"Sister Silver Wing, aren't we going to call the others to come along?"
Looking up at the sign of what appeared to be a well-known clothing brand, Wendy — who was actually a full head taller than the silver-haired girl yet managed to come across like an obedient little sister — pressed both hands together over her chest and spoke in a soft, gentle voice.
A careful observer would have noticed that Wendy's feet maintained a constant two-centimeter gap above the floor. At first glance it looked like walking; in reality, she was floating.
It wasn't that she was lazy like Sister Bronya, floating whenever she could get away with it — it was that after spending six months with paralyzed legs and no walking whatsoever, she'd suddenly recovered and hadn't quite gotten used to it yet.
"Mm, I want to surprise someone, so let's just browse a little first."
Silver Wing held Wendy's soft little hand and said it offhandedly.
Neither Daylight nor Wendy — who had left the [Schicksal] branch in such a hurry — had any spare clothes. Over dinner, Silver Wing had naturally turned to a certain maid who was a [Schicksal] Valkyrie in writing but a degenerate lolicon in practice, asking her which shops she'd recommend for buying clothes for the two of them.
The moment the topic of buying clothes for Little Bianca came up, Rita-Sister lit up like she'd been injected with pure enthusiasm — she stepped forward without hesitation and flew the banner of lolicon pride high, producing a sheet of paper covered in dense, meticulous shopping notes.
These were all places Rita had been planning to take Little Bianca; she often bought clothes from these brands to give to Theresa.
And then…
At this point, Rita-Sister could absolutely use her own ID card and a black-and-white photocopy of it to defuse a bomb — or perhaps it was time for her to move to Gotham City~
Silver Wing shamelessly copied the notes, snuck away behind Rita's back, dragged Wendy along, and came here with Daylight's Auto-Battle switched off.
A single changing-room photo of Little Bianca — only five thousand dollars. What a bargain.
True to form for a shop Rita had selected, the interior décor was exquisite. The floor shimmered with a liquid-gold gleam beneath the rotating overhead lights.
The walls displayed photo albums of Marilyn Monroe and Audrey Hepburn — those ancient beauties had long served as the touchstone of modern nostalgia, and in this day and age, tracking down such archival photography required considerable effort.
"Welcome, all three of you~"
The shop attendant stood with both hands folded over her abdomen, wearing a warm, professional smile. When she caught sight of the trio, her eyes brightened ever so slightly — Valkyrie-caliber looks and bearing were simply in a different league compared to ordinary people, an absolute downtier stomp.
"Is there anything I can help you find today?"
"Hello — where's the children's section?"
"Right this way, please."
Guided by the kind shop assistant, they made their way to the children's section.
Daylight looked around, browsing the cute styles: "I think this one's nice — may I try it on?"
"Of course! Your eye is excellent — this pink puff-skirt is actually a collaboration piece~"
The attendant lifted the dress — complete with a bow-clip hairpin attached — and handed it to Daylight: "Little sister is going to look just like a fairy-tale princess in this!"
That was no empty flattery. The child really was too adorable.
"Thank you."
With a polite thank-you, Daylight carried the skirt over to the full-length mirror, smiled, and switched Auto-Battle on.
She could certainly perform the embarrassment and reluctance of trying on children's clothes herself — but why act when there was a more natural source material available?
Bianca, who had grown fairly accustomed to the one-second body swap by now, was calm enough — right up until she looked in the mirror and saw the adorable little loli holding a pink puff-skirt up against herself.
"Uh, I mean… other me — are you sure you want to buy this kind of skirt?"
Bianca stepped back half a pace while holding the dress up. The mirror reflected the baby-soft roundness of her cheeks wearing an expression of gravity wholly out of place with her age — tinged with a faint, slightly mortified flush — as she muttered under her breath.
Durandal was the type who didn't worry much about age — but wearing this kind of cute children's style in her thirties felt a bit off, didn't it?
And above all else, a skirt was inconvenient for movement!
Playing football. Skateboarding. Neither worked in a skirt.
And also—
Click!
Bianca looked toward the silver-haired girl who had just taken a photo of her flustered expression on her phone, opened her mouth to say something — but Silver Wing had already tucked the phone away and gone off to help Wendy pick out clothes.
[Come on, it's a chance to switch up your style — it might improve your mood too.]
Daylight's voice was light and breezy.
"Hmm, when you put it that way… fine. I'll… try it, I guess?"
After all, it wasn't her own body. The fact that it had been lent to her at all was already something to be grateful for — naturally, in matters of clothing taste and personal habit, she had to defer to the preferences of the body's actual owner.
With that thought, and despite the lingering embarrassment still simmering inside her, Bianca took the pink puff-skirt and stepped into the changing room.
"Wendy, do you want to try this one?"
Silver Wing pointed to a lace formal dress in white.
Her fashion sense and personal style had been first-rate since the Caelus era. An absolutely indispensable passive skill for any self-respecting connoisseur. What kind of SP character has the nerve to call themselves that without at least decent taste in clothes?
"Sure~"
Wendy naturally wasn't going to refuse Sister Bronya's recommendation. She took the dress from the shop attendant and headed to the other changing room.
Before long, however, thumping and clattering sounds came from inside the changing room — the thud of something falling, and Wendy's startled cry.
"Wendy — are you okay?"
Silver Wing didn't hesitate much at all. She swept aside the changing-room curtain and stepped inside.
Inside, the overhead light cast Wendy's skin in a layer of soft luminance like thin glaze. The skin that had spent years wrapped in medical bandages glowed with the cool luster of mother-of-pearl. Her knees — long unaccustomed to bearing weight — showed a faint pink flush beneath the chiffon skirt.
The lace strap on her left shoulder was sliding down porcelain-white skin. A silken teal-green undergarment clung to the girl's slight shoulder blades, cupping their rounded softness, tracing out a graceful silhouette.
When she'd fallen, she'd knocked the long dress off its loosely-hung hanger — and now that bundle of fabric lay draped over her ankles like a shed chrysalis.
From her elevated vantage point, Silver Wing took in the full view — the soft hollow and the snowy expanse — blue-green veins like spring blossoms glimpsed through a layer of ice.
"Sister Bronya, I'm fine — I just lost my balance taking the skirt off."
Like a long-bedridden paraplegic who had suddenly recovered, Wendy had tried to stand on one leg while changing and toppled over.
The heroine tumbling in a changing room and causing the male lead to come rushing in for a fanservice moment is a classic light-novel staple — but Silver Wing, wearing the skin of a beautiful girl, obviously wasn't going to provoke too much bashfulness from Wendy. What was there to be embarrassed about with another girl?
"Let me help you."
Silver Wing helped Wendy up and had her sit down on the cushioned seat inside, then retrieved the fallen dress. As she knelt, her gaze happened to land on Wendy's curled toes — translucent as freshly-shelled lotus seeds, carrying that particular delicate clarity of someone newly recovered from illness.
"Okay… thank you, Sister Silver Wing."
Wendy sat still like a good girl. With the silver-haired girl's assistance she removed the skirt she'd been wearing: "Hmm, should I change into a white bra to match?"
"I think so."
Silver Wing floated up and unhooked a white lace bra from the rack.
Wendy's original undergarment was rather brightly colored — it would show through the white dress.
"Mm-mm~!"
Wendy naturally reached back and unclasped her bra.
Silver Wing suddenly found herself thinking about the strawberry cream cake Rita had made — it had been quite good! She'd have to ask Rita to make more of it once they got back, using Daylight's identity as the excuse.
"This clasp seems a bit unusual… Sister Silver Wing, could you help me do it up?"
After several attempts at reaching behind herself, Wendy couldn't manage to hook the bra clasp. She looked toward the silver-haired girl, mildly sheepish.
"Sure~"
For Silver Wing — who could freely walk into women's bathhouses without anyone batting an eye — the current situation was honestly not much of a thrill.
If Caelus wanted to, he could observe any detail of any female body every single night, studying the scientific differences in physiological structure between the sexes.
It just so happened that due to the time difference between Earth and the Star Rail universe, it was currently night on the Xianzhou — and Caelus was in the middle of his third appreciation session of White Comet Kiana's sinfully lissome waist.
The compounded double-dose of stimulation had all of Caelus's consciousness running in a heightened, emotionally volatile state — including this portion of him that was Silver Wing.
For a fleeting moment, the snow-jade expanse of spine before Silver Wing's eyes seemed to overlap with the image of Kiana arching like a rider in full gallop.
Like a runner whose left leg instinctively follows with the right — pure muscle memory — Silver Wing wrapped her arms around Wendy from behind, threading them under the girl's arms and pulling them closed around her soft waist, fingers interlacing and locking together.
"Eh?! Si-Sister Silver Wing?!"
Silver Wing's sudden move made Wendy go rigid, her voice trembling:
"Wh-what's wrong?"
Feeling the soft warmth pressing against her back, the heat and the tickling sensation at her ear turned the capillaries at the tips of Wendy's ears cherry-red — like the barely-budding petals of early-spring blossoms, caught between opening and not.
"Nothing~ I just suddenly felt like hugging cute little Wendy. Is that okay~?"
A line that would have been outright creepy coming from a man — delivered by a girl wearing a small-angel smile… well. It still sounded kind of creepy. But Wendy made no move to refuse.
Her heartbeat gradually quickened, thundering like a war drum. The rapid, uneven breathing caused the incompletely-fastened front clasp to slip loose, her ear-tips flushed scarlet with rising heat, and the hair-clip nestled in her hair trembled from the friction, on the verge of falling out.
"Of — of course you can."
Wendy naturally wasn't going to refuse — and then, driven by the heat fogging her head, she said something almost against her own will: "Could you… hold me a little tighter?"
Even in her emotionally unstable state, Silver Wing could tell that something was off about Wendy. More off than usual. More off than Silver Wing herself.
She paused for two seconds — and then the expression on the silver-haired girl's face gradually shifted into something complicated.
She decided to run a little experiment. Never mind waiting for Rita's strawberry cake — she'd have a taste right now.
"Ngh—!!"
...
Three minutes later, Silver Wing stepped out of the changing room.
Something was wrong. Wendy was very, very off.
She discreetly wiped the glistening dampness from her fingertips — a result of Silver Wing biting down hard…
She took a deep breath, steadying the emotions that had been stirred up by her other self, then pulled out her phone and walked over to Little Bianca in front of the full-length mirror, pointing at an item displayed in the window.
"Bianca, I think this outfit would suit you perfectly right now."
"Hm? That… is that a puff-sleeve princess dress?"
Bianca's eye twitched.
"And also this one…"
"That looks like a kindergarten recital costume…"
"Oh, and we'll need pyjamas too — what do you think of these dinosaur pyjamas? Look, the tail doubles as a pillow!"
"…"
Is anyone even listening to what I'm saying?
That said.
"These dinosaur pyjamas do look kind of nice, actually."
"Right?! Come on, try them on!"
"Wait — hold on."
"And this top paired with black thigh-highs — oh, and this hat too."
Silver Wing raised her phone. These photos — sold to Rita-Sister, they'd fetch at least ten thousand dollars a piece. Little rich lady Rita wouldn't even blink.
____
________________________________________
If you want more chapters, please consider supporting my page on (P). with 50 advanced chapters available on (P)
👻 Join the crew by searching Leanzin on (P). You know the spot! 😉