The vast Dragon Soul Continent was divided and ruled by nine great kingdoms.
Among them, the Delos Empire stood supreme, occupying a fertile hundred thousand square kilometers at the heart of the continent. Its abundant resources and flourishing civilization attracted the greatest concentration of Magic Warriors and Mages in the world.
The world's strongest Archmage served as the Delos Empire's Chancellor, and with him holding court, the empire's power only grew.
In the eastern reaches of the Delos Empire lay Kanoshi Province, and within it, Windmill Town.
Under a ceiling of leaden clouds, the shabby old Tailor Shop looked gloomier than ever. Nineteen-year-old Roger Miodak sat at its door, staring off into space.
"In my former life I was young and promising—rich, powerful, a real heavyweight. How on earth did I end up transmigrating to a world of magic and become a broke tailor?!" he muttered.
Recalling his fate, he still felt as though he were dreaming.
He—had transmigrated.
From a pure-blooded Earthlings to this magical realm… as absurd as it sounded, the evidence lay before him; he couldn't deny it.
After a long while, he forced himself to accept the truth of his situation and face the awkward reality.
"This is a magic-dominated world—complicated as hell. Getting ahead will be tough, but it's also thrilling! And me… I'm nothing but a fallen Noble scraping by on my family's old Tailor Shop. No, more accurately, I'm someone who can eat but can't keep the whole family fed—a lonely bachelor!"
Roger thought it over.
In that moment, he resolved that his past life was gone forever; he'd accept his current identity.
Windmill Town's population topped ten thousand and was dominated by four powers: the Gang, the Garrison Command, the Church, and the Magic Guild. The Magic Guild boasted the most members and wielded the greatest strength.
Any Mage or Magic Warrior you passed on the street was almost guaranteed to be a Guild member.
Roger was one of them.
He had been born into the Miodak family, once among the realm's top-tier Nobles decades ago. But the Miodaks had long since fallen from grace, and the few remaining relatives had scattered across the world.
"A phoenix with clipped wings is no better than a chicken," people said of a fallen Noble like Roger.
In this world, to be a ruined Noble was not a badge of honor but a crushing disgrace too shameful to admit.
So Roger had no choice but to earn his keep by his own skill.
He wasn't a proper Mage but a Magic Tailor—carrying on the family craft.
He could weave magic into garments that bore powerful Amplification Attributes, creating all manner of Magic Artifacts and Mage Robes.
But with so many tailors in town and his own skills still rough around the edges, business had gone steadily downhill.
A few months ago he'd inherited this Tailor Shop from his father, who'd died of illness. Since then he'd lost money every month—never mind making a profit.
Worst of all, the damned Gang demanded protection fees, forcing Roger to empty his wallet and hand over his hard-earned coins to those thugs.
His past self hadn't been so lucky: unable to pay their extortion, he'd been beaten to death by the Gang.
"Now it was Roger's turn to face such a perilous situation.
"The Gang are nothing but ruthless outlaws who care only for profit. If I can't pay their protection fees, they'll surely turn on me next," Roger muttered, pressing his brows together as the weight of survival bore down on him.
Just then, the dark clouds overhead dispersed, and warm sunlight bathed the ground.
Under the golden rays, a lavish brass carriage drawn by two powerful white stallions rolled to a stop outside the Tailor Shop.
The carriage door swung open, and a stunning young woman of about sixteen or seventeen stepped out. She wore a form-fitting, cream-colored gown; her long, golden hair fell over her shoulders; her face was a picture of beauty.
In her left hand she held a delicate, pure-white magic wand—its tip carved like a budding flower and set with a dozen violet gemstones. With graceful steps, she approached the shop's entrance.
"Huh? What wind blew her here?"
Roger, surprised by her arrival, rose calmly to greet her.
This beautiful girl was Norna, only daughter of the Dudon Knight and widely regarded as Windmill Town's most beautiful woman.
By her station, she likely didn't even know who Roger was—but he certainly knew her.
They belonged to entirely different strata of society and had never crossed paths. Yet here she was, coming to him of her own accord—a sign that Roger's fortunes were about to change.
"What a fine day this is," Roger quipped with a playful smile. "Lady Norna herself visits my humble little shop."
A young guard traveling with her glared at Roger, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword as he took a step forward to shield Norna. "How dare you court Lady Norna, you lowly commoner? Behave yourself!" he hissed.
Such a high-spirited greeting—was that courting? If it counted, a simple handshake would surely have left Norna expecting a child.
"You may step back," Norna ordered the guard.
Her wits were clearly sharper than her escort's; she saw nothing untoward in Roger's words, which came off as witty rather than rude.
She offered him a sweet smile and spoke softly, "I realize I haven't visited often. I've been busy with my training and haven't had the chance to support your business."
As she spoke, she extended her right hand toward Roger.
Roger blinked at her gesture, then caught on.
"Oh! You wish for a hand-kiss," he thought to himself.
He took her right hand in his own and gently pressed his lips to the back of it.
Norna withdrew her hand and said, "I'd like to commission from your father a Holy Light Cloak. I need it urgently—if you can complete it today, I'll pay double."
Roger forced a bitter smile. "Lady Norna, you don't know… my father passed away three months ago. I only just inherited this Tailor Shop and haven't yet mastered the technique to make a Holy Light Cloak."
The Holy Light Cloak was the Miodak family's signature creation: costly to produce but possessing few practical applications. Only a rare Light Mage would ever use one.
So that means Norna is a one-in-a-million Light Mage.
She truly is a magical prodigy!
"Please accept my condolences. It seems I've come at the worst possible time—what a pity." Norna looked genuinely regretful and turned to leave.
Roger felt helpless and resentful. "Wait a moment. I might be able to think of a solution for you."
He said it, but in truth he had no way to solve this problem.
He was only a third-tier Mage. Although he could sew a Holy Light Cloak, he lacked the Mana to enchant it himself.
An unenchanted Holy Light Cloak was, at best, an ordinary garment.
Yet he desperately wanted Norna's payment—if only so he could pay the Gang their protection fee.
Otherwise, he'd face ruin once more.
[God-Level Tailor System Activated! Host Bound: Roger!]
[With the God-Level Tailor System, you can craft garments of immense power!]
[Notice: The system will provide one free clothing blueprint, chosen at random.]
[Congratulations, Host! You have received the Sexy Lingerie blueprint!]
…
In an instant, a cascade of messages flooded Roger's mind.
"What on earth?"
He assumed he was hallucinating.
Only when every detail of the God-Level Tailor System fully integrated into his consciousness did he realize it was real.
But the system's capabilities were… unusual.
He learned that the higher a garment's Erotic Value, the stronger its bonus attributes.
And as Roger's tailoring skill improved, he could create even more powerful clothing.
Most importantly—
Any woman who wore one of his enchanted garments and gained its Enchantment Attributes would return one hundred percent of those attributes to him!
The essential catch—women only.
The effect would only activate if a woman donned the piece.
This requirement felt odd, but in its own way, it made sense.
It would let Roger focus exclusively on serving a female clientele, cornering and expanding that market.
Besides, women's money was the easiest to earn.
That was an unchanging truth.
"I've gone from the brink of death to a second chance—my luck's turning around!" Roger pumped his fist in excitement.
Thanks to the God-Level Tailor System, the enchantment process would be handled automatically, saving Roger time and effort.
Unfortunately, for now he could only sew one type—Sexy Lingerie.
Though called Sexy Lingerie, its magical properties made it a form of Magic Equipment.
He had to use the gifted Sexy Lingerie blueprint to craft a powerful enough piece of Magic Equipment to secure Norna as a big client.
Even if making such lingerie ran counter to Roger's usual sensibilities, it fit his profession—after all, tailors do make women's lingerie.
Norna watched Roger's gleeful grin and asked, "Stop smirking—what solution did you come up with?"