The Evil Lady's Hair
Another peaceful morning in the young lady's room.
"Eek..!"
The young lady, sitting on the bed, was having her hair brushed while enjoying the cool breeze. As the brush slowly glided through, untangling her knotted locks, she furrowed her brows and let out strange noises.
"Eeek!"
"Anyone who saw this would think I was abusing a noble."
"Right!"
"No, miss."
Her hair had a slight natural wave, making it fluffy and resistant to easy brushing. It was like a noble's passive skill—without a servant, it would frizz up wildly. The young lady's hair always needed her butler's touch.
"Eeeek! Don't pull!"
"I'm not pulling; your head's just coming along for the ride."
"Eeek!"
Her head kept jerking forward and back with each stroke of the brush. Watching her bob like that, I couldn't hold back a laugh.
"Stop... I said don't move!"
"You're moving because I'm pulling!"
"That's why I told you to sit still and brace yourself."
"No way! Too annoying!"
As I endlessly brushed her hair—soft as a puppy's fur—a sudden urge hit me to play around with it. I was bored. It'd be fun. No intention of asking permission, but for courtesy's sake, I decided to check with her anyway as I started braiding strand by strand.
"Why'd you stop?"
She turned her head at the sudden pause, ready to throw a noble's tantrum about the brushing halting. Her pouty expression made me smile faintly.
"Miss."
"Yeah?"
"How about I turn your hair into a work of art today?"
"Like a barbarian?"
"No, not a chicken crest. Something calmer, more elegant and refined."
"Hmm."
She pursed her lips, lost in thought. She'd only ever worn long, straight hair, so new styles weren't her thing. Back in her Desmont villainess days, surrounded by servants, she'd tried drills, but never commoner styles. Her eyes lit up with curiosity and expectation as she nodded.
But.
She also hated anything fussy. Staring out the window, she grumbled flatly.
"No one's gonna see it anyway. Why bother."
I swept back her pouting, sulky hair and said softly,
"Aren't I here?"
"Who?"
Smiling, I pointed to the handsomest face in the world.
"Me."
"...Boring."
"Doesn't a little beauty experiment make for a nice change of pace sometimes?"
She slowly nodded at my persuasion. Seemed like a decent idea after all; she was intrigued. I smiled at her back as she sat still, letting me work.
Smoothly.
Her hair parted easily under my fingertips as I braided to the side. She said nothing, entrusting it to me. Then added a hopeful note.
"Make it pretty."
"Of course."
"Not that pineapple ponytail from when I was little."
"..."
A snicker escaped at her sharp jab, still remembering that old prank.
"Got it."
I worked her hair as the breeze blew in from the window. Strands tickled my face, but I left it open, seeing her blissed-out expression, mouth agape, savoring the wind. The weather was nice today. Late winter, but warmer than expected—the breeze lifted our moods.
After the clock's minute hand had ticked twice around.
A small hand mirror appeared before the drowsy young lady, whose head was nodding off.
"Hmnya... oh!"
Seeing her sleepy self, she wiped drool from her mouth with her sleeve and shook her head.
"Don't shake so much. You'll ruin it."
"Huh?"
"Ta-da…!"
Only then did she look at her hair. Taking the mirror, she let out a soft "Wow" and examined the change.
"It took longer since I'm out of practice. What do you think?"
"Wow..."
"Wanted to do the pineapple midway, but held back."
She peered at her side in the mirror, eyes widening. Carefully turning her head to admire the subtle braid, she looked enchanted. I couldn't help smiling.
"It's so cool. Super pretty."
"You think so?"
"Yeah."
"Glad you like it."
With the braided side sweeping her long hair lightly, and loose waves cascading down, it evoked a fantasy elf—nothing childish like Pippi Longstocking's wild mop. Turning fully, she checked herself in the full-length mirror I'd prepared.
Good call on the big mirror.
"It's really pretty."
"Right?"
"Mhm."
Confirming her new 'do from behind via the hand mirror against the big one, she beamed. Mission accomplished—I'd always wanted to try this, and she loved it. Shame about the ratty attachment pajamas, but the casual vibe suited her.
After admiring for a while, she turned with a joyful smile.
"Am I pretty?"
"Yes."
"How pretty?"
"The most beautiful in the world."
"This much!?"
"No."
I drew a bigger circle than hers with my hands.
"This beautiful."
"Heehee..!"
"Why are you laughing?"
"Just. Feels good."
Grinning ear to ear, she buried her flushing face in the blanket, shaking her head no-no. Then, with a smirk, she quipped shamelessly, "I know I'm pretty," pure villainess audacity. I burst out laughing.
After giggling forever, she grabbed my sleeve and yanked me toward the bed.
"Ricardo, come here!"
"Me?"
"Yeah! I'll make you pretty too!"
"No need. I'm handsome enough as is."
"Eeek! Get over here!"
"No thanks."
"Why not!"
"Scared to entrust my hair to the miss's destructive hands."
"Eek!"
Stunned by my brutally honest answer, she huffed and denied it fiercely.
"Nuh-uh! My hands are super skilled."
"Don't you remember folding that paper crane into a Medusa?"
"No clue."
"..."
True to villainess form, she brushed off the insult like nothing and tugged my sleeve harder. Her stubborn pout screamed she'd sulk all day if I refused. Sighing, I relented and let her pull me over.
-Staring intently, she couldn't hide her twitching lips, lost in imagination. Plotting how to wreck my hair, no doubt. I undid my swept-back locks and offered my head.
"Please do your best."
"Heehee... mhm."
"No laughing."
"Not laughing."
Her serious focus on her "art" made me chuckle helplessly as I closed my eyes.
Smooth.
Her soft touch brought calm; I pictured what monstrosity she'd create. Chicken crest? Topknot? Slicked back? No clue with her zero talent. Better not expect much—pleasant surprise if it's less disastrous.
Biting back laughs at her intense lower-lip chew, drowsiness crept in.
"Done!"
Her triumphant shout snapped me awake. I looked.
"What is this?!"
A grotesque ponytail spiked skyward. I lost it laughing.
"Why!"
She yelled in defense of her masterpiece. "I tied it cute with a rubber band!" Blushing furiously, I pointed at the perky antenna sprouting from my head.
"What is this! I'm not a 10-year-old kid!"
"It's cute! Pretty!"
"Do I look like a kid?! It's creepy on me!"
"Eeek! Look closer!"
Thrusting the mirror:
"Pretty, right?"
"No. Like an alien with antennae."
"Nuh-uh!"
Defending her creation endlessly, she finally cracked with a "Pfft," bursting into laughter.
"Kh!"
"You just laughed."
"Puhahaha!!"
"Oh? Yep."
"Kyahaha! Heehee... hihihi!"
"I said no laughing!"
"Antenna Ricardo...! No, it's just too funny!"
"Ugh..."
Unable to resist each other's absurdity, we howled with laughter until dinner, stifling snickers the whole time.
"Antenna."
"Don't laugh."