“I’m sorry for startling you. I was so happy to see Paula becoming prettier that I didn’t pay enough attention to your feelings.”
“No, not at all. You don’t need to apologize.”
“Then, Paula, you mustn’t say things like that again, alright?”
She giggled and reached out. I stared at her delicate fingertips as she beckoned. Hesitant, I finally offered my hand. She gripped it tightly and pulled herself up, and I followed suit, rising from my seat. Her radiant, joyful smile filled my vision.
I lowered my head, suppressing the lump in my throat. My eyes stung—surely just from the lingering warmth of our clasped hands.
“Hmm, how about we just style the back of your hair? I won’t touch the bangs, and I won’t apply any makeup—just the back. It’s such a waste to be dressed this beautifully and do nothing, right?”
“Th-then, just the back….”
“Yes, just the back! I promise I won’t touch the front at all. It’s a promise.”
Only after Violet swore it several times did she sneakily move behind me. She began to touch the back of my hair with immense care. My body went rigid. My nerves were frayed; I was ready to bolt at the slightest straying of her fingers toward my bangs.
Thankfully, she kept her word.
“Paula’s hair is wavy, too. Just like mine.”
*Look.* She gestured to her own hair. As she claimed, the ends were curved, and the whole of it possessed a distinct, voluminous wave.
“It’s so intense that I sometimes envy people with straight hair. But then, they envy mine because they can’t achieve this volume. I suppose moderation is best, but yours is a bit softer than mine.”
“I apologize.”
“Oh, my. I told you, there’s no need to apologize.”
Her cheerful laughter tickled my ears. I fidgeted, my fingers dancing nervously in my lap.
Violet braided the hair at the back of my head and pinned it into a bun. When she searched for an accessory, I held out a white ribbon—the one I had cherished ever since she gave it to me.
“I brought some new ones, you know.”
“I like this one.”
“But I brought so many beautiful pieces! Let me use those instead.”
I shook my head.
“I would like you to decorate it with this ribbon. It suits my outfit, and it is my most precious possession. It would make me very happy if you used this.”
At my words, she beamed and used the ribbon to secure the bun.
Once finished, she stepped back to inspect me. Her gaze made me tense again. After a long, silent study, she voiced her dissatisfaction, claiming the look was still too plain. She pondered, clapped her hands, and pulled several square boxes from her bag.
Inside were pearls, a round jewel, rings, and a bracelet. My eyes widened before I could stop myself, but I quickly waved my hands in a frantic refusal. I knew what she intended.
But Violet was adamant; this was one thing she could not concede.
As she clasped the necklace around my throat, I swallowed dryly. *What if I lose this?* The weight of it pressed down on me. As she added the bracelet and rings, I kept gulping. I pleaded that it was too much, but it was lost on Violet, who was utterly absorbed in her transformation of me.
She inspected me one final time and smiled with satisfaction. *Is it finally over?* I let out a silent sigh, desperate to take it all off, but she led me to the mirror.
“How is it?”
“…….”
A stranger stared back. If not for the familiar curtain of bangs covering my face, I might not have recognized the reflection. My mouth hung open.
The woman in the mirror wasn’t me.
My hair was swept up in a neat, intricate bun, held by the ribbon with trailing ends. The pink dress nipped at my waist, the corset effect and the voluminous skirt creating a silhouette I didn’t know I possessed.
The gloves, the white stockings, and the shoes—matching the dress with delicate bows—were in perfect harmony. The jewelry filled the gaps where I had feared looking plain.
I raised a hand, and the woman in the mirror mimicked the movement. I touched the lace on my shoulder, the cuff of my sleeve, and the ribbon in my hair. Every gesture was reflected back.
It really was ‘me.’
“Pretty, isn’t it?”
“……Yes. Ah, no. The dress is.”
Violet laughed mischievously. I insisted I meant it, but she only laughed harder.
The situation was both awkward and fascinating. I had expected the pink to make me look like a child, yet it gave me a mature, polished air. I finally understood why she lamented my bangs; they stood out more than ever. I fiddled with them, trying to shake the thought, when a knock sounded at the door.
Lucas entered, carrying a square box. He froze mid-step, his eyes scanning me from head to toe.
“……Paula?”
“Yes.”
Lucas remained rooted to the spot. I looked to Violet, who watched him with a curious grin. I approached Lucas and took the box from his stunned hands, handing it to Violet. She beamed, looking back and forth between us, then turned me to face him, placing her hands on my shoulders.
“Well? Isn’t she pretty?”
“…….”
He didn’t speak, his gaze fixed entirely on me. Embarrassed, I toyed with my hem. The silence stretched until I felt humiliated, certain I must look ridiculous. I turned to go change, but a low voice stopped me.
“You are beautiful.”
His blank expression softened, his brown eyes radiating a warmth that felt like it was dripping with honey.
“Very much so.”
“…….”
*Somehow, I feel even more embarrassed.*
I scratched my exposed neck, turning away. Violet’s smile was so wide it seemed to touch her ears. Burdened by their intensity, I stared at the floor.
“May I take this off now?”
“Already? Stay a little longer.”
“I have to go clean.”
“Oh, my. What a shame. It would be nice if we could go to a party.”
I brushed off her words with a laugh, but she persisted, asking what I thought about hosting one here. I shook my head violently. It was a horrifying suggestion—beyond the chaos of hosting, I didn’t even have guests to invite.
Her shoulders slumped in genuine disappointment. I felt a pang of guilt, but I couldn’t agree. As I turned to retrieve my old clothes, Lucas spoke up.
“How about we do it just among ourselves? A party.”
And just like that, a party was decided.
It was small—me, Violet, Lucas, and Vincent. Hardly a party at all, yet Violet and Lucas moved with such speed that Isabella was already managing preparations. Even Vincent, who heard the news late, looked bewildered.
“Anyone watching would think this is your mansion,” he remarked.
“Why~? It’s fun, isn’t it?”
“Whatever makes you happy.”
“…”
There was no stopping them. The central hall of the annex was chosen. Isabella ordered the maids to decorate and the chef to prepare food, giving strict instructions that no one was to enter once they began.
My offers to help were dismissed. Violet insisted I stay in my room so I wouldn’t ruin my dress. She and Lucas went down to oversee the hall, leaving me alone with Vincent.
I fidgeted. The dress felt heavy, and the mounting rowdiness outside made me feel as if I were sitting on thorns.
Vincent sat at the far end of the sofa, chin in his hand, his black dress shoes tapping the air. Dressed in the tailcoat Lucas had forced upon him, his golden hair slicked back, he looked like a dignified young nobleman—though his slouched posture betrayed a wayward spirit dragged here against his will. The lack of harmony made me smile, breaking some of the tension.
He certainly caught the eye, even if he was knitting his brows in annoyance.
“Every time they come over, they do this.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I feel like I encouraged them.”
“So you cheered them on this time, too?”
“That’s not it.”
Vincent sighed and leaned back, dragging his fingers through his hair.
“It can’t be helped.”
The resignation in his voice was clear, though he didn’t seem truly displeased. I silently prayed for the night to pass without incident.
“Why do you keep shifting around?”
My constant movement must have been grating.
“The dress is uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”
“The dress?”
“Violet insisted I wear it for the party.”
To be honest, it was my wearing it that had triggered this whole mess. I smoothed the hem of my skirt, my nerves frayed by the cost of the finery on my skin.
Vincent turned his gaze toward me, his expression lopsided and intent. I looked back, wondering what he was thinking.