The whole situation with ‘Earlene’ proved quite strange. Madame Ysabeau even interrogated me about it. She looked me dead serious in the eye and posed questions with the imperious air of a noble. When I told her I was clueless, however, she withdrew, nodded an apology, and ended it there, posing an order to clean myself.

Having taken a shower and changed into a new set of clothes, I now meet face-to-face with her again. On the sofa opposite me, with a glass of water in hand, Madame Ysabeau seems prepared to relay some information. Like a messenger ready to dispatch some all too tragic news.

“Apologies, I thought I had the evening off, but it would seem that I’d forgotten about an all too significant detail.”

I nod sympathetically. “We’re all begrudged to times of forgetfulness.”

Kind as her gesture is, I think I’ll manage. After all, she is the head of a noble family, so asking her to take me along for a city tour never occurred to me.

“And that is why, for the evening to come, I ask only that you’re none too displeased.”

“The very fact that you would allow me residence honours me, Madame Ysabeau. It’s unfitting for one of my station to ask for anything more.”

Étienne leans in, speaking into his mistress’s ear, “Milady, perhaps it would do to be more direct.”

She nods, looking suitably agreeable. “Yunluo. What say you to attending a social gathering?”

A social gathering… Beyond the usual repertoire of balls and parties, where I might struggle to find footing, I don’t see the issue. Experiencing something new overseas seems like a fun way to learn new things! That, and unlikely as it is, could lend me to learning something about Chigetsu’s whereabouts.

“It’d be my pleasure. What better way to integrate into another’s culture than exchanging goodwill with its people?”

“Then it’s decided. Yunluo, for this upcoming evening, please act as my lady in waiting.”

“Understood!” I reply, clenching my right fist and suppressing what post-realisation embarrassment I might have.

Of course, how could I forget?!

If I went to a social gathering, it’d be in this cute getup, not as my usual self! Putting aside my shame, though, how exactly am I going to blend in?

”If I had to guess, you’re probably musing over how to disguise yourself, correct?”

”Rightly so,” I say, putting on a bearing of concern. “While I am prepared to bite down my shame, it’d do your family a great disservice if their eldest daughter was exposed as a liar, no?”

”That is so. Which is precisely why I’ve prepared a few safety measures.”

”Safety measures?”

Ysabeau puts down her glass.

”Number one: forgo speech. Number two: forgo stripping. And Number three: if possible, forgo any clear demonstrations of masculine sensibility.”

“The first two are self-explanatory, but… masculine sensibility?”

What does that even mean?

“According to an in advance perusal of a very scientific book, I believe some examples would be stoicism, championing war as the unalterable norm, loudness, and not engaging in chores around the house.”

“Hm, makes sense.”

I try my best to appear knowledgeable. As far as I’m concerned, though, two of the examples hardly seem relevant, and the other two contradict each other. Thinking it over, this issue could be solved with one very simple fix.

“If it proves that concerning, why not just have my Aunt Samsere take my place? She might be bull-headed, but she’ll prove a better woman than I, even so.”

“Ah, were she still here…”

Wood creaks as Ysabeau shifts her weight. Transfixed by that sound, I feel myself sink into thoughts, a slight pang in my heart. It hurts. I’m not surprised she already left, but hearing it out loud still hurts.

“Samsere’s gone, huh…”

“Since the better half of an hour. According to her testimony, she was reluctant to say another goodbye in person, what with crying at the thought of leaving you and all. Truly, a most endearing bond you two have.”

Endearing is definitely one way to put it. In reality, though, Aunt Samsere’s probably run off to tour France while leaving all the hard work up to her poor junior. If I asked her about it, she’d probably mention the ‘joie de vivre’ and her gradually fading youth or something…

“Still. No use in crying over spilt wine; if nothing else, we should hurry along and try to make do with what we have. I’d neglected to mention it earlier, but since you’ll be playing a maiden’s role, it might do well to set out the details of her character.”

Stolen story; please report.

“I’m not a very skilled actor, Madame Ysabeau. To be frank, I’ve never even mimed before!”

“All the more reason to go over these details. In the event that someone asks you a question, you’d still do well to respond in line with a consistent, albeit fictional history.”

“...Very well, I accept.”

“In that case, let us begin.”

Ysabeau ceases speaking and retrieves a leather folder from the low-hanging table.

She flips it open, moving with a distinct purpose, as she prepares to read its contents.

“Character One: Zhu Ruili. You are a hapless maiden escaping from the Kong state’s expansion. Your husband recently fell in battle, and as a widow, you’ve escaped to France for safe haven. Deep down, however, you still have a tender heart and secretly long to be wooed by a man worthy of your love.”

I feel my body tense. “Is there something a bit more… suitable?”

“Character Two: Guo Chaoying. You are a prostitute—

“O-Out of the question!” I interject haphazardly, standing up and feeling the heat in my face. “Apologies for my rudeness, but anything pertaining to lovemaking is beyond me!”

I’m a virtuous man who hasn’t even so much as kissed before! Asking me to roleplay a woman, much less one of these qualities is out of the question!

“A-authenticity is important! As Mark Twain said, ‘Write what you know’. If we extrapolate this to acting, asking me to portray such a demanding role that’s as far from me as it gets seems highly conducive to failure!”

Blurting out an argument in quick succession, I finally plop back down, hands digging into my thighs. Just as I’m sinking in my awkwardness, Ysabeau grins.

“Well…” she says, allowing a playful chuckle to come through. “In that case, I do have one last idea…”

A slight ruffle comes through, characteristic of stiff paper being flipped.

“Character C: Xie Aili. You worked as a bodyguard in China for a long period of time. As a master of Kung Fu, you eventually drew the attention of a notorious group of bandits and, in a last-ditch effort, inched out victory by a hair’s breadth, losing your vocal cords and right eye in the process.”

The image of a valiant heroine comes to mind. A hardened warrior, beyond parallel, fighting tooth and nail. As I mull over this imaginary figure’s peculiarities, I can’t help but think she’d be someone I’d look up to, someone just, all around cool!

“Woah,” I gasp in amazement.

“So… Yunluo, is she to your liking?”

“She’s super cool! Strong, brave and skilled! Out of the three, she’s definitely the one closest to me!”

“Precisely.”

Ysabeau rises, taking her leave to the dressing screen just beyond. Beside myself in anticipation, I end up anxiously following, making a clear effort to hide my concern. Here, behind the floral-patterned dressing screen, lies a stool and a full-length mirror.

“Étienne will be here soon.”

Her voice entreats me to security—spoken in a subdued, genteel tone. As her butler returns with clothes and accessories in hand, Ysabeau’s figure remains ever so still, reflected still in the ornate mirror.

With my outfit before me, the question of what I should do becomes clear.

The only question is…

Why is she still here?!

Now, naturally, as a man, being seen topless isn’t a particular cause for concern. It’s just the combination of Ysabeau’s noble bearing and the clothing at hand that makes things difficult. Objectively speaking, I do get why she’s watching me.

After all, we’re only just acquainted. For all intents and purposes, she could be vying to see whether I’d hidden some weapons on my body. Or perhaps Ysabeau possesses some talent for fortune telling, of which she’d be able to divine by the lines on my back…

“Hmm…”

Yet, listening to her mumble, I can’t help but feel shivers down my spine.

“Apologies, but—”

Her stool skids against the floor. Without letting me finish, Ysabeau stands up and hurriedly exits.

No follow-up, no interruption, nothing.

Save for one long-drawn exhale, only faint ripples of sound grip the air. Now left all alone, I quickly change into my newly allotted clothing. Compared to my previous getup, this one’s a lot more spacious, to say the least.

It’s lighter around the waistline and only runs just below my knees, meaning I can fight if push comes to shove. The stiff lace and petticoat will still take a bit of getting used to, but all in all, a noticeable improvement!

Swelling with satisfaction, I equip the rest of my accessories, fastening my long hair into twin tails and pulling the eyepatch over my face. Upon studying my mirrored reflection, I feel a smidgen of pride weasel its way into my heart.

“Hehehe.”

Keeping one hand on my waist and the other over my face, I strike a pose.

“Behold, the One-Eyed Vajra, she who sunders even gods! Incur her wrath, and face… face, slaying!”

The scriptwriting needs some improvement, but the delivery’s there!

Maybe I’ve a penchant for acting, after all!

“Muahahaha!”

“Five out of ten. The enthusiasm and looks are there, but that’s about it.”

My reverie ends. Spinning upon my heel, I meet face to face with Étienne, watching as the butler pensively strokes his chin. Falling prey to ingrained training, my arms naturally raise in defence as if ready to strike down this skulking—grey-haired opponent.

“Seeing as you’re done, let’s not keep the lady waiting.”

“...Indeed.”

The two of us exit in tow, meeting Ysabeau on the living room sofa. Sitting cross-legged, the young lady scrutinises my figure, running her hazel eyes down my body.

“...Superb.” She expresses some degree of approval, nodding. “Good grief, were it not for a question of sensibility, I’d find it in me to say much more.”

I fidget in place, brandishing a look of faux-confidence. Now that I’ve somewhat acclimated to all this, it occurs to me that it’s time to posit a question. Or rather, the question, that which compelled me here in the first place.

“Madame Ysabeau, if I might deign to ask, what do you know of Chigetsu?

She takes a half-second to digest my question.

“The general details: her face, her abilities, and her relation to your sect. Besides those, I haven’t much clue. It was a chance encounter that an acquaintance of mine caught her on camera and that my parents were familiar with your Grandmaster.”

Such a concise answer speaks for itself. Whatever efforts in that venue will be of my own—devoid of other’s assistance.

“Understood.”

“Alas. There’ll be plenty of time for that matter later, no? For the time being, how about I show you around the city?”

Taken aback by the proposal, I hastily bow in thanks. “It would be my honour!”

Finding myself quite excited, I convince myself that there’s no rush to chase after Chigetsu. That the more I acclimate to this city, the better the odds of finding her. That revenge will come eventually, and when it does—the chance to confront that abyss of uncertainty and sorrow.