7 — A Wardrobe Full Of Clothes

* * *

Some hours later, we prepared for the festival.

Yes, we were dressing ourselves neatly to commemorate Sage Day. A sacrilegious ceremony for all magicians—or so I liked to call it, mostly because it amused me to mock the whole affair—and an amusing festival like no other.

A day when commoners and royals gathered together.

Rare. Extremely rare.

People from towns and cities alike blended together, not worrying about discrimination, let alone status. I hope one day the people of this Kingdom will open their eyes to the unity they've been missing.

Anyway, that swording wasn't for nothing. Lily told me it was good for practice and improvement.

I used to be her sparring partner in the Extra about a year ago. I had stopped after my magic disappeared—not because I wanted to, but because I couldn't stand being in that training hall anymore, watching everyone else succeed at the thing I had lost. Lily had never asked why. She had simply let me go. And then, today, I had come back.

She hadn't said a word about the gap. She had just handed me a wooden sword and taken her stance.

That was Lily. She never made me explain myself.

"You ready?" Lily asked while fixing her dress.

I simply nodded.

She was wearing a white blouse with a dark blue ribbon tie around her neck, along with a dark blue skirt. Oh, and a tiny white ribbon adorning her long black hair.

Reckless as she is, she still knows how to appear modest.

Me? I have no idea what 'fashion' really means.

"Uh, Clara..."

"What?"

"Have you ever considered wearing something other than our uniform?"

I shook my head, and she couldn't help but sigh.

"I mean hey, listen..."

"I know you're the Student Council President, but you wear the same thing every single day!"

I tilted my head in confusion.

"So?"

Hearing that, she held her head with her right hand.

"So? Don't you have anything to wear other than that?"

Ah, right...

"Uh, lots."

I could barely form an answer.

"Lots, you said? Why don't you show me?" She leaned closer.

I didn't know how to explain it precisely, but after both of my parents were buried, many people gave me clothes. Consolation gifts, mostly. Dresses I would never wear, shoes that pinched, hats that made me look like someone else entirely. My foster parents—my uncle and aunt—had loved me so much that they had given me an entire wardrobe, as if fabric could replace what I had lost.

So... without any further ado, I showed her.

"..."

"Uh..."

I feel you. Me too.

Lily was too speechless to even complete her reaction.

That was my exact same reaction when I received those.

I would imagine her saying, "You could get yourself into any royal banquet with all of these!" or even, "You would look so elegant and professional with those attires!"

But no, I didn't even know nor care about fashion!

"Clara..."

"Do you want a brutal response or the most truthful one?"

Aren't they the same thing? What's the difference?

At this point, whatever my answer was, it would make zero difference.

"I prefer your utmost ruthlessness at this point. Say what you will."

I sighed, almost resigned.

Giving her such permission must be illegal. Or maybe I would regret this immediately. However, it would cause me no emotional harm whatsoever.

"I grew envious of your wardrobe."

Oh, that's it? Thanks!

I mean, no! I was preparing for the worst!

My composure held, though I felt my face redden.

"Thanks..."

I was blushing when I said that, wasn't I?

She overlooked my gratitude and picked some clothes, fitting me into one of them.

"Maybe this looks way more proper, fitting enough to temper your edges."

"Wanna give it a try?"

Too kind. Way too generous.

It seemed a little overbearing for me, both her demeanor and her choice.

Well, 'underbearing' would have been preferable if I were to coin a new term.

"Sure."

Long story short, I went with Lily's choice.

It was a pale blue dress fastened with a neat knot, accented with white, along with a round white hat, a necklace covering my neck, and a pair of long socks and shoes.

The kind that made me feel more like a princess than a council president.

Way too elegant for my liking. No, way too eye-catching too.

"Master, you look so beautiful!"

Myra complimented me in admiration.

She must have been wondering where that came from.

"Of course she is."

That bloody smirk.

It always got me, the way she preemptively bragged in front of my maid.

But this time, she had indeed helped me with the whole thing.

I didn't know how to tie these... outfit... undergarments... or whatever they were.

Yet her knowledge of fashion somehow managed to shock me.

"Oh, Lily helped you too? That's nice!"

Myra replied earnestly.

"Thank you so much. You too, Myra."

I couldn't believe I was saying this, but my, my, she looked so adorable! That orange-yellowish gown complemented her fiery personality. Wait, hold on…

Did Myra just say Lily helped her too?

"Hehe, thanks, Master! Lily also picked this for me."

Oh, great. Guess I'm not alone—

"But I did everything by myself."

Ah... of course, I'm always the most useless one here no matter what.

Never mind. Maybe I should start learning more about fashion these days.

"You girls look so well-refined!"

That compliment came out of nowhere... or maybe it didn't at all.

We were near the academy gate by then, waiting for the ceremony procession to begin. The afternoon crowd had thickened, students and citizens alike streaming toward the main plaza. The air smelled of roasted nuts and cold stone.

"Thanks, Professor Mel," Lily replied while holding her chest gracefully.

Hearing that, Melia's eyes softened into a smile before her red-stained lips followed.

"You are very welcome, my dearest students. I also would like to apologize for what happened earlier. I was a bit too emotional. And you should've known better."

"Especially when you are of royalty. So, don't repeat that again."

"Do you both understand?"

Almost simultaneously, Lily and I nodded. Myra did too, despite not knowing why.

"Mireille, you don't need to be involved in this."

"B-but, they both are my friends too!"

Melia chuckled immediately.

To be honest, I had to try my best not to cover my face.

Oh, right. Maybe that wasn't what I wanted to hear from either of them.

"Professor—"

The full sentence was never spoken aloud as Melia immediately cut me off.

"Ah, right! On that matter..."

"Professor Renville and I talked about that telepathic record you gave us."

"But one question..."

"Are you sure you weren't mistaken?"

As always, she was perceptive when it came to catching things like this.

I simply nodded before posing yet another question.

"I never was. Someone must have played with Myra's mind."

"Why did you think I was?"

I said while hugging Myra, patting her gracefully like the beloved pet she was.

"Because, according to the observatory room's records, we never traced any specific magic relating to all of that. Everything was normal. Even the Gatekeeper functioned properly."

That's... bizarre.

Just how skilled could a magician be?

No, this was way too impossible.

Something felt inhuman about all of this to me.

But I didn't say that last part out loud.

What I said instead was: "I see. Then perhaps I was mistaken after all."

The words tasted like ash in my mouth. I had seen the memory. I had seen the woman with the white-and-silver hair. I had watched her reach into Myra's spirit and pull pieces out like she was gutting a fish. I knew what I had seen. But if the observatory records showed nothing—if the Gatekeeper itself had registered no anomaly—then either the spell was beyond anything the academy could detect, or someone had tampered with the records too.

Either way, telling Melia the truth would only warn the culprit.

So I lied.

"I must have misread the fragment," I said. "Memory magic is delicate. I'm not trained in it. It's possible I saw something that wasn't there."

Melia studied me for a long moment. Her red eyes were unreadable.

"Possible," she said. "But not likely. You're many things, Clara, but you're not careless."

"Maybe I'm becoming careless."

"Maybe." She tilted her head, and her white-silver hair shifted like moonlight on water. "Or maybe you're lying to me."

I kept my face blank.

"Why would I lie?"

"I don't know. That's what concerns me."

She held my gaze for another second, then turned away.

"Enjoy the festival, girls. And Mireille—stay close to them. The crowd will be large tonight."

She walked off into the crowd, her long black gown disappearing between the bodies of students and citizens. I watched her go until I couldn't see her anymore.

Lily leaned close to my ear.

"You lied."

"I know."

"Why?"

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I looked down at Myra, who was clinging to my sleeve with both hands, her ears flat against her head.

Because she remembered.

Because the white lady had told her to forget, and she hadn't.

Because whoever had done this had made a mistake.

And mistakes could be exploited.

"Because," I said finally, "if I told her the truth, she would have asked more questions. And I don't know yet if she's the one I should be answering to."

Lily was quiet for a moment. Then she nodded.

"Alright. I'll follow your lead."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Just don't get us killed."

"No promises."

She snorted. It was almost a laugh.

We walked toward the plaza together, Myra between us, the festival lights beginning to glow against the darkening sky. Somewhere in the crowd, a woman with white-and-silver hair was walking away, and I was letting her go.

For now.

Because tonight, I had a ceremony to attend. A Sage to commemorate. A festival to survive.

And after that, I was going to find out who had hurt my fox spirit.

Even if it was the last thing I ever did.

...