Chapter 79: The Little Game of Makeup and Costume Change

Once her wounds had healed, life took on a different hue. That morning, she awoke beneath the rising sun, her body finally restored after a long illness, leaving her feeling as though she were floating in a dream. She rolled about contentedly under the covers, savoring the sensation that must be akin to a tall person released from confinement, cautiously stretching for the first time. In a word—refreshing!

Unlike her previous convalescence at the Grant household, this time she had been struck by lightning and battered by magical energies, leaving her in a state of electrical burns and magical injuries. Apart from spicy foods, there were no special dietary restrictions, so the royal chefs of the White Tower Kingdom had pampered her with delicious fare. If not for her pain, these days would have been nothing short of paradise.

But where there is paradise, there is also hell.

No sooner had she risen than the maids, who had been waiting outside her door, rushed in to attend to her washing and dressing. The crowd was so large and ceremonious it was reminiscent of a scene from "The City of Golden Armor." She craned her neck suspiciously, searching for hidden cameras outside the door, but before she could get a good look, the procession of maids dazzled her eyes.

Her face was washed with water infused with white spirit petals, her mouth rinsed with fragrant herb juice, her hair brushed with mountain orchid water, her nails painted with dewdrop flower essence. One after another, the floral waters and juices overwhelmed her senses, leaving her too stupefied to ask what all the fuss was about; she could only sit there, blankly allowing herself to be fussed over.

When this series of grooming rituals was finally complete, she could pause for breath.

The maids assigned to her care these days were quite satisfied to see the sickly pallor washed away, revealing a healthy, adorable girl. With a flourish, they signaled to the maids holding basins and cups to withdraw. Immediately, another group entered, bearing a mountain of her greatest dread.

She stared at the pile of clothing in every color and style, which the maids carried in as if building a small hill. Her vision darkened, and she could only hear the amplified thumping of her heart and her increasingly rough breathing.

Was this the legendary apocalypse?

Amused by her trembling, the head maid thought she was shy, and with a smile, eagerly began recommending the dresses.

"These gowns are handcrafted by the finest designers and seamstresses of the White Tower Kingdom. First, to thank you for your brave rescue of our king; second, as a small token to ensure the friendship between our nations endures. Today, as you have recovered, His Majesty is eager to see you. Please, don't stand on ceremony—choose whichever you like!"

Hearing "choose whichever you like," she felt her knees weaken, nearly collapsing.

She silently begged for a kind fairy to whisk these dresses away. If they truly wanted to thank her, and hoped she’d live a few more years, they should simply pick one for her and be done with it!

Alas, the maids lacked superpowers like mind reading. Mistaking her bewilderment for indecision, they launched into enthusiastic introductions.

"This gown is inspired by the ocean," Maid One said, pointing to a sweeping skirt of sea blue. "The broad blue symbolizes the sea, and if you look closely, you'll see it's composed of many shades, layered to create a dreamy wave effect when you spin under the lights."

"This dress takes the prairie as its theme," Maid Two chimed in, holding up a floor-length green gown. "Green represents vitality and life. The gradient shades highlight your graceful curves—sexy yet sweet, perfect for any banquet."

And so it went.

Seeing her pale face and empty gaze, the maids worried she was dissatisfied, and redoubled their efforts.

The torrent of voices left her utterly dazed. Watching the parade of dresses swirl before her, she felt as if she were trapped on a never-ending rollercoaster, spinning endlessly without reaching the end. Leaning back, she found herself pressed against the table.

The support gave her a moment to breathe, and she longed to shut her eyes and shout, "I don't care about the dresses! Just give me anything that fits!"

But these industrious maids, buzzing like bees, had already made her their doll, holding up one dress after another, trading opinions, and planning which accessories and makeup would match.

If she weren’t currently a "cultural ambassador," she might have been stripped right there for a live dress-up show. The thought made her break out in cold sweat as she struggled to stand, inching discreetly toward the door.

This isn’t avoidance, nor a lack of manners—I just need some air, she reassured herself, keeping her gaze fixed on the blank ceiling and fumbling blindly behind her. At last, her hand found the doorknob. Her eyes brightened with excitement, and her lips curled into a smile.

Seeing her joyful expression, the maids assumed she’d finally picked a dress, clapping in celebration. She was just as delighted, twisting the knob and stepping back into the corridor.

Fresh air at last!

She was about to bask in the emptiness of the hallway when she backed into a warm, solid barrier. Who had so little consideration as to leave a mat at her door? She frowned in annoyance.

The "mat" behind her seemed quite pleased, and a gentle voice whispered into her ear, "You’re looking lively—enough energy to throw yourself into my arms, dear disciple?"

She snapped to attention, her pale cheeks blooming into a rosy blush, her ears so hot they nearly burned, her body rigid and motionless.

How could she run into trouble this early in the morning?