Thank every possible deity this academy believed in personal space.

Individual dorms.

Actual walls.

Doors that closed.

Privacy that wasn’t constantly being violated by overprotective, emotionally unstable men with questionable boundaries.

I lay face-first on the bed the moment we got inside, spreading out like I had just survived a battlefield instead of orientation.

’How expensive is this academy that every student gets their own room?’ I wondered. ’Do they charge per breath too?’

Meanwhile, Gawain was already unpacking my luggage like a dedicated housewife who had accepted his fate.

"Why do you have so many eye veils, My Lady?" he asked, holding one up like it was a suspicious artifact.

I didn’t even lift my face from the mattress. "To cover my eyes."

A pause before I turned my head slightly to glare at him.

"My eyes are too bright and rare," I added. "I don’t want any of my clients recognizing me."

"Why not just shift into your beast form?" he asked casually.

I shot upright like he had just suggested I commit social suicide. "Absolutely not!"

He blinked.

"Do you know how hard it is to communicate like that?" I continued, already offended. "Also, what if the Duke—or one of his aides—recognizes me? Do you want me to get hunted down before midterms?!"

"...That would be inconvenient," he admitted.

"Exactly."

I stood up, brushing imaginary dust off myself like I had just made a very important speech.

Then immediately switched moods.

"Are you done?" I asked, eyes sparkling.

He slowly turned to face me. "...Why do I feel like I shouldn’t answer that question?"

"Because we still have to pick outfits for later!" I said excitedly, grabbing his arm.

His expression suddenly changed. That deep, resigned, ’I knew this was coming’ look.

"My Lady," he said carefully, "please tell me we are choosing something simple."

"No."

"Something subtle?"

"No."

"Something that won’t attract attention?"

I smiled sweetly "...No."

"...At least let me survive the night," he muttered.

"Come on, Gawain!" I said, already halfway through dragging him toward the door. "This is my first time going to an after-party! Cheer up!"

"My Lady," he said immediately, digging his heels in like a man who had seen his future and hated it, "judging by your expression earlier, I assumed you were planning to keep a low profile and not attract the entire population of this academy?"

I clicked my tongue.

The walking red flags.

The main characters.

The people I absolutely, definitely, under no circumstances should interact with ever again.

Well... I only interacted with one of them.

Two if I counted the almost face-eating incident.

"...It’s fine," I decided.

Gawain stared at me. "It is not fine."

"It’s temporarily fine," I corrected. "Just for tonight. After this, I’ll go back to being invisible."

He squinted at me. "You said that earlier."

"And this time I mean it."

"You also meant it earlier."

I ignored him.

"Okay, new plan," I said, grabbing his arm again. "We go to Laurel and find something simple but sophisticated."

He allowed himself to be dragged this time, but only because he had given up on controlling anything in his life.

"...Who’s Laurel?"

"The owner of Beasté Élegance Boutique."

He stopped walking again. "You do know they charge an absurd amount for a single outfit, right?"

"So?" I looked at him and smiled sweetly. "I’ll be using your money anyway."

"..."

He just stood there like his soul had exited his body and was currently filing a complaint.

"My Lady," he said slowly, "that is my money."

"And I am your priority," I shot back immediately.

"That’s not how finances work!"

"It is today."

He dragged a hand down his face. "You are going to bankrupt me."

"No," I said confidently. "I’m going to invest in your image."

"I don’t need an image!"

"You do if you’re going to stand next to me."

"...I regret everything."

Too late.

I was already pulling him out the door again.

"Come on!" I said excitedly. "We don’t have time! The after-party starts at seven!"

"And my financial downfall starts now," he muttered as he followed.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Beasté Élegance Boutique

"Miss Blanca! You’re back again!" Laurel greeted, practically glowing as she spotted me—until her gaze slid past my shoulder and landed on Gawain.

Her smile widened dangerously.

"Ohhh..." she hummed, eyes sparkling like she had just discovered a walking treasury. "You brought a friend."

I immediately stepped in front of Gawain like a protective shield.

"He’s my aide," I said flatly, glaring at her like I could physically lower prices through intimidation. "And don’t you dare increase anything. I’ll be the one paying."

Behind me, Gawain made a small, emotional noise.

Laurel’s smile cracked painfully like I had just told her profit margins didn’t exist.

"When," she said slowly, placing a hand over her heart, "will you ever spice up my life again?"

"Not going to happen," I replied without hesitation.

"Oh, I’m sure it will," she shot back, recovering instantly. Then she clapped her hands, business mode activated. "Alright! What are we dressing for?"

"We have an after-party at seven," I pulled Gawain, sitting on one of the lounge rooms.

Laurel blinked. "After-party?"

"It’s our first day at the Imperial Artificer’s Academy."

Laurel’s brows lifted slightly, interest sharpening. "So you’re aspiring to be a carver, huh?" she said, her smile widening just a little too much. "What do you say—when you graduate, you come work with me?"

Her smile was warm but her eyes? Pure business.

I straightened unconsciously, my entire aura shifting like a switch had been flipped.

"I’m sorry," I said smoothly, "but I already have my own business."

The air between us changed.

"Oh?" she hummed, clearly intrigued rather than offended. "Then we can collaborate instead."

"No, thank you," I replied with a polite smile that absolutely did not mean polite things. "I prefer to work alone."

We stared at each other.

Two businesswomen.

Two predators.

Two people silently calculating profit margins, leverage, and potential betrayal.

If there were background music, it would’ve been dramatic.

If there were subtitles, it would’ve been:

"Not today."

"We’ll see."

And then—

Laurel chuckled first, breaking the tension like it had never existed.

"Well," she said, amused, "you’re smarter and fiercer than kids your age."

I smiled. "Thank you. Now shall we pick our outfits?"

"Of course, Miss Blanca," she said, seamlessly switching back. Then her gaze slid toward Gawain. "Who should go first? You or...?"

"Gawain," I supplied immediately.

"Maybe he should go first," Laurel said, already plotting something.

"I agree," I said without hesitation.

Gawain looked at me. "My Lady—"

"Bubbles! Blossom! Buttercup!" Laurel clapped sharply. "Bring out the evening collection—men’s and women’s!"

Gawain took one step back before pointing at me like I had personally ruined his life.

"My Lady—wait—no—"

Too late.

They already grabbed him, one on each arm, and the third was already pushing a rack of clothes like it was a weapon.

"I’m not ready for this—!"

"You’ll be fine," I said calmly, waving at him.

"I don’t consent to this—!"

"Too bad."

"I don’t even know what we’re doing—!"

"Improving you."

He looked like he was about to cry but before he really could, he was ragged into the dressing room like a sacrifice as the curtain closed.

Silence.

...

..

.

"MY LAAAADDDDYYYY—!"

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The curtain slid open—and for a moment, even I forgot how to breathe.

Gawain stepped out first.

Gone was the dramatic crybaby who complained about finances and survival.

In his place stood someone... refined.

Dangerously so.

His outfit was tailored to perfection—a deep charcoal ensemble with subtle silver threading that caught the light just enough to suggest luxury without screaming it.

The coat was structured, sharp at the shoulders, tapering cleanly down his frame, giving him an almost commanding presence.

Underneath, a fitted vest and crisp shirt added layers of elegance, while a narrow tie—dark, understated—pulled everything together like a final, calculated touch.

It wasn’t flashy.

He already looked like someone who stood behind power and could eliminate problems before they even reached it.

"My Lady?" he called, a little unsure under all that newfound sophistication.

I clapped immediately, a tear escaped from my eye. "Perfect!"

"I’m glad you like it, Miss," Laurel said smoothly. Then she turned to me, her smile sharpening. "Now it’s your turn."

I pointed a finger at her. "Like I said, simple," I reminded.

"No," she said instantly.

Gawain nodded like his life depended on it. "Yes. Make her simple."

Laurel pointed at him. "You."

"Me?" he echoed, pointing at himself.

"You look expensive," she said bluntly. "Sophisticated and controlled." Then she placed a hand on my shoulder, eyes gleaming. "So your lady..."

I already didn’t like where this was going.

"...is going to walk in there and make people remember her name."

"No," I argued. "I want to stay simple."

Laurel turned to Gawain. "...She’s joking, right?"

"No," he answered immediately.

"Change of plans then!" Laurel clapped.

I sighed.

"Controlled chaos," she declared.

"...What does that even mean?"

"It means," she said with a grin, "you’ll try to be low-key..."

She snapped her fingers as a dress was brought out.

"...and fail beautifully."

Gawain covered his face. "Please don’t. She’ll definitely get noticed."

"That’s what I’m planning to do," Laurel’s smile widened.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

A few moments later, I stepped out and this time, Gawain forgot how to speak.

The dress was... restrained but only at first glance.

A soft, pale tone—like freshly fallen snow—flowed elegantly down my figure, the fabric light yet layered. It wasn’t overly decorated, but the details were there—fine embroidery tracing subtle patterns along the hem and sleeves, almost invisible unless someone looked closely.

The neckline was modest, but framed just enough to draw attention upward, while the silhouette hugged gently before flowing outward, creating an image that was both delicate and commanding.

And then the contrast.

Dark accents—barely noticeable at first—woven into the design, tying seamlessly with Gawain’s outfit.

I looked like someone who shouldn’t be touched while he looked like someone who would make sure of it.

Laurel clasped her hands together, clearly pleased. "Perfect pairing."

Gawain lowered his hand slowly, staring at me like he had just realized something deeply inconvenient.

"...We’re getting noticed," he muttered.

I glanced at him then at myself. "...It still looks simple to me."

He stared at me in disbelief. "That is not simple."

Laurel laughed. "That," she corrected, "is strategic simplicity."

I tilted my head. "...I like it."

Gawain sighed. "...We’re doomed."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Now that everything was done, I confidently walked up to the counter, fully prepared to pay like the successful, independent businesswoman that I was.

Laurel handed me the bill.

I looked at it, blinked, then looked again.

"...Is this number correct?" I asked slowly, as if maybe there had been a tragic, life-altering typo.

Laurel smiled. "I already deducted the discount."

I felt something inside me crack.

"I didn’t even include the cost of the hairstyle and makeup," she added helpfully.

I almost coughed out blood internally.

"...Fine," I said, voice trembling ever so slightly as I handed over the payment like I was signing away my future.

"Please come again!" Laurel waved at me as the door closed.

So much for joking about Gawain paying. At this rate, I was the one going bankrupt.

"Please come again!" Laurel waved cheerfully as we stepped out.

The door closed behind us.

I stared straight ahead.

I’m never coming back here again.

"Let’s go," I said flatly, turning to Gawain.

He raised his arm like this was some noble escort moment, and I hooked mine through his without thinking.

"What time is it anyway?" I asked.

"6:45," he replied.

I froze. "...What?" then immediately panicked. "We’re going to be late!"

Right on cue, he hailed a cab with suspicious calmness.

"Since we’re already late," he said, opening the door, "why don’t we just not attend anymore? It’s a hassle mingling with strangers."

I turned to him slowly. "No."

He blinked. "No?"

"After everything we went through?" I gestured dramatically at our outfits. "Do you know how much I paid for this?!"

"...A life-changing amount."

"Exactly!"

"I’m sure you’ll earn it back, My Lady," he added smoothly. "You’re a brilliant businesswoman."

"Thank you for the compliment," I narrowed my eyes. "But don’t change the topic."

He looked offended. "I wasn’t—"

"We are going," I cut him off, climbing into the cab. "Whether you like it or not."

He sighed, defeated, and got in after me.

As the car started moving, he leaned back, staring at the ceiling like a man who had accepted his tragic fate.

"...If I don’t survive tonight," he muttered, "please remember me as someone who tried to avoid this."