"Ow."

She rubbed the back of her head where she had just been smacked.

Ana looked at her disapprovingly.

"Don’t frown. You’ll ruin the makeup."

"And don’t touch your hair," Tara hissed, pulling her hand away from her head.

Mirabelle was about to frown again — then caught herself.

Ana unsettled her.

This woman radiated just as much authority as her mother. The former Mirabelle had always been a little afraid of her, and somehow, she couldn’t quite shake that feeling.

Ana was a barn owl beast. Her eyes were large and set wide apart, her nose small and slightly curved. Around it spread a sea of freckles. Her hair was snow-white, with a few feathers streaked with golden speckles woven through it.

She must have been a stunning beauty in her youth. Now, with age, that beauty had transformed into something commanding.

Interestingly, she and Tara got along perfectly — even though mice were usually prey for owls.

The Duchess had settled into one of the chairs Ana had turned toward the center of the room and was now watching everything with a predator’s gaze.

Mirabelle swallowed.

Somehow, this felt less like preparation for a ball...

...and more like she was being prepared for a feast.

With her as the main course.

"Ahhh, done."

Relief spread across the ram beast.

The Lady’s wishes and Tara’s constant corrections had cost him not only the night, but quite a few nerves as well.

Now he held the finished garment in his trembling hands. He felt like he might faint at any moment.

Then—

before he could react, Tara had already snatched the dress from him and pushed Mirabelle toward the dressing room.

The Duchess straightened in her chair, watching with interest.

She had heard about her daughter’s... unconventional instructions. But she had no intention of stopping her.

For one, Mirabelle had to learn to live with the consequences of her actions.

And secondly: She was simply relieved that her daughter wasn’t causing another scene.

She had expected Mirabelle to refuse to attend the ball altogether.

Truthfully, she herself wasn’t particularly pleased with the Queen’s demands either. But they couldn’t afford to provoke her.

Luchsenstein lay at the border between two realms.

If they weren’t careful, they would be crushed between them — leaving nothing behind but dust in history.

From the dressing room came muffled cursing, complaining, and grumbling.

From both Mirabelle and Tara.

Then, finally, the lynx female stepped out.

She wore neither shoes nor jewelry.

But even so, she was already breathtaking.

The dress clung closely to her upper body, emphasizing her form, before flowing down from her neck. With every step, the white underskirt billowed out at the sides — like foam dancing on the surface of the sea.

Her shoulders were bare. Only her arms were covered, wrapped in long, flowing sleeves attached at the sides of the bodice. The tips of the sleeves nearly brushed the floor.

But when she turned...

that was where the true scandal lay.

Her back was bare.

The fabric cascaded down behind her like a waterfall, only meeting again just above her lower back.

Tara hurried forward, draping the narrow scarf around her neck. With practiced hands, she arranged it so that the ends fell over her back, covering much of the exposed skin.

Mirabelle smiled, satisfied.

The dress was so light she could barely feel it. She felt neither restricted nor suffocated. Cool at first, it had quickly adjusted to her body temperature.

All eyes turned to the Duchess.

She rose and walked slowly around her daughter, inspecting her from every angle.

Then she nodded.

"Very good."

Whether she meant the dress — or the fact that her daughter truly intended to attend the ball — remained unclear.

A sense of satisfaction filled Mirabelle, because in a small way, she was rebelling against the rules, against this world and the uncertain fate waiting for her.

’That’s what you get,’ she directed her thoughts at the beast goddess, who still hadn’t responded.

’If you think I’ll just come here and play by your rules, you’re mistaken.’

She still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but the most likely explanation was that some higher being — something like a god — had been involved.

It definitely wasn’t a coincidence that she had ended up here.

"Alright. Let’s pick the shoes and the jewelry."

Since Mirabelle was quite tall, she would have preferred to wear flat shoes. But of course, even here, something like high heels existed. Only that both the front and the back of the shoe were elevated. More like platform shoes.

Apparently, their purpose was to balance out the sometimes extreme height difference between beastmen and females.

Still, whoever had designed them had managed to make them look elegant.

Ana decided on simple black shoes, since they would barely be visible anyway. The tailor had deliberately made the dress slightly too long to create exactly that effect.

Now Mirabelle’s legs looked even longer.

’Hopefully I can actually walk in these...’

Mirabelle sighed.

She really hadn’t expected high heels in this world.

To her surprise, though, she barely noticed them once they were on her feet.

Thanks to her tail and her athletic build, not only was her balance exceptional, her feet were also used to walking on the balls, like a cat.

’Well... at least something works in my favor.’

Her mother chose the jewelry.

She kept it simple. Only two teardrop-shaped dark blue stones hung from her cat ears. With her hair pulled back into a high ponytail, they stood out beautifully.

’Fox beast cores.’

This time, Mirabelle knew.

And she also knew that the ducal family were foxes.

Resigned, she let out a quiet sigh.

(She had been sighing a lot lately...)

Then her stomach answered for her.

Everyone fell silent.

"Can I eat something now?" Mirabelle looked at her mother... then at Tara... only to end up under Ana’s gaze.

"That would ruin the makeup."

Mirabelle’s eyes widened in disbelief.

"But I’m hungry."

"There will be food at the ball."

"What?"

She was supposed to starve until then?

Thankfully, Tara stepped in:

"She hasn’t eaten enough these past few days. Maybe just a little something?"

Ana remained firm. "That’s her own fault."

Now Mirabelle understood why the former Mirabelle had been afraid of this beastwoman.

"Bring something that can be eaten in small portions and requires little chewing."

The Duchess ended the discussion.

And so it happened that Mirabelle was served an overcooked vegetable stew.

And a bib — so she wouldn’t stain the dress.

Mirabelle: "..."

Her moment of triumph was over.

A/N: I’d love for more people to discover this story.

If you’re enjoying it, you can really help by voting with power stones, leaving a comment, or even recommending it to a friend ♡