But as I lay in waiting, I feel my face tilted to the side and in place of lips, cold skin. Opening my eyes to see, it becomes clear that she’s brushing her cheek against mine.

“In France, we greet each other with a bise. Touching cheeks and making a soft kiss sound.”

She moves my face to its other side, brushing our cheeks yet again. And following it with a sound like kissing one’s teeth, takes two paces back.

“Ysabeau de La Rue, pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

“Likewise!”

My mind regains some modicum of clarity, dispelling the bashful fog of prior. So much so that as Ysabeau clasps my hand within hers, I have the mind to ask her why.

“Wh—”

“An exchange of pleasantries, that is all.”

Yseabeau withdraws. Moving to Samsere, she offers her the same French greeting.

“Samsere, I assume?”

“And here I thought I would go unnoticed the rest of my short stay.”

“By no means. Any and all associates of the Snowsect Sect are welcome within my residence.”

“But some are more welcome than others, yes? Hehehe.”

Ysabeau says nothing. Her reply, spoken only in a slight down tilt of her head.

Hoping to settle some unspoken grievances, I enter with a formality. “Madame de La Rue,” I say, “to what does the Snowcave Sect owe the honour?”

Ysabeau takes a look at Aunt Samsere and paces backwards.

“Just as your Grandmaster aided my family back in The War, so will I in his stead.”

The War, huh… Grandmaster was known to tour the world all over, so I suppose it isn’t too surprising that he came to France, either. But that still doesn’t explain one thing.

One noticeable detail relating to a question of honour.

“And, Madame de La Rue, forgive me, but to what does Xie Yunluo owe to wear a dress?”

“Why, but my enlightened taste and penchant for cute boys, of course.”

Enlightened taste? Hey, wait just a second!

“That i—”

“That is not the whole truth, yes,” Ysabeau interjects, brushing her hand against the glass of a bookshelf. “If it soothes your conscience, know that it’s for your own safety.”

My safety?

”Living in the shadow of my father, I find myself subject to a few of his crude requests—in particular, retaining ample distance from any and all men.”

Aunt Samsere crosses her arms. “See, Yunluo, I told you so!”

“For that reason, it remains paramount for both you and me to maintain that impression lest we incur his wrath.”

That is a reasonable answer, true… But it seems too soon to give up just yet.

“Certainly, he could be reasoned with?”

“If by reason, you mean to ask for a swift decapitation over a prolonged forty-eight hours of being drawn and quartered, asphyxiated, disembowelled, keelhauled, blood eagled, crucified, impaled, and being subject to a brazen bull only to be preemptively healed back to full health and subject to all those cruelties again, then I would reckon a negative two percent chance of success with a two percent margin for error.”

I say nothing.

I say nothing and feel the world spin around me, everything blurring into an unidentifiable haze of black, brown, and red as I just barely maintain balance.

Just how cruel is her father?! And what manner of laws enable such practices?!

“If it is any consolation, I believe the chances of that to be quite low. After all, you do have an exceedingly narrow waist, a maiden’s face, and a vulnerable aura that arouses the protective instincts of those nearby.”

“Vulnerable aura?!” I interject, face flushed red.“I am a martial hero, you know!”

“I am just saying as it is. Ask any other and they will surely agree.”

Supporting Ysabeau’s clause, Aunt Samsere nods with gratuitous zeal, offering a ‘Hey, it’s true’ look in consolation.

“Though since you remain confused as to your own appeal, perhaps this will help.”

With a snap of her finger, the old butler comes with a vertical mirror. Propping it just in front, my body reflects within, a figure of red cotton against a backdrop of white stone.

“Now, try to pout.”

“P-pout?!”

I can’t do that type of thing on command! And plus, demanding such things of a man hardly seems sensible!

Ysabeau steps to the left, pointing to the mirror. “See, you’re pulling it off quite well.“

“I-It’s not on purpose!”

“Now, try to imagine a wayward hooligan harassing you for sexual favours. A tall and veritable hulk of a man, if you will.”

I meet my imaginary opponent eye to eye, readying into a combat stance.

“Impressive. Even your propensity for combat lends itself to erotic appeal. Like the unconquered castle of a mighty kingdom, you incite wanton aggressors to usurp and ravish you.”

“What type of castles get ravished…” I trail off, becoming awfully quiet.

“Is that proof enough?”

“No,” I stammer out, “Nuh uh.”

“Very well,” Ysabeau adds, in a vague half-heartened tone bereft of any and all emotion. “Can you do a standing split?”

“Of course!”

Springing to action, my right leg props upwards, pointing towards the ceiling. Again, Ysabeau regards me with blank curiosity, her hazel eyes trailing steadily down my leg.

“How is it?”

“About as expected, though a tad depressing all the same. Bloomers are certainly a modest choice if nothing else.”

I tilt my head quizzically, wondering what she could possibly mean.

“All in all, I would give an 8.5/10 on personal appeal and a 5/10 as a getup.”

“Is something the matter?”

Ysabeau nods, bringing her hands behind her back. “On your behalf, no. On my presumptions, most certainly. At this rate, a cover story will most likely be needed… Try to repeat after me.” Her voice, proud and commanding, breaks into song, “Do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si, do.”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si, do,” I repeat, ascending in pitch.

“Can you go higher?”

“Do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si, do.”

“Unbearable. Your falsetto sounds like a bird being strangled. Despite your appearance, you’ve the voice of a man through and through.”

“Thank you for the compliment!”

“Though, just in case…” She spurs upon her heel, pacing to me, and at once—jabs me in the side. With an unprecedented amount of force, her nails drive all the way into my gut, eliciting a surprising yelp.

“Aie!”

The lady smiles, blinking in subsequent relief. “When push comes to shove, your yelp bears a shrill likeness.” Ysabeau then brandishes her hand, sending a polite nod to her butler. “Étienne. Help the young man to his chambers.”

The butler moves; his face deferential. Seeing him go, I realise that I’ll have to part ways soon. More importantly—that I’ll have to leave my dear Aunt behind. Looking her in the eye, I watch Aunt Samsere pat me on the shoulder, her grip tight and her eyes a tad wet.

“Yunyun, be a good boy, alright?”

“I promise. Whether to avenge our sect or to make you smile, I’ll always try my best!”

I receive my Aunt’s gaze. On the count of two, I then hug her, hoping to squeeze out any bad will and sentiment.

”It’s ok to cry, Auntie. But we’ll meet again soon, I promise!”

After giving my reassurances, I change my focus to the matter at hand, offering one final look of goodbye. The longer I look at her, the worse my feelings get. So, for both Samsere’s sake and mine, I need to move forward.

”Take care of yourself, Yun! If any bad guys come after you, show ‘em your Kung Fu!”

”Will do, Aunt Samsere!”

Inwardly curious, I trail after Étienne, trudging with slowed steps down a narrow hallway. It’s difficult to make out what’s ahead. No windows line the walls, and in place of electric lights are tin-plated lamps, dancing with an ethereal purple glow once every ten steps.

“Here’s the bathroom,” says the butler, rapping against a wooden door

“Understood.”

“And here…” Étienne continues, passing by a curve and skidding to a halt, “is your room.”

It takes a moment before a sound emerges from his trouser pocket. In the butler’s outstretched hand jingles metal—an antique brass key with a strange sigil at the end.

“A word of warning. Before slumber, lock your room.”

“Can I ask why?”

“No.”

Étienne steps to the side. Eyeing the door ahead, I move forward, smoothly unlocking it in one single motion. There’s a single queen-sized bed, a closet, drawers, and a portrait of Ysabeau herself across the room.

“The door here.” Étienne points just adjacent to the entrance. “Is for the shower.”

He puts my luggage against the wall. Without missing a beat, the butler then leaves, leaving but a few soft thumps in his wake. My eyes trace the room, still a tad tense. Moving to a new place is posing a greater challenge than expected. Already, thoughts of home and my martial siblings cloud my mind, incurring no shortage of emotion.

“This must be melancholia…”

It’s by no means a new feeling, but simply one that’s been unfelt for the better part of a year. With that in mind, I pace towards the end of the room, pulling open the flower-patterned curtains and window behind.

“Pretty.”

Surrounded by buildings is a small garden below. At a glance, it’s lined with white dove orchids and a variety of strange, almost otherworldly plants, some stretching to my height and others bearing uncanny, even geometric shapes. It seems I’m not the only one beholding its beauty either, as a lone figure—a silhouette of red and yellow paces to and fro, strutting atop the stone paths.

I lean forward, resting my elbows against the windowsill to get a better look. To be honest, I have half the mind to call out to them and try my attempts at socialisation. But knowing the French, I’d probably just be chewed out, or worse, have my identity revealed and get subject to a dozen methods of torture.

Still…

Just knowing there are other people here—potential friends and compatriots alike, makes the future seem ever so brighter.

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?”

The figure lets loose a burst of emotion, a surge of dignity in an overwhelming contralto. Turning in my direction, she rests one hand on her chest and the other thrust sky-high. After a moment of processing her words, I understand that she’s doing a French rendition of Romeo and Juliet, reciting a tryst between soon-to-be lovers.

“It is the east and this unspecified maiden is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon!”

Seeing her unbridled passion, I reply with a thumbs up. It takes a lot of courage to perform, much less in front of others, so if I can encourage her one way or the other, then it’s only virtuous to do so.

“She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?” the lady muses, taking off in my direction and darting between a barrier of trees. “Her eyes discourses; I will answer it!” Jumping into the air, the woman nimbly grips a stone ledge, heaving herself onto it without so much as a sweat. Within the span of a few seconds, she climbs up three windowsills, now standing face to face with me.

And here I get a sense of how pretty she is. With a honey-blonde haircut just past her neck and verdant eyes the colour of wild garlic, she seems to me a characteristic European beauty. Even her clothes, being a studded brown gambeson and black leggings, only serve to further that impression—like that of a knight during a leisurely pastime.

“Pardon the intrusion, fair maiden, but it would appear that I am a victim of ‘love at first sight.’ So, if you would grant me the honour, the bare minimum, to this wayward intruder, might I ask for your name?”

Love at first sight… fair maiden… did I just hear that correctly?!

“W—” I open my mouth to speak, wanting to tell her I’m a boy and that her affections are ill-directed, but as I try to do so, only silence comes through, lapsing into an awkward stutter and inconspicuous coughs.

“Yes; observe my beauty! Stutter, gasp, moan! Your emotional inflexions do, hehe, hehehe, do stimulate me so!”

A thin trail of blood runs down her nostril.

“Do forgive me! I’ve fragile blood vessels after suffering the brunt force of a warhammer on duty, so even breathing with improper posture can disrupt me so,” she explains, wiping at her philtrum. “Oh, hehe, hehehe!” With every giggle, a new string of blood erupts, gradually forming a single channel of red.

Seeing that—I extend a hand in answer. Even if I can’t cure her affliction, it seems wrong to let this poor woman linger in the cold. At the bare minimum, she could come in and rinse off the blood, right?

When she sees this, the woman appears startled—as if the very gesture warrants suspicion.

If I could speak, I’d just explain it verbally. But I can’t, so I wallow in silence instead, hoping my body and face can communicate as is.

Two seconds later, the woman’s misgiving recedes, and with it comes an even bigger smile.

“By your leave,” says the lady, imbued with a distinct air of triumph.

She wraps her hand around mine. I prepare to pull her in when all of a sudden—

“Yunluo?”

—A voice comes from behind.

About a second after this, a heavy force tugs down on my hand. So strong is its strength that my body comes with it, pulling me over the windowsill and into the air.

“Woah!”

Confronted with this sudden development, I let loose a cry of surprise.

“Milady!”

Meanwhile, the woman repositions herself mid-air with incredible dexterity. With her face empty of fear and her breathing tempered like steel, she wraps one hand around my back and the other under my knees. Then, hoping to break our fall, she kicks off the sandstone wall, allowing a smooth, if not somewhat messy, roll into a patch of flowers.

“Are you alright?” she asks, her voice devoid of her former theatricality.

“Y-yes.”

For some time, we’re silent. At this moment, I’ve probably dispelled the notion that I was a maiden by virtue of my weight and voice. So, in her eyes, I’m probably just some crossdressing pervert with deviant intentions…

“Sorry… Um, you see, there’s a good explanation for all of this. I-I swear I’m not a sexual deviant…”

We meet eye to eye, our faces held in perfect parallel. Thinking she must hate me, I bashfully look away, covering my face in shame. But as I do so, something like water trickles onto my skin, something warm, viscous, and oddly… plentiful?

“Hwoooh, ohohoh, howeohh, hehehe!”

And weirder enough, the amount of water seems to be increasing?!

I pull my hand away to get a better look.

In that instant, blood splatters all over my face, and in that infinitesimal moment, the lady’s face becomes clear. As if observing a fresh morsel of meat, the woman pants with redoubled fury, her lungs wheezing with every breath.

“Forgive me!” she cries out; and then sucks the blood back into her nose.

“Um, are you ok?”

“Why, of course! In fact, one might say I’ve far exceeded the boundaries of ‘all right’ and am on the brink of entering the near-euphoric state known as, well, ‘euphoria’! Yes, yes, that is it!” Her voice reverberates against the limestone walls. “Ah, but where are my manners~! My name is Earlene, I’m twenty-two, I’m currently single, and I hail from England, land of knights and chivalry!”

Finishing her introduction, the enthused woman retrieves a grape-purple handkerchief from a waist-bound pouch. Slowly, gently, she pats it on my face, wiping away blood as she would tears from a child.

“Sorry about that, old chap. Didn’t mean to coat you in a vermillion smoothie. But, if it’s any consolation, know this Earlene doesn’t have any diseases or anything, ok? No syphilis, bonerot, or any variant of the common cold. Just a penchant for cuties, that’s all!”

She finishes there and tucks back her handkerchief. I nod a relieved thank you and stare back in silence. Under Earlene’s warm, enveloping gaze, I find myself strangely blushing, somehow feeling appreciated by her attention.

“...You’re one beautiful boy, you know?”

W-wait. Did I just hear that correctly?!

“I—”

“Xie Yunluo!”

Ysabeau’s voice echoes once again from the window. Her hazel eyes scan Earlene and me through the tree’s foliage, watching with gradual intensity.

“Churls...” says Earlene, standing and resting me on a nearby bench. “To our next tryst!”

She draws in a deep breath—and promptly breaks into a sprint. The image of her lasts only for a second and soon becomes little more than a diminished dot, pacing through a metal door and the main entrance at long last.

As I sit, recalling her vivid character, I can’t help but think that this ‘Earlene’ is one energetic person indeed!