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Ti passes slowly when you are bored and anxious, as in this exact mont sharing the room with Victorian. We don’t talk much to each other, so we mostly just exchange glances, comnt on sothing random, and leave it at that.

I didn’t even know, but this guy apparently enjoys reading. The entire ti we were stuck in here, he didn’t take a second away from a book, and I, not being much of a literature fan, just stare at the ceiling hoping the planet starts spinning faster and takes out of this boredom.

Slowly, day gives way to afternoon, with a purple gradient appearing outside the window. Looks like I’ll have to get ready alone this ti... I’m really worried about what’s going to happen.

I have a rough idea of what needs to be done, but my motor skills are certainly zero for painting my own face. Let’s tackle the dress first, which is the most annoying part. I take off my shirt and pants, remaining only in comfortable underwear, which I’ll use even inside the dress, and then I put that humble amount of fabric over my body and fasten the hooks one by one.

Because of the size of my torso and because I’m not exactly the slimst girl in the world, I’m forced to jump or contort myself to close everything properly, ending up squeezing myself like a straitjacket. How do won have the courage to wear this? It’s a damn suffocating thing.

"Hey, Victorian, can you give a hand here?"

At that request, the big guy cos over and helps finish tightening the rest of those laces, nearly bursting my ribs, but the scene I see in the mirror makes my jaw drop.

It’s hard to describe the feeling of being a transvestite cis-man with a guy two heads taller behind you, displaying those tree-trunk-sized arms. The image is burned into my retinas, now I’ll never forget it, goddammit.

While I’m suffering because of this glorious scene and because I’m about to explode with how much stuff is on , things got even worse when Victorian ard himself with the makeup kit.

"Wait, wait, are you going to do this to ? Don’t co near !"

Completely disregarding my plea, Victorian moves past with the speed of a flash of light, applying the powder, the mascara, the beauty mark under the eye, and a set of details I didn’t even think possible. I was made up in a fraction of a second, even the purple lipstick stands out on my lips in a way I didn’t believe was possible...

"W-What did you do?"

I look at the gorilla’s back, who lets out a self-satisfied laugh and shows a proud smile, exposing each of the feminine world’s deadly tools as if they were lethal needles about to be thrown at .

"You might not know this, Master Darius, but I have a daughter. I learned all of this from her."

Incredible, I didn’t know that was a power that ca with fatherhood. Still, I greatly underestimated this guy, the Daria in front of is more beautiful than the one I saw at the stylist’s. Well, if we finish with the earrings, the bracelet, and the rings, I’ll practically look like a noble virgin lady!

"One thing... since when do you know how to do anything besides fight? I thought that since you’re a general of the North, you’d be a more rough guy and strictly focused on the art of war."

"Master Darius, people tend to judge us by what we are most famous for. You cannot judge the author by the book, just as you cannot guess a warrior’s experience by his way of fighting. I like my family, I love them very much, so I know things that have nothing to do with war... and because of them I am very grateful that you accepted this mission for my sake.."

He sits down in the chair, wiping a helt with a cloth. Victorian will be the bodyguard for two twin sisters visiting Ragna’s headquarters, so he is already preparing the armor pieces to wear.

"Honestly, Master Darius, I would very much like to reward you, but... I don’t think I have anything to offer besides my strength and a helping hand."

A faint smile appears on the big guy’s face, which touches a little. It’s weird talking in this pure maiden outfit, yet I understand what he ans. My choice is one that only a lunatic would dare to make, and so I decided to sacrifice my life so that idiot could return ho.

The right thing would be to say I don’t want anything in return, but in the end, I really hope to acquire sothing decent for my effort. If I were to ntion one good thing, it would be the fact that Victorian will be strong regardless in the future, one of the most powerful lancers on the continent, which is already a good thing for .

I roll my eyes, killing the conversation there.

The door opens without warning, it simply bursts inward, slamming against the wall. For fuck sake, I almost ripped the dress from the shock, you asshole!

Elizia appears first, panting, smiling like a snake satisfied with its own malice, but it’s not her that makes my heart drop to my knees, nor makes lose all the composure of a "noble virgin lady" that Victorian just sculpted into .

The person responsible for this is standing next to her... or rather, soone identical to .

The creature behind Elizia has my height, my body, my fake hair, the sa refined makeup, the sa beauty mark under the sa eye, the sa dress in a complentary shade, and, worst of all, the sa unhappy expression I usually make when I give up on life.

Ah, my blood must have turned to ice.

"...Elizia" I murmur, unable to look away, because I can’t. "What did you do?"

"Oooh, did you like it, Daaarius?" She claps her hands, spinning around. "I said I could make you two look like siblings, didn’t I? Ta-da! Now you are perfect twins!"

Philou performs a half-turn, analyzing her own reflection in the mirror with absolute neutrality.

It’s a macabre thing. I feel like I’m watching my evil clone who could, at any mont, strangle and steal my life.

"This is... this is so wrong. I’ve already started regretting the idea of being twins!"

Philou turns her face, MY face, and says with my sa tired expression:

"Don’t ruin the twin sisters’ story."

I feel like throwing up, even her voice sounds like my female version trying to be polite. Why did I agree to this? Why didn’t I run to the desert to beco a beggar? Elizia gives two pats on the broken door.

"Enough drama, my princesses! It’s ti to go et Ragna."

I inhale all the air possible and slap my hands on my thighs, giving up on my sanity.

"Now? Like this? With... her?" I point at my demonic clone.

"Of course! Our contact is already waiting outside. The very stylist who designed both sisters, Ysabelle Vernotte. That woman is a talent! She’s handling the logistics and clearing the way for both of you."

I slowly turn my body, still processing the sight of my doppelganger. Victorian, fully coated in armor now, stands up, tall enough to hit his head on the door fra.

"Master Darius... I an, Miss Daria. We should go."

This is making want to die. Why am I still impressed?

Outside, the sky has already turned a deep blue, stitched with the reddish lamps of Mastan’s lower streets. The breeze doesn’t help, it lifts the skirt and almost reveals my underwear, so I hold the fabric like a shy debutante.

In the middle of the dark street stands Ysabelle Vernotte, the stylist, with that posture of soone who controls fifty businesses with an imaginary whip. She waves a shiny fan, smiling with the perfection of soone who has disguised a thousand criminals.

"Ah, my darlings! You look absolutely divine..."

For a mont, I see so saliva almost dripping from her mouth, but the woman covers it up with the fan and shakes her head.

"Follow , we don’t have much ti. Lady Ragna is in a great mood tonight, so it is the ideal mont."

Philou walks beside , our steps synchronized. It’s so synchronized it gives the creeps.

Victorian leads the way, clanking his armor plates and making the crowd step aside out of sheer respect or fear.

I, of course, follow along, trying not to trip, not to cry, and not to have a collapse, knowing that my sinister clone is breathing down my neck.

Elizia, behind us, whispers with that cursed voice:

"Don’t worry, Darius. With this duo, no one will suspect a thing."

I keep my mouth shut, because if I open my mouth now, I’ll start screaming for Duke Moonlight to carry on his back like a bear again.

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