All of a sudden, memories that didn't belong to Eli — memories of Elise — flooded into his mind and merged with his own.
He saw the life of Elise.
She was a young child and a commoner whom the Marchioness took in and raised as her own. If it wasn't for her, Elise would have starved in a gutter and died before her tenth birthday.
There, she befriended Irene, and they became best of friends. Irene treated her with such sincerity and tenderness that Elise felt guilty receiving them. She didn't understand why a noble would even interact with a commoner, let alone be friends.
And so, grateful for the mother and daughter, instead of receiving the Marchioness's tutelage to become a legitimate member of the House, Elise volunteered to become a lady's maid just so she could serve Irene.
To Elise, the Marchioness was her savior, and Irene was an angel she admired and loved dearly.
The memories gradually settled. Eli's fists were clenched.
'What kind of sick joke is this?'
The reward for saving Irene was death?
In more ways than one, Eli was furious, but not for himself. He was enraged on behalf of Elise. A true heroine who sacrificed everything for someone she loved. She died the first time when the developers wrote her that way. She died the second time when Eli took over her body.
And now the game wanted her to die a third time?
'Absolutely not.'
Cruel. Too cruel. How much more did Elise have to suffer?
Even if the game might not be real, Eli had never once thought of it that way. To him, this world had always been real and living in his heart.
At the same time, Eli felt content and relieved.
He observed Irene's delicate beauty beneath his quiet gaze.
'If there was one similarity between you and I, it's that we'd both give everything for her, including our lives.'
But until he had room to think, there was no point in dwelling on it. He was certain the event wouldn't happen immediately.
Eli smiled politely at her, words escaping his mouth as routine.
"Shall I prepare your outfit for today, my Lady?"
Irene titled her head, her doe eyes staring straight into his soul.
"What should I wear, Elise? I have an important guest today."
Like clockwork, the answer had already settled in his head.
"The charcoal lace with silver-embroidered bodice and ruffled sleeves, my Lady."
Irene considered it for a brief moment, then gave a small nod.
"What about accessories?"
"We should keep it minimal. Too many pieces will pull attention away from your face. I suggest a pearl strand. But the pearls must not be too big. Sapphire drop earrings — long ones, not the studs. And your mother's ring on the right hand."
Irene smiled.
"My hair?"
Eli paused to admire Irene's silver-white hair. He'd seen it rendered in dozens of CGs and countless illustrations back home, but none came close to capturing the real thing.
"It's already perfect, my Lady. Just a light comb to refine the fall."
Irene's eyes lingered on him through the mirror for a moment longer than usual.
"You're being very particular today."
Eli's heart jumped a beat.
'No way she caught me, right?'
Still, he improvised with calmness.
"Am I not always, my Lady?"
Irene released a soft breath, a quiet chuckle slipping out as her eyes crinkled at the corners.
"Yes, you are," she said warmly. "I wish you would loosen up a bit, just like when we were kids. Didn't I order you to call me by my name when we're alone? How many times must I tell before the habit stays?"
Eli's heart did something embarrassing.
'She wants me to call her by her name. Irene Lagranche… wants me to call her Irene.'
If Elise weren't here with him, he was certain his face would have turned crimson.
"It is precisely because we are alone that I must maintain it, my Lady. If I let it slip here, it will slip elsewhere. I must not let what happened at the ball last year repeat itself."
Through Elise's memory, Eli knew that her closeness with Irene had drawn scorn from other nobles. A commoner maid had no business being that comfortable with the Lagranche heir.
Irene leveled him with a stern look.
"Then where can it not be maintained, my dear Elise?"
She briefly paused.
"And you know I don't care about those snobby nobles."
"…You make a compelling argument, my Lady."
She puffed her cheeks ever so slightly and walked past Eli toward the dressing room.
"True professionalism is obeying your master's orders, so technically, you're the most unprofessional servant in this household."
'My god… She's so cute!'
Seeing Irene pout in real life instead of just reading the text through a screen was doing critical damage to his sanity. It felt as if he was inside the game itself.
'Oh wait… I am. Damn.'
"Are you going to dress me or not?" Irene's impatient voice rang out.
'Yes, yes. Dressing Irene… Wait.'
Eli turned slowly toward the dressing room. His eyes went wide, heat rushing to his cheeks as they flushed bright.
'I need to DRESS Irene!?'
He moved on unsteady legs, while a thousand embarrassing thoughts flooded his mind all at once. Eli had never, ever seen a woman's bare skin in person, and now his first time was going to be undressing the most beautiful girl in the entire game?
'Shit… Am I a pervert? Should I tell her that I'm not Elise?'
But he was Elise! Even though Eli's thoughts were bleeding through, he only felt a mild embarrassment about this because Elise had done this a hundred times before, and it was ingrained in him.
Finally, he stepped into the dressing room and immediately wished he hadn't.
Irene stood in front of the full-length mirror with her back to him, her robe already loosened at the shoulders. The curve of her collarbone… the pale line of her neck… the—
'Don't look!'
He looked.
'I LOOKED.'
Irene's gestures were casual and elegant, as always.
"Elise, the buttons."
Meanwhile, to Eli, this was a boss fight he had not prepared for.
But his hands moved anyway. They found the hooks along the back of her robe, unfastened them one by one, and eased the fabric off her shoulders, while his head turned elsewhere but her figure.
Irene wore a chemise underneath, which wasn't completely bare-skinned, but Eli did not dare to look for longer than a second.
He reached for the charcoal lace and held it open.
"Arms up, please."
Irene raised her arms, while Eli tried his best not to look at her ineluctable grace and charm.
"Elise."
Eli flinched.
"Ah—yes, my Lady?"
Irene brushed her fingertips along his jaw and guided his face toward hers.
"Why are you trying so hard to look away? Am I unworthy of your gaze today?"
Eli's brain shut down… literally. Steam could come out of his nose and ears right now.
He glanced down at Irene's dainty fingers still on his jaw. Her face was so close that he could count the silver lashes framing those enchanting amethyst eyes. The chemise had slipped off one shoulder; her scent drifted like white tea and daisy.
'…I think I can die happy now.'
"Of course not, my—"
Irene's gaze sharpened, daring him to say "my Lady" again.
"…Irene."
'Fuck. I've really done it this time.'
She blinked. Her fingers lingered for a second longer before she withdrew her hand.
"Your eyes belong to me when we are together, Elise. I despise it when they wander."
Eli slightly titled his head down in embarrassment and bliss.
"I'll keep that in mind."
With that, Irene bloomed a smile and raised her arms again.
He took a deep breath before guiding the dress over her frame as carefully as possible. He had to handle this like it could cost him his life.
Once the fabric settled against her ivory skin, Eli moved behind her and began fastening the bodice. The practiced hands moved with precision and delicacy, connecting hook by hook. He made sure to make the dress snug and secure without causing pain or restricting breathing.
"Any discomfort?"
"It's perfect."
Joy washed over Eli.
'Good job, Elise! We really make a good team, you know.'
After patting himself on the back, he retrieved the pearl strand from the velvet case on the dresser, unclasped it, and brought it around Irene's neck.
Then, for the final touches, Eli pinned the brooch at the center of the collar bow, slipped the sapphire earrings into her ears one at a time, and finally slid her mother's silver ring onto her right hand.
Then, he stepped back.
Irene turned slightly in the mirror, examining her from one angle to another.
"Well?"
When she gracefully turned to Eli, he almost shed a tear.
It might sound crazy, but he was just that insane. She was that important to him — no, to both of them.
'…You're just as beautiful as the day I lost you.'
"You're gorgeous, Irene."