5. Nobility
After that, Olivier and Shaylin attended parties every single day, staying out until late at night and only returning to the Loren residence deep into the early hours of the morning, clutching their swollen feet tortured by high heels all night long.
Evril only joined them a couple of times, claiming she wasn't feeling well and holing up in her room at the house the whole time.
In the meantime, the year had changed. The two of them spent the mad New Year's Eve and welcoming party at the grand mansion on Poenneu Street, returning home at dawn utterly exhausted from fatigue.
They slept in late the next day due to the hangover from the previous night's revelry and barely crossed paths with Olivier at lunch. When she expressed worry over Evril, who had been practically shut away and hadn't even attended the New Year's party, Evril smiled gracefully and said it was fine—attending those parties would just make her fodder for petty gossip in the Ashdon social circles anyway.
Shaylin chimed in, supporting Evril's seclusion by noting that even at parties Evril skipped, people swarmed her with questions about the next duchess's fashion and demeanor, so staying home was a great way to dodge the rumors.
Olens only went out once or twice; otherwise, he seemed to stay cooped up in his room. Every time they met at lunch, Shaylin would glance at Olens, who looked a bit more haggard each day, flash a subtle smile, and turn to Evril.
"Lady Evril must be well-suited to Eliyum's air. Your skin is glowing more each day—it's downright enviable. By the way, is Lord Belpharos unwell? He looks utterly fatigued lately."
At Shaylin's faux-concerned inquiry laced with mischief, Evril firmly shook her head. She met those meaningful smiles and gazes with brazen nonchalance. Finally, the evening before the one-week mark since arriving in Eliyum, she ordered a nourishing dish from the head chef out of worry for Olens's health.
The next day's lunch featured Eliyum's specialty, escargot—plump snails renowned for boosting stamina, piled high on a massive platter at the center of the table, wafting rich scents of butter and herbs.
The servants portioned them onto individual plates. Olivier wrinkled her nose at the unfamiliar sight, but as everyone else began eating calmly, she tentatively picked up her fork.
"Phew, I'm really no good with these. Why are snail shells so hard and round?"
As Shaylin spoke, she clamped a thumb-sized snail with special tongs and tried to pry it out with her fork. Each time, her grip slipped, sending the snail shooting off in all directions. On her final attempt—which she declared her last—the snail flew free again, sailing across the room to splatter against Emily, who had been standing by the wall.
Shaylin shrugged and gave up on the escargot. In the process, Emily's maid uniform was ruined, soaked through with parsley butter sauce from inside the shell.
After that disastrous lunch, Shaylin was resting in the drawing room when she perked up at the worried voices of Emily and Olivier approaching from behind.
"Hmm, what to do? I can't go out for party preparations later, so I was going to send you instead."
"Can't I just go like this?"
"In Eliyum? No way, absolutely not. Wandering around in a filthy maid outfit—if word gets out that you're from the Loren family, it'll embarrass all the ladies here. Don't you have any spare clothes?"
"I sent them to the laundry this morning, but I saw them hanging in the back garden earlier."
"Going to the Paralroma shop in your everyday clothes would be a stretch too..."
Olivier trailed off, recalling the shop's atmosphere where even the staff dressed impeccably. Emily's dress might pass in some rural backwater, but it clashed horribly with Eliyum's glamour—and as her mistress, Olivier would die of shame.
Having overheard their fretting, Shaylin rose from the drawing room sofa and approached them. Already grasping the situation, she eyed Emily with intrigued curiosity.
Maids usually faded into the background like shadows, so one noble rarely paid attention to another's servant. But this girl Emily was around Olivier's age, strikingly pretty even without makeup, with unusual platinum hair and a height similar to Shaylin's own—making her stand out from afar.
Emily stood rigidly tense under Shaylin's gaze. Shaylin looked her up and down carefully before speaking.
"Olivier's maid—is her name Emily?"
"Yes. Emily."
"I see. Emily, Laura's clothes would be too loose, and Lisa's too small to fit. Looking you over closely, it seems I'm the only one here with a similar build. Olivier's dresses wouldn't suit your chest—they'd gape open. And Evril's are too long; they'd drag on the floor. Mine match your height and frame best."
With that, Shaylin beckoned them to follow. As Olivier and Emily trailed after her into her room, Shaylin ordered her maid Laura to fetch a simple day dress from the dressing room.
Laura rummaged for a while before emerging with a blue dress.
"I'll lend you my dress. That naughty snail played its part, but I share the blame too—so please accept without refusing."
At Shaylin's kind yet insistent plea, Olivier nodded toward Emily. A maid wearing her lady's clothes went against etiquette and social norms, but they had until 5 p.m. to pick up the handkerchiefs reserved on the waiting list a week ago at Paralroma's Eliyum branch—no choice.
With Laura's help, Emily shed her stained brown maid uniform and changed into the blue dress. As she removed her uniform, Shaylin pointed out that her bonnet clashed with the blue, so off it came too.
Her short-cropped platinum blonde hair tumbled free, transforming her appearance into something breathtaking. Yet the boyish cut made her look androgynous against the feminine design of the dress.
Shaylin tilted her head, pondering how to harmonize the outfit with Emily's looks.
"Could you fetch a corsage headband and a wide jewel band?"
Laura hurried to the dressing room drawers and returned with the items. The white corsage headband suited her but overwhelmed her small face with its large flower. Next came the palm-wide jewel band; it tucked the short hair ends neatly inside, lending a more feminine polish.
Shaylin looked pleased, glancing around for nods of approval. Olivier gasped in admiration at Emily's suddenly womanly allure, while Laura—unused to seeing a maid in high-noble finery—praised her beauty with wide-eyed curiosity.
In Laura's eyes, Emily could pass for a noble lady anywhere. Hidden until now under drab brown and a bonnet, she now shone: flawless white skin, platinum tresses evoking purity, transparent gray eyes that effortlessly captivated.
Amid nods of satisfaction, Shaylin clapped her hands together.
"Now, take a carriage and head to Citéga without delay. Dressed so prettily, you'll draw every idle noble with nothing but youth and spare time—cover up with a cloak."
Emily donned a long cloak with a large hood that hid all but her chin down to her knees, tucked the coin purse into her bosom, hailed a passing commercial carriage, and set off for Paralroma in Citéga.
When the carriage arrived at Paralroma, she paid the fare and stepped down. Approaching the main entrance, she felt the doorman's quick once-over. Confirming her noble-quality attire, he bowed politely and opened the door. Emily hurried inside.
Telling a first-floor clerk she was there for last week's reservation, she was courteously directed to the second-floor stairs.
Reaching the second-floor landing unfolded the same scene as her prior visit following the ladies—save for a man seated on the central sofa in the vast square hall.
From the back, he looked young and tall, fidgeting restlessly as he scanned the room.
"What was the item from last week's order?"
At the second-floor desk staff's question, Emily replied it was two monogrammed handkerchiefs. The clerk checked the waiting list, then beamed and handed over two prettily wrapped gift boxes in a thick paper bag, asking for a receipt signature.
After signing and paying on the spot, Emily exited Paralroma.
She stood outside trying to hail a commercial carriage, but the early-year bustle clogged the streets—no empty ones in sight.
Resigned, Emily walked slowly toward Poenneu Street, peering for vacant carriages. Focused on craning her neck along the avenue, she lightly bumped into an oncoming pedestrian and hastily apologized for her rudeness.
The man in glossy finery merely tipped his slightly worn hat to signal it was fine and passed by.
To avoid further collisions, she stood there awhile longer, straining to flag a carriage. When she finally caught one, a sudden emptiness struck her.
She clutched the precious paper bag, but the coin purse needed for the ride had vanished without a trace.