A Team, Apparently
Ten days had passed since I went to Shinana Village. When the knights went to collect the silk clumps, they reported that production was steady—ten clumps every morning.
That meant about a hundred in ten days, and combined with the ones stored at home, nearly two hundred in total.
That might be enough to make a small piece of fabric.
When we handed the silk to a specialist, he returned with a 50-centimeter-square sample, so Maria and I began our tests.
“So this is the new kind of cloth,” Maria said, taking it in her hands and tugging it in every direction—lengthwise, crosswise, and diagonally.
“Maria, there’s only one piece of this fabric, so please be gentle.”
“My apologies. Old habits die hard…”
I understood her urge to test its strength and flexibility, but right now, this one sheet was all we had.
First, I wanted to find out what type of fabric it most resembled.
“The texture isn’t bad. It feels about as heavy as cotton. Next, we should see if it shrinks in water, how it reacts to drying, soap washing, and heat from an iron,” Maria suggested.
Not wanting to ruin it completely, I cut the fabric into quarters. We placed one piece into a bucket filled with water—and it floated.
Even after five minutes, it stayed afloat. I pressed it underwater with my hand, but the moment I let go, it popped right back up.
“Maria, what do you make of this?”
She guessed the fabric might have water-repellent properties.
We used another quarter to make a small bag. I slipped my finger inside, dunked the bag underwater, then pulled it out.
The outside of the bag was wet, but my finger inside felt only faintly damp—not really wet at all.
We clipped both the wet test piece and the bag to a clothesline with clothespins, and after about fifteen minutes, they were completely dry.
Next, we tested hot water—40, 50, and 60 degrees Celsius.
Maria wanted to go all the way up to 100 degrees, but I told her to wait until after I left the workshop.
At all three temperatures, the fabric neither shrank nor changed drying speed.
I left Maria to continue testing the other properties and went home to report the results to my family.
“So it repels water?”
“Not completely,” I said. “But it absorbs far less than cotton or silk. We’ll need more testing.”
“If you refine this, it could make raincoats for knights, merchants, even adventurers,” Brother Gerald said.
“Brother Gerald, I don’t think it’s quite that good yet.”
“Still, it must be lighter than leather. With a few improvements, I think it’s doable,” he insisted, already pushing for raincoat development.
“I was actually thinking of using it in the new district,” I said—and everyone looked at me at once, curious.
I explained my idea: though the hot springs are separated by gender, what if we made bathing clothes from this fabric and built a new kind of mixed hot spring facility where everyone could enter together?
Basically—swimwear.
Since showing too much skin wouldn’t be appropriate, we could make pajama-style or jinbei-style suits instead.
“Families often visit together, so a place where everyone can bathe would be nice,” Father said.
“Yes, exactly,” I nodded.
To keep it interesting, I suggested including slides, wave pools, stone saunas, waterfall baths, bubble tubs, footbaths, and saunas.
“Would people buy these bathing suits?”
“Brother Gerald, they’d be rentals,” I explained. “People would pay a usage fee. But for those who don’t like wearing something used, we’ll offer new suits for purchase.”
“What about sizing?” Father asked.
Since nobles in this world are used to custom-made clothes, the idea of ready-to-wear didn’t exist.
So I explained the concept of S, M, L, LL, and 3L sizes—and that we’d also make several sizes for children.
“Hardt, didn’t we already plan to build a large-scale hot spring resort later?” Grandfather asked.
“Yes, Grandfather, but that was before we had this fabric. I wanted a facility where families could enjoy bathing together.”
Because an all-day leisure facility would be large in scale, it had been put on hold—mainly since we’d need a capable manager to oversee it. But I’d been given permission to proceed with developing the bathing clothes.
“Hardt, make sure you work on the raincoat too,” Brother Gerald said. “Being able to move in the rain with light clothing would be a huge help for knights.”
He’d be entering the knight course at the academy this spring, so raincoats and waterproof shoe inserts were probably of personal interest to him.
“Gerald, if you really manage to make a raincoat, it’ll cause quite a stir,” Father said.
“Yes, but wouldn’t you want one too? Imagine being able to stay dry even in the rain.”
“Well… that’s true, but…”
“Still, there’s no point worrying about something that isn’t finished yet,” Mother said calmly. “They can’t even start proper experiments until they have enough fabric.”
“Mother, you say that, but think about what Hardt and Maria have already pulled off,” Father protested to Grandmother.
Wait—are Maria and I being treated like troublemakers now?
Sure, I’ll admit our product development tends to move fast—but we’ve contributed plenty to Westland!
Father just sighed and said, “Yes, but the more you contribute, the more headaches you cause,” leaving me speechless.
… Unfair. Totally unfair.
What do you think about this chapter?
