Not a Young Master, but a Young Lady
A world war had broken out — one destined to set the entire globe ablaze — and still the nation cheered.
Not a soul so much as entertained the thought of their country's defeat. The recruitment offices burst at the seams with young men drunk on romanticism and patriotic fervor, and the prevailing optimism held that no matter how long the fighting dragged on, it would all be over by Christmas.
But contrary to every expectation, the war only stretched on. Time passed. The following year's Christmas came and went, and still there was no end in sight. On top of that, repeated failed offensives left the army short of soldiers, so the military expanded the draft — and that expansion swept up everyone from orphans in the slums to me, the only son of a father who held a seat in political circles.
It was a problem money could have solved. Father's solution, however, was simpler. And cheaper.
"I really can't thank you enough. There's no one else I could turn to."
"What are friends for? You help when things get hard."
"...Thank you. Just until this war is over — please look after my son."
"Oh, come now! Your son? You, the doting father of a daughter, sent your girl to our eastern estate to recuperate, didn't you?"
"Ah, right. My son? What am I saying. Haha..."
That was it, then.
Turn the boy into a girl. A very simple, very cheap method.
Bribing the conscription officer would surely have been easier than forging a brand-new identity for a child who had never been born. But Father politely declined my suggestion, insisting that in times like these, bribes were for small-time operators.
"So then... I shouldn't call him Leopold anymore. It's Miss Katrina now, is that right?"
"Yes, that's correct, Count..."
"I always thought he looked rather girlish, but dressed like this, she's every inch a young lady."
"Haha — our boy always did have a pretty face!"
"You—!"
"Right, right. Our daughter—"
Father corrected himself with an awkward laugh and carried on. Was he actually forcing himself to say that?
At any rate, the two old men's tedious conversation dragged on and on. Bored, I turned my head to look around the mansion, and caught my own reflection in the window.
It was a little ridiculous to say it myself, but the person in the glass was a lovely young lady. I'd always been told I had a pretty, feminine face. Add a woman's dress and hair that fell to the shoulders, and no one would ever guess I was a man.
...For the record, neither the clothes nor the hair were mine. The dress had been thrown together in a hurry, and the hair was courtesy of a magical tool. As if a real man like me would have some creepy hobby like cross-dressing.
"Hmm. Look at the time... I really should be going."
"You're leaving?"
"I have to. You'll be all right on your own without Daddy, won't you?"
"Ugh... please don't be disgusting."
"Haha — well, I suppose I don't need to worry about my daughter."
Father left the estate still teasing me to the very end. That left me, Count Arnold, and a handful of maids standing in the garden.
"......"
"......"
The moment Father was gone, an awkward silence settled over us. Honestly, Father and the Count were close. The Count and I? We were just a father's friend and a friend's son. If you really thought about it, I was a nuisance dumped on him by Father's unreasonable request.
I was wondering whether I ought to drop to my knees and offer my neck in that Eastern-style apology when Count Arnold spoke first.
"Ah... Miss Katrina?"
"Yes?"
"Shall we head inside?"
Fortunately, Count Arnold was a good man.
"I was troubled when I first received the request, but I couldn't refuse a close friend. I'd have asked the same thing in his place, and if I had, Hans would have done the same for me. Now that you're here, I hope you'll be comfortable, Leopold."
I'd honestly wondered if anyone who was friends with my father might have a few screws loose. But he really was a good man. Good enough to be friends with my father, even.
"My daughter knows the whole situation, so you needn't worry. I'm sure she'll help you settle in here."
We talked of this and that as we arrived at the detached villa where I would be staying. It seemed like a decision made to hide the fact that I was a man. A building set apart from the main house, with its swarm of servants, was the safer choice.
"It's modest, but you'll find everything you need. If you require a servant, just ring this bell."
"Modest? I'm grateful for your consideration."
"No need for thanks. You must be tired from the journey. Rest well tonight."
When the Count left, I was alone in the villa.
"Hah — I'm exhausted."
I stripped off the cumbersome clothes and the magical tool and collapsed onto the bed. I hadn't even done anything, and I was completely drained. I was going to have to live like this until the war ended... The future looked bleak. Half a day of this had already worn me out. And I might have to keep it up for months. Years, even.
...Still better than dying for nothing.
I knew even that was a privileged complaint. At least this wasn't a barracks with bombs falling on it. The bed I was lying on, wallowing in self-pity, was far too soft for that.
Right. Instead of lying here feeling sorry for myself, I should set a goal: settle in at this estate and stay out of trouble. I had a mission, after all — no one could find out I was cross-dressing.
"Son, I'm sure you'll manage on your own, but... you must never let anyone discover who you really are. Draft evasion in times like these is a grave crime against the will of the royal family, and the reward for reporting it is enormous. There's a massive bounty, and the press won't sit still. If the target happens to be an army officer's son... they'll tear us apart the first chance they get. So don't get caught. Never."
Father had told me not to get caught for the sake of his position as an army officer and the family's reputation. But I had another reason of my own.
If I got caught, the papers would run me as the pathetic coward who put on a dress just to stay out of the army. Which... was true. But I would absolutely rather not have an article like that written about me. Social death scared me more than prison ever could.
I put the magical tool back on. My hair lengthened. The pitch of my voice rose a fraction. A visceral revulsion hit me, along with a crashing sense of unreality — but I needed to get used to it. What if I let my guard down just because I was in my room, and someone walked in?
Knock, knock, knock—
"Miss Katrina?"
See? Exactly like that.
"Is something the matter?"
"Lady Veronica would like to see you."
Veronica? Why would the Count's only daughter want to see me all of a sudden?
"Ah... may I ask why?"
"I'm sorry. I wasn't told that much."
What was this about? Did she just want to get a look at my face? I wasn't busy, and there was no harm in getting on friendly terms...
"Just a moment. I'll be right out."
I threw on an outer layer and followed the maid toward the main house.
"......?"
"Miss, is something wrong?"
"...No. Let's go."
Just now, I could have sworn someone was watching me from above. A trick of the mind, maybe. I started walking again, falling in behind the maid.
"Starting next week, Hans's son Leopold will be staying at our estate."
"At our estate?"
"Yes. Only until the war is over."
Veronica showed no particular reaction to the news that Leopold was coming. She simply went on with her meal.
"There's a complication, though. He'll be arriving in women's clothes."
At her father's words, Veronica's shoulder gave a sudden twitch. Until then she had been listening in silence.
"...What?"
"Hans's boy was added to the conscription rolls. It seems they decided to act before the army could come for him."
"Draft evasion, in times like these? That's a hanging offense."
"Even so, I couldn't simply stand by and watch a friend's son get dragged off to the front."
"......"
"I know it will be uncomfortable, suddenly living under the same roof as a boy your own age. I'm sorry I couldn't discuss it with you first."
"No. It's all right, Father."
Veronica kept her expression as even as she could. She finished her meal and returned to her room.
"Shall I look into this cross-dressing man who's coming to stay?"
"No. It's fine, Emma."
Veronica propped her chin on one hand and tapped her cheek with her thumb. Emma, who knew exactly what that gesture meant, quietly withdrew from the room.
Veronica had been watching Leopold from the moment he set foot on the estate — from the instant he stepped down from the carriage, all the way to the moment he left the detached villa to come and see her.
Knock, knock, knock—
"Lady Veronica, I've brought Miss Katrina."
"Come in."
And she thought: a reunion with a puppy she hadn't seen in so long was the best thing there was.