"Which one looks better? The blue one or the black one?"
Ellis switched between the two options, turning to face Mila, who was in serious contemplation over the two shoulder cloaks that came down to his waist. He had already decided to go with the black one since the collar Lorenz had given him was also black, but he needed to test Mila to know he can trust her in the future with these matters.
"B....bl..."
Mila began with narrowed eyes as Ellis held both of them for her, who was sitting on the stool of the dressing table.
"The blue one!"
"....."
"No? The black one! Yes, I meant that one!"
"You can leave, Mila."
Ellis laid the cloaks neatly across his bed, his voice flat with no particular emotion as he spoke. Mila, however, shot up from the stool in a panic, as though she'd just been condemned to thirty days in solitary confinement for betraying his trust.
"Young master, give me another chance! I won't disappoint you again!"
"You're overreacting again, it's nothing serious, forget it..."
"No, young master—I have truly failed you! You've never been this talkative before, and yet every time you ask me something, I only end up disappointing you!"
Mila stomped her feet against the floor as if punishing herself for not being able to fulfill her duties properly. Ellis had never dealt with a person of such personality, and he wasn't sure what he could say to lift her spirits. After a brief hesitation, he finally spoke.
"I still need to finish getting ready. I've only put on the outfit so far… will you help me?"
"Young master..."
She rose slowly from the stool, drawing out the title, and patted the stool enthusiastically.
"Of course, I'll help! Sit down—I'll pour out everything I've learned today to make you shine brighter than anyone else!"
Trusting Mila outwardly but not inwardly, Ellis sat on the stool and gazed at his appearance in the dressing table's mirror. Even with just a simple white shirt, he was afraid he would be able to attract some people. Just thinking about a male being attracted to him made him shiver three times. Drowning in his misery, he saw Mila grabbing a soft bristle brush to smooth out his hair. He immediately seized it, avoiding it just in time.
"There's no need to brush my hair, I like it as it is."
"Young master, it looks as if you've just woken up with a bird's nest for hair! How could I possibly allow you to attend the annual masquerade ball looking like this?"
"Good... that's just what I want."
Dispiritedly abandoning the hair brush, Mila picked a few pins from the drawer and started to pin his hair out of his face. He had already taken a bath—if this wasn't to wash his face, then what could it be?
Ellis watched with growing curiosity as Mila pulled out one item after another from the drawer, lining them across the dressing table. She grabbed a soft, cushiony sponge wrapped in cloth and dabbed it across his face. A fine white powder rose into the air, settling over his skin, making his complexion as white as a ghost.
"..…."
"The lights in the ballroom are far too bright! I want young master Ellis to outshine every last one of them!"
Ellis stared at his reflection in disbelief. He already looked pale enough to be mistaken for someone anemic—or worse, deathly ill. What was the point of making him even whiter? It didn't seem to help much, but…
"It was never that serious."
"No, it is that serious. Continue, Mila...."
Smiling wantonly, Ellis tilted his face forward in surrender—a willing sacrifice. He might be sacrificing his dignity, but appearing too prim and proper wasn't an option either. The last thing he wanted was to attract any man's attention at the event. Just because he had agreed to his father's wishes didn't mean he would so easily present himself before a crowd of eager suitors. No—he intended to drag this out for as long as he possibly could!
He closed his eyes and let Mila do her magic, but when she was unpinning his hair, signaling that his makeover was complete, he felt utterly defeated.
Why... why does he still look so good?! He looked even more appealing somehow!
He would've washed his face right away if Mila weren't here. But that would be too rude, wouldn't it? She'd just poured her heart into the makeup… Sighing, he decided to let it slide.
"What's taking so long, Mila? Let me do it."
"It's done, but this is a bit loose, young master. Should I bring another collar?"
This was the collar Lorenz had given him. The size wasn't quite right, but Lorenz had been clear—he wanted Ellis to wear it to the annual masquerade ball. Ellis tugged at it lightly; it didn't cling to his neck the way it should, yet it didn't leave much of a gap either.
"It's fine, this will do."
Mila wasn't satisfied with it, but she also knew Ellis was set on wearing this one. In the end, she held her tongue and moved on to the final touch of his look—the silver mask.
"Tie it securely. It should stay on even if I run at full speed."
"Yes, young master."
The killer only appeared at gatherings where nobles convened. Attending any such event was beyond dangerous—especially for someone like Ellis, who was undoubtedly on the killer's radar. If chaos broke out, it would be wiser not to show his face, lest the killer recognize him. But if the killer was already onto him… there was little Ellis could do except tread carefully.
As Mila adjusted his mask and hair, Ellis unbuttoned a few more buttons from the top of his shirt—determined to embody the image of an unruly young master to match his messy hair. The perfect vibe of a delinquent, shameless through and through! Let all the men think he was just a playboy who'd warm anyone's bed. Who would ever want such a man for marriage?
"This isn't appropriate, young master..."
"I need to look tempting for the fish to bite."