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"It really does suit you wonderfully, Sylphy."
Sylphy fidgeted slightly, her gaze drifting to the slit in her skirt where the garter clips peeked through. Her ears twitched nervously.
"Should I... take off the stockings...?"
Hilda chuckled.
"Do you want to take them off now?"
Sylphy stiffened, waving her hands hastily.
"N-No! I just meant... does it look... weird...?"
Hilda tilted her head, studying Sylphy's legs before covering her mouth with a soft laugh.
"Not at all. At your age, it's perfectly appropriate. Though if you were older, going without stockings might seem more refined."
Sylphy blinked, not quite grasping the implication before Hilda gently guided her to sit at the vanity by the window.
Before her—
A mirror.
And beneath it, Hilda's dressing table.
She barely had time to register it before Hilda's face appeared over her shoulder in the reflection, fingers lightly brushing Sylphy's still-damp, slightly tangled white hair.
"A little messy. Shall we fix that?"
Before Sylphy could protest, Hilda had already picked up a comb.
Sylphy's eyes widened, and she shot up—
"I can do it myse—mmph?!"
Only to be firmly pressed back into the chair.
Hilda's hands moved deftly, the comb gliding through Sylphy's hair like water, the gentle tug sending a faint, ticklish warmth through her scalp.
It reminded him of his mother - back in Buena Village.
The same tenderness. The same rhythm.
A mother's touch.
Sylphy hesitated, about to insist again—
Then Hilda spoke.
"Don't be nervous. There's no need to feel embarrassed. I'm... glad you've come to Boreas."
Her voice softened.
"It feels... familiar."
Sylphy froze, straining to see Hilda's expression in the mirror. But the angle cut off just below her elegant neckline—
Her face was hidden.
"...It's our honor, Madam."
The comb kept moving.
"...You're so tense. Relax a little."
"I-I am relaxed..."
Silence settled, broken only by the whisper of the comb through hair.
Sylphy exhaled, her shoulders loosening—
Then Hilda spoke again.
And her words sent Sylphy's heart lurching.
"...At lunch today, when you left... I saw you glance back at me."
A tremor—not just in Sylphy's chest, but in Hilda's voice.
"Was there... something you wanted to say?"
"N-No! Not at all!"
Sylphy stared at her own reflection, then added quietly:
"I just... thought you seemed kind. It reminded me of my mother."
A pause.
In the mirror, Hilda's hands stilled on the comb.
Her fingers were slender, her skin fair—but the faint calluses on her thumb and forefinger stood out starkly.
For a moment, time itself seemed to stop.
Then—
A sigh.
"I see..."
The comb resumed its path.
"Forgive me. Did I make you uncomfortable? My demeanor... my husband and I are used to it, but outsiders might find it... gloomy."
"Not at all! You're very kind. At least... I think so."
Hilda let out a surprised laugh, and Sylphy's heart finally unclenched.
She hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breath.
Hilda shook her head in the mirror, her sleeves rustling as she worked through a tangle.
"How old are you, Sylphy?"
"Seven."
"Oh? Younger than I thought. Hmm... At your age, I was still in noble school."
"You're... very elegant."
"Because of noble school? No, no. That came after marrying into Boreas. Special training."
"R-Really?!"
"Mhm. Though, I first met my husband at his tenth birthday party. I was nine. So in that sense, you're not too young..."
"...I... suppose?"
"We married six years later. My family wasn't quite... 'suitable' for Boreas. His father wasn't pleased."
"Wha—really?!"
"But he couldn't refuse forever. By sixteen, my husband was adamant. I heard his father scolded him terribly... but relented in the end." She chuckled.
"Lord Philip... was like that?"
"Surprised?"
"...A little."
Hilda smiled.
"You're listening so well. Eris never pays attention—always running off to find Ghyslaine. You seem very mature."
"N-No, I just... copy others."
"Copy?"
"Allen... and Roxy..."
"Is that so? But your eyes are steady. That's not something you can mimic. I like them."
Sylphy's ears flicked.
"Th-That's not..."
"No?" Hilda's voice remained light.
"...Actually, last night, I decided to stop copying them. I want to be... stronger."
"Oh? I'd heard about the Thomas incident. My husband meant to bring you here as tutors, yet caused you trouble instead."
"That's... part of it. But not all."
"...You don't wish to say more? That's fine. You have your own mind, Sylphy. I'll cheer you on."
"...Thank you."
"Your Water King-tier tutor—Roxy, was it? I heard she also taught Rudeus."
"Yes."
"She must be remarkable, to have students like you and him at such a young age."
"She is! I admire her."
"And Allen too, no? My husband mentioned he was Rudeus' tutor as well. Did Roxy bring him to the village?"
"...No. Allen came on his own, seeking Lord Philip. But later, Roxy returned to Buena and... took me as her student, on Allen's suggestion."
Hilda paused, then set the comb down.
"I heard Allen is an adventurer. Is Roxy his companion?"
"...Yes."
Hilda rested a hand on Sylphy's head, then leaned down, meeting her gaze in the mirror.
Sylphy saw her smile again—
But something was different.
Maybe it was the fading light, the sun now lower in the sky.
Or maybe it was just her imagination.
For a fleeting moment, Hilda's smile seemed... dim.
Then her voice, warm and melodic, pulled Sylphy back.
"Do you dislike your teacher?"
Sylphy's breath hitched.
"Not at all! I like Roxy very much!"
"Oh? How much?"
"So much! I respect her!"
Hilda studied her face, then nodded.
"Good."
She turned, opening the window.
A spring breeze rushed in, lifting Sylphy's hair.
As she turned to thank Hilda—
Rustle.
The sound of fluttering pages.
Sylphy glanced toward the dressing table's edge.
Not a book.
A diary.
Its pages flipped in the wind, words flashing briefly—
Too faint to read.
Then—
"M-Madam!"
A panicked voice. The door burst open as a rabbit-eared maid rushed in.
"Allen and Ghyslaine—they're fighting!"
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 205 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.