarkable. Dahlia, a friend who lived near Lucia’s grandmother, was a girl with red hair and bright green eyes. When she smiled, it was as though her namesake flower had blossomed. A slightly older playmate of theirs, Irma, had glossy hair the color of black tea and eyes to match, if slightly redder in hue. Her dexterity was exhibited in the braids she did herself, and she was very pretty. The girls around Lucia, every single one of them, were bolder, prettier, and cuter than herself.

Lucia knew she was unassuming. But despite that, she wanted to be cuter and prettier, and so every day, she brushed her hair neat, washed her face thoroughly, and put on her freshly laundered blue dress. Yet earlier today, some boys playing in the neighborhood had said, “You sure are like a dayflower, Lucia.”

Dayflower: a weed, small, blue, and forgettable, one that grew out of the cracks in an alleyway—how mean! But Lucia had failed to voice how much the comparison had irked her, instead running away with tears in her eyes. She was frustrated at herself for not having been able to say anything in response; she hated that about herself. She would’ve rather been blessed with height, gleaming blonde hair, and rare purple eyes. She would’ve rather been a beauty whom others compared to a rose or a lily. If only that were the case, then she would be able to wear the cute clothes that she wanted to. She would look good in the lemon yellow dress with white lacing her maternal grandmother suggested. She would look good with a long, glossy blue ribbon and a pair of red shoes with flowers all over. But she knew she would never be a girl who looked good in cutesy fashion like that.

“How preposterous.” That was a word Lucia had heard her father mutter under his breath yesterday. She had asked him what it meant, and he’d replied that it was “when things don’t make sense and you won’t stand for it.” To describe her as a dayflower was to say that the cute clothes she loved wouldn’t fit her. If that wasn’t preposterous, then she didn’t know what was. It wasn’t as though the boys had been picking on her, yet her vision was getting blurrier by the moment. Going home now and letting her family see her in tears would only make them worry, and so Lucia headed down the alley a stone’s throw from her home.

Once the evening sun dried her tears, Lucia would leave, go home, and wash her face—so she decided as she squeezed past the white walls of a warehouse. However, she realized someone had beaten her to the punch.

Though it was spring, the man had on a hooded black cloak, and he was perched on a stoop in the alleyway—perhaps he was one of those people called “perverts” that Lucia’s family always warned her about? She thought she ought to turn back while she had yet to be discovered, but the man pressed one hand against his nose and then proceeded to sniffle. It looked like there was already someone occupying the crying corner.

Lucia dug through her pockets and, after overcoming her hesitation, sped toward the man with a handkerchief clenched in her fist. “Here, please take this!”

He must’ve not noticed Lucia at all—he shrieked. “Whuh?! Oh.” His suntanned skin and tea-brown hair appeared for a split second before disappearing under his hood again. He had also shown his tea-brown eyes, which exposed the fact he had been crying. Though she couldn’t tell for certain through her own veil of tears, he seemed to be slightly older than Lucia’s brother, who was four years older than her. The young adult pulled his hood back down and refused the handkerchief. “Thank you, but I wouldn’t want to soil it.”

“It’s okay; I have two!” Lucia had to carry at least one lest she use her sleeves and dirty them, as there would be no excusing herself when her clothes got washed. She laid the white handkerchief on the youth’s knee and sat down on a step a short distance away from him. Then, Lucia took the second one out of her pocket, scrubbed at her eyes and cheeks, and assaulted it with her snot; she planned to secretly wash her hanky when she got into the bath tonight.

“Very well, then. Thank you.” He dabbed at his face underneath his hood, then blew his nose thrice with vigor; it caught Lucia off guard and even made her forget she had been crying. “Sorry for getting your handkerchief dirty. Would a silver piece be enough to cover it?”

“That one was just for practice; you can have it.”

“Sorry—practice?”

“Embroidery is a part of our family business.” The handkerchief she had given him was one of the ones she’d started out with. The Fano family ran a workshop that made socks and gloves, so Lucia had been practicing the craft since before she entered primary school. She wanted to make beautiful artwork like flowers and birds, as her mother and grandmother did, but at the moment, she barely had her cross-stitch down. As such, the handkerchief in the young man’s hand was littered with blue crosses.

It seemed like he was looking down at his new present, though she wasn’t certain, as she couldn’t see past his hood. “Such beautiful handiwork, and I’ve ruined it. Please forgive me.”

“It’s beautiful? You really mean it?” In her excitement at being complimented, her attempt to speak politely had come crashing to a halt.

He continued with the same calmness. “Yes, truly. Your stitches are so uniform. See, when my mother tried to do needlework, her handkerchief came out like a bag without an opening. It’s amazing that someone your age is capable of so much.”

The young man’s words brought a smile to Lucia’s heart, but she worried for him as well. “Does it hurt somewhere? Or did someone yell at you?” It was possible that he was a new neighbor whom she hadn’t met before. Perhaps he had come to the capital to make money. In every trade, there were many apprentices his age, and maybe his family or his master had yelled at him, he was feeling homesick, or he had gotten in a fight with his siblings or friends—there were endless reasons that would make a kid cry, just as her friends had said something to make her cry.

“No, uh, the crespelle I bought at the stall was a little too spicy. That’s all,” he said, his voice cracking. Must’ve been one spicy crespelle.

Crespelle were thick wheat crepes with various ingredients inside, all wrapped up into a rectangle. There were many choices too, like vegetables fried with meat; chopped prawn, octopus, squid, or kraken; onions sautéed with herbs; and even cubed fruits with a drizzle of honey. Different stalls offered different fillings and sauces, and with the endless combinations, there was no getting bored. Lucia often visited the crespelle stalls as well—she had them with a bowl of leftover vegetable soup for lunch or dinner when her family was too busy with work.

“Too much hot mustard?” she asked sagely.

The youth paused for a moment. “Yeah. Guess so.”

“Yeah, that happens to me too. Next time, you’ll have to try it with tomato sauce or even just salt.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He pulled his hood down with his fingertips after a breeze shifted it, and, with some hesitation, he asked, “If I may ask, what got an adorable little lady like you crying?”

Lucia froze. “Adorable little lady” were words that no one had ever used to describe her, and she felt herself blushing. She wasn’t sure if she should tell him the truth or not, but she decided to be honest with him as he had been with her. “Someone said I’m like a dayflower.” As the words tumbled out, her tears were about to do the same.

“Dayflower?” the youth repeated, as though he didn’t quite understand.

Well, she supposed he wouldn’t without any sort of explanation. “A boy who lives around here said that I’m like a dayflower. My hair is green and my eyes are blue, and I guess I’m small and boring. But it’s not like I asked to be born like this. Dresses with white lace and pretty ribbons won’t suit me, and that’s just preposterous.”

“Preposterous, you say?”

“My dad said it means ‘when things don’t make sense and you won’t stand for it.’”

“Yeah, I suppose many things in life can be preposterous...” He put his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. “Well, I think dayflowers are cute. Besides, if you want to wear clothing with lace, then who’s to say you can’t?”

“I know I won’t look good in it...” When she imagined herself in that dress, her voice shrank and there was a prickling feeling in the back of her nose.

The young man’s voice grew, however. “You know, I think you’re more of a nemophila.”

“What’s that?” Lucia tilted her head quizzically; she had neither heard of nor seen a flower by that name.

“They’re blue like the sky. A ways down the eastern highway, there’s a place where they grow as far as you can see, making you wonder if you were looking up instead of down. They may be short little...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 11.9.2023
• Reihe/Serie: Lucia and the Loom: Weaving Her Way to Happiness
• Reihe/Serie: Lucia and the Loom: Weaving Her Way to Happiness
• Illustrationen: Hisaya Amagishi
• Übersetzer: Hisaya Amagishi
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy
• Schlagworte: artisans and crafting • business • clothing and fashion • Dahlia in Bloom spinoff • female protagonist • Light Novel • Magic
• ISBN-10: 1-7183-8136-0 / 1718381360
• ISBN-13: 978-1-7183-8136-0 / 9781718381360