A few moments later, Noah left his room wearing the best dress and headband he could find. The fabric clung awkwardly to his frame, the lace collar scratching at his neck. His reflection in the cracked mirror on the wall seemed foreign—like staring at a stranger wearing someone else's life. Elegant clothing had never been his strong suit as a boy. Now, as a girl…
"Hm, this is fine by itself," Arachnea remarked, her white hair swaying as she circled him like a spider inspecting its prey. Her hands flitted over his shoulders, straightening crumpled seams with mechanical precision. "Now Mister… Ahem, Mistress Vasilisa truly looks like a proper noble lady."
Her slip didn't feel accidental. It lingered in the air like a threat, her smirk curling at the edges as though daring him to correct her. Noah clenched his notepad tighter, the cool leather grounding him. Arachnea was dangerous—too dangerous to ignore, yet too useful to discard. For now, he had to endure her presence.
