Now that she had a place to stay, Ais should have moved on to the next step. Instead she slumped in the chair and found she didn't want to move. Not from exhaustion — more from a reluctance to face what came next.
Beklund had a population of over five million, but Ais couldn't afford to be complacent about the Deacon's specific warning. Better to err on the side of caution.
There was no need to be paranoid about it, but the details that needed attending to couldn't be neglected. Keeping her distance from the upper class and the wealthy was only the most obvious step. To avoid that group of women with nothing in their heads but schemes to force men to drink the Witch potion, the best strategy was simply to act like a normal woman.
At minimum, she couldn't have too many obvious tells that would make people suspicious and talking. Otherwise, a passing Witch might stumble across her one day, and she'd be in trouble all over again.
So even if she intended to present herself as someone relatively indifferent to men and not particularly vain about her appearance, even if a Witch's beauty was innate and her charm naturally hard to diminish — cosmetics, skincare products, and the other things ordinary women kept were still non-negotiable. She just needed to make it look like she'd applied them.
Similarly, clothing, skirts, and jewelry: not necessarily a lot, and not necessarily expensive, but having none at all was too suspicious.
The logic was sound — Ais understood that keeping up appearances was necessary to avoid unnecessary trouble. She just didn't feel like getting up and dealing with it.
The thought of buying all those things, of having to learn things she'd never need but which counted as common knowledge for women — it made her want to scream internally:
"Ugh! How did that woman manage to go so thoroughly native?"
It had been over two weeks. She'd grown quite used to her body. But now that she'd regained her freedom and been exposed to ordinary people for the first time today, Ais realized that truly adapting to a female identity was still going to take some effort — even if her status as an Extraordinary meant she didn't have to worry about many of the things ordinary women faced daily.
After going back and forth on it, she decided to start with the practical necessities and leave the impractical feminine purchases for last.
The only thing motivating her to get up was the thought that her entire net worth was the 269 pounds, 6 sous, and 5 pence currently on her person. That finally got her off the chair and out the door.
The extra few sous had mostly gone toward what Ais had assumed the Watchers had forgotten — her prison meals.
Since she planned to present herself openly as a female private detective, which suited the image of someone not particularly concerned with appearances, her clothing purchases differed from the average woman's: two deerstalker caps, two plaid thin coats, three shirts and waistcoats, three pairs of trousers, and three pairs of leather boots. She also picked up a pair of round-framed glasses with minimal prescription.
She did remember to buy two skirts. Then, following recommendations from a women's fashion magazine, she purchased a basic set of cosmetics and skincare products.
After swapping in a silver pocket watch, Ais tallied up what remained and found she'd already spent a full 34 pounds.
"A poor detective just arrived in the big city. What business does she have buying jewelry."
She decided against it.
Carrying her considerable haul back to the newly rented house, she felt not even a flicker of retail satisfaction. Looking at the three guest rooms in the spacious sitting room — and remembering there were four more bedrooms upstairs — the feeling of having spent a great deal of money entirely unnecessarily only grew stronger.
She closed her eyes briefly, then marched upstairs. After dumping the pile of clothes on the bed in the room closest to the washroom, she went into the washroom to clear her head and try on the new things.
"Should I get a big wooden tub? Soaking in one would be wonderful. And with a Witch's ice, there's no risk of it tipping over."
The thought surfaced while she was bathing, and the more she entertained it, the more appealing it became. Where to put it was no problem either — this house had three washrooms.
Thanks to the Witch potion's gift of natural beauty, Ais felt less like she was washing herself and more like she was appreciating how soft her hair was and how smooth her skin had become. Less than half an hour later, she was back in the bedroom wrapped in a towel.
She was tilting her head to dry her hair with a towel when she caught her own reflection — barefoot, one shoulder exposed. No appreciative thoughts arose on her own account, but years of prior experience gave her a perfectly good sense of how a man would see her right now.
Recalling the greedy, possessive stares she'd felt on the street earlier that day, a small flicker of unease ran through her. She was quite certain there was no one else in the house — but that small unease was enough to make her dress quickly.
A moment later, Ais looked in the mirror at herself in the brown-yellow deerstalker cap and matching plaid coat and found herself unexpectedly thinking: I don't look bad in anything anymore, do I.
The outfit was understated as daily work wear — apart from the black boots and white shirt, the waistcoat and trousers were the same near-matching color, which made it slightly monotonous. But Ais's face and figure were at a level that could generously be called supermodel among ordinary people, so the overall impression was still quite presentable.
"The hair's too long for the hat. Next time I go out, get it cut short."
She took off the deerstalker cap and glanced at her chest. Quietly, she fastened the coat's buttons up to the chest and made a private resolution to never undo them when going out.
She put on the round-framed glasses. She didn't look worse for it — but Ais felt that if she held her expression still, she could probably come across as reasonably composed and sharp.
"The thing is, as a detective, I solve crimes through divination, examine bodies through necromancy, and consult the dead for testimonies. Sherlock Holmes would be appalled."
Thinking through her entire toolkit — the Instigator abilities useful mainly for drawing people out in conversation and negotiation, the rest either outright cheating or more suited to committing crimes than solving them — she couldn't quite suppress a smile.
But then she looked at her own conspicuously tall frame and felt a new concern settle in.
No matter how she tried to disguise herself, she was far too noticeable. How was she supposed to move through the Extraordinary community without being remembered?
While Ais wasn't particularly worried about being recognized by other Extraordinaries — she'd already made a face familiar to the church — the problem was if any of them happened to be a Witch cult sympathizer.
"Annoying. Should I just give up on disguising it, cooperate with the church for a sting, and use bait? Or turn the conspicuousness into a tool — lean into it so hard that potential cult members don't even consider that I might be a Witch?"
She was still turning it over while she tidied up the new clothes she'd left on the bed.
After a prolonged reorganization, Ais found herself with nothing else to do. She stared at the cosmetics and finally sighed in resignation, picked up the women's magazine she'd bought specifically for this purpose, and began learning her way around a field completely foreign to her.
An hour later, she stared at her reflection in an ice mirror and fell into deep self-doubt.
"I followed every step in the instructions. Why does my makeup look so stiff? Being slightly less attractive isn't a bad thing — but this looks completely unnatural."
After several more attempts, Ais noticed that while her skill at applying makeup had made no progress, her skill at removing it was improving rapidly.
"Apparently the Witch potion didn't see fit to give me any talent in this area."
Having made her peace with reality, Ais faceplanted into the soft bed and refused to consider getting up.
"I'll take it one step at a time. This was never going to happen overnight. First, go buy some groceries and make myself something decent to eat as a reward. Then figure out finding a makeup tutor — at least get the Witch's natural beauty covered up to some degree."
She thought all of this while rolling contentedly back and forth across the bed.
Author's Note (this chapter):There was no need to be paranoid about it, but the details that needed attending to couldn't be neglected. Keeping her distance from the upper class and the wealthy was only the most obvious step. To avoid that group of women with nothing in their heads but schemes to force men to drink the Witch potion, the best strategy was simply to act like a normal woman.
邱小姐爱梳妆 · 04-17 09:06 With that height, "normal" isn't really an option — she's going to stand out no matter what.