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Hilda spoke up.
"Then let's go with this one!"
"I made it two years ago. Sylphy's figure is petite, so it might be slightly loose, but the slightly relaxed style is quite fashionable in the capital lately. It'll suit her perfectly."
Sylphy's eyes widened, and she shook her head rapidly—so fast it rivaled Allen's Sword God style!
"M-M-M-Madam! Allen and the others are still outside! This won't do!"
Before she could finish her flustered protest, Sylphy turned to flee—only to smack headfirst into the nearby wall.
Dazed, she wobbled in place, clutching her forehead in pain.
After a moment of stunned silence, she peeked up at Hilda, her cheeks flushing crimson.
Hilda sighed with an amused smile.
Her hand moved away from the evening gown and rested instead on a pale blue, ribbon-laced dress.
"Then how about this one? I made it for Eris three years ago, but back then, she didn't even step inside the room, that child… Heh. Now, the size should fit you perfectly. I think you'll like the color too?"
Sylphy blinked, staring at the pale blue dress.
"…I-I like this one… But wouldn't it be too presumptuous… to wear something you made…?"
"Yet no one has ever worn it before. Will Sylphy be the first? To take it from the darkness of the wardrobe and let it finally see…"
"The sun."
A gentle smile curled at the corners of Hilda's eyes.
Sylphy froze at those words.
In that brief silence, Hilda already held the dress up against Sylphy's figure.
"It suits you wonderfully."
Then, with expectant eyes, she watched Sylphy's face.
After a hesitant pause, Sylphy cautiously reached out and took the dress.
For a moment, the two stood in silence, gazing into each other's eyes.
Hilda blinked.
"Are you shy about changing in front of me because we haven't met often?"
Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked toward the door.
"I'll wait outside."
"…Okay."
Once the door closed, Sylphy glanced back at the daring evening gown in the wardrobe and shrank her shoulders.
The color is one I like…
But it's just too…
With that thought, she looked down at the pale blue dress in her hands, her eyes shimmering with quiet delight.
She turned.
Beside her stood a full-length mirror.
Reflected in it was a white-haired, red-eyed girl.
Her white dress clung to her body, soaked through, emphasizing her slender shoulders and the delicate ridges of her collarbones. The curves of her developing waist and hips were soft and youthful, exuding an innocent charm.
Unlike her thin arms and calves—
Her thighs carried a subtle plumpness, inheriting the alluring leg and hip lines characteristic of the Long-Eared Tribe. The white garters pressed against her skin, leaving faint parallel marks where they had dug in over time.
"Haaah…"
Sylphy touched the garters and sighed in relief upon finding them dry. They had been specially paired with this dress by Lilia, who insisted they suited her—though they were supposedly meant for Lilia's maid uniform. The size, however, was clearly not something Lilia could ever wear, so why she had bought them was a mystery.
Sylphy had tried them on once, felt they didn't fit, and tried to return them—only for Allen to "coincidentally" walk in and shower her with compliments.
In the end, she kept them.
There were only two pairs.
So she usually avoided wearing them in the rain. But today's weather had been clear, so she'd put them on again.
After staring at her reflection for a long moment, Sylphy exhaled, crossed her arms in front of her, and gripped the soaked hem of her dress.
Slowly, she lifted it.
Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the translucent fabric as it rose.
Her skin was pale.
Paler than the damp, ghostly-white dress—yet flushed with a soft pink glow.
Smoother.
Softer.
With a plop, the waterlogged dress slipped off and was draped over a nearby chair.
Sylphy stepped forward, her feet sinking into the plush carpet as her toes flexed against the white stockings.
Then she lifted her foot.
One step.
Two.
The carpet let out faint creaks as she approached the wardrobe.
Her hand reached out, brushing against the pale blue dress.
The texture was different from what she'd been wearing—stiffer to the touch, yet undeniably soft.
A result of high-thread-count weaving and exquisite material.
Just as Sylphy was about to pull the dress out, her gaze flickered toward the evening gown tucked deeper inside the wardrobe.
She quickly averted her eyes—
Only to freeze.
Her reddish-brown pupils dilated as if she'd seen something startling.
A beat later, she slowly reached out.
And opened the other half of the wardrobe.
What greeted her was—
Rows upon rows of meticulously crafted clothing, densely packed on the opposite side.
Men's clothing.
From children's sizes to adult sizes, spanning every age, each piece immaculately prepared.
Sturdy hunting attire. Fur-trimmed robes. Crisp black formal wear.
Pure white dress shirts. Meticulously tailored half-sleeves. Smooth, high-quality trousers.
The stitching grew finer with time.
The materials more refined.
At this moment, Sylphy felt as if she were seeing the passage of time itself—woven into every seam.
It told the story of how Hilda had honed such exceptional skill.
Why, even after becoming the Lady of Boreas, she still kept sewing as a hobby.
And it revealed—
Year after year of fruitless hope.
Because.
Every piece was brand new.
Never worn.
Sylphy's fingers trembled. She wanted to touch them—but in the end, she withdrew her hand.
Understanding washed over her.
Why had Hilda invited Allen as well?
Because.
She had also wanted Allen—whose appearance and demeanor so closely resembled her child's—to "try these on."
These.
Garments born from countless nights over a decade.
Yet never once worn.
These "hopes."
——
Hilda stood outside the door, gazing at the treetops beyond the window.
This was her habit whenever she was alone in her room.
Sometimes, new maids would blush and remark, "Madam's gaze seems so far away, yet so warm."
To which Hilda would only smile softly, offering no explanation.
Now, if one looked closely into her eyes, the reason for that "faraway" impression would become clear.
Her focus wasn't on the trees.
The leaves rustled in the wind, their whispers drifting through the window.
Yet Hilda's eyes remained unmoving.
She was staring at somewhere much more distant.
The tree stood west of the window, blocking only half the sunlight.
Far beyond the western edge of the Fittoa Region.
Lay the capital of Asura.
And this tree.
She had planted it eleven years ago.
She had watched it grow.
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 200 on my patreon, go check it out and remember that if we reach the goal of 25 power stones I will publish the next chapter.