"This one, then!" Hilda said cheerfully.
"I made it two years ago. Sylphy's figure is very petite, so it might be a little loose on you—but that slightly lazy silhouette is quite popular in the royal capital right now. I think it suits you perfectly."
Sylphy's eyes widened, and she shook her head wildly! A gesture that resembled Allen's Sword God Style!
"L-L-L-Lady Hilda! Allen and the others are still outside! This is too much!"
Her flustered words hadn't even finished when she turned to flee—only to smack her head into the nearby wall.
Staggering in place, she clutched her forehead in pain.
It took a while before she peeked up at Hilda, her face burning red.
Hilda chuckled softly and shook her head.
She withdrew her hand from the evening gown and placed it on a moonlight-colored dress with a corset waist.
"Then how about this one? I made it for Eris three years ago. But when I asked her to come look at it, she wouldn't even step into the room… That girl. Haha. Now, I think the size should fit you perfectly. Do you like this color?"
Sylphy blinked and stared at the moonlight-hued dress.
"I… I do like it… but wouldn't it be too presumptuous to wear something made by you, Lady Hilda?"
"But it's never been worn by anyone before. Wouldn't it be wonderful if you were the first? To bring it out of this dim, dusty closet—"
"To let it see the sun."
A warm smile bloomed at the corners of Hilda's eyes.
Sylphy was taken aback.
Before she could respond, Hilda had already picked up the dress and held it in front of Sylphy to measure it.
"It suits you perfectly."
Her eyes shimmered with anticipation as she looked at Sylphy.
Sylphy hesitated for a moment, then carefully reached out to accept the dress.
They stood in silence for a moment, gazing into each other's eyes.
Hilda blinked.
"Are you shy about changing in front of me because we haven't met many times?"
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked out.
"I'll wait outside."
"Okay…"
As the door closed, Sylphy glanced again at the particularly 'bold' evening gown in the wardrobe and instinctively shrank back.
The color was one she liked…
But it was just too…
She looked down at the moonlight-colored dress in her hands, and a small smile appeared in her eyes.
She turned.
Beside her stood a tall, full-body mirror.
In the mirror—
A girl with white hair and red eyes stood in a soaked white dress that clung tightly to her skin. Her back and shoulders looked a little delicate, her collarbones extending gently from her neck into a soft ridge.
The developing curve of her waist and hips was smooth and graceful, revealing a subtle girlish charm.
Unlike her slender arms and calves—
Her thighs were slightly plump, with the alluring leg-and-hip shape common among long-ear tribes. Her white garter straps clung tightly to her skin, leaving faint red marks from prolonged wear.
"Phew…"
Sylphy touched the garters and found they were dry. She sighed in relief. Lilia had matched these garters specifically for this dress, saying they suited her well. Apparently, they were also used for maid uniforms, though Sylphy always found the sizing a bit odd for Lilia herself…
She had originally tried them once and planned to return them, but Allen had "accidentally" walked in, praised her endlessly, and…
She ended up keeping them.
She only had two pairs.
So she usually didn't wear them on rainy days. Today's weather had been good, so she brought them out again.
Sylphy stared into the mirror for a long while before exhaling softly.
She crossed her arms in front of her, gripped the soaked hem of her dress, and slowly lifted it.
Sunlight poured into the room through the window.
The transparent skirt glided upward.
Her skin was pale—
Even paler and rosier than the water-stained fabric.
Softer. More delicate.
Plop. The wet dress dropped onto the back of a nearby chair.
Barefoot, she stepped onto the soft carpet, her toes—still clad in white stockings—sinking slightly.
Then lifted again.
One step.
Two steps.
With the faint creak of the carpet, she reached the wardrobe.
Her hand reached toward the moonlight-colored dress.
The texture was distinctly different from what she had worn before.
A bit stiff to the touch—but incredibly soft.
This was the result of high thread count combined with fine material.
As she lifted the dress, her eyes darted to the bold evening gown near the side of the wardrobe—and quickly averted.
But her hand paused.
Her gaze returned.
Her reddish-brown pupils widened slightly, as if she had noticed something shocking.
Moments later.
Sylphy slowly reached out—
And opened the other half of the wardrobe door.
What met her eyes—
Was row after row of beautifully crafted clothing, tightly packed on the other side of the wardrobe.
Men's clothing.
From small child-sized outfits to adult wear, covering all ages.
Stiff hunting coats; fur-trimmed robes; neatly tailored black tuxedos.
Crisp white shirts; well-made soft sleeves; smooth, high-quality trousers.
The stitching grew more refined.
The fabrics more exquisite.
At that moment—
As Sylphy looked at the clothes, it felt as though she was seeing the "passage of time."
It flowed through every seam, every thread.
Revealing why Hilda had such excellent tailoring skills.
Why even after marrying into the Boreas family, she still held onto this hobby.
It also revealed—
Her endless years of unfulfilled hopes.
Because—
These clothes were brand new.
Never worn by anyone.
Sylphy's fingers trembled. She wanted to touch them, but finally withdrew her hand.
A wave of understanding surged in her heart.
Why did Hilda invite Allen too?
Because—
She wanted the boy who so closely resembled her own child…
To help "try on" these clothes.
These—
Countless nights of expectation built up over more than a decade…
That had never once been worn.
—
Outside the door, Hilda stood, gazing at the treetop outside the window.
Whenever she was alone, she would often do this.
New maids would sometimes blush and whisper, "Madam's eyes seem so distant… but warm."
Hilda would simply smile softly, offering no explanation.
But at this moment—
If one looked closely at her eyes, they would understand where that "distant" feeling came from.
Because her gaze wasn't fixed on the treetop.
The leaves rustled in the wind, their sound drifting through the open window.
But Hilda's eyes remained still.
She was looking far—far away.
The tree stood on the west side of the house, only half-shielding the sunlight.
To the west of Fittoa.
Far beyond.
Was the royal capital of Asura.
And this tree—
She had planted it eleven years ago.
She—
Had watched it grow.
(End of Chapter)
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