villainess'ss Secret Service

c70

The preparations

As the radiant, amber-hued radiance of the descending sun enveloped the room, casting it in a warm, fiery palette, Rosalie found herself knitting her brows in contemplation. The lingering embrace of her dreams still held sway over her senses, yet an innate impulse stirred within her, coaxing her to rouse herself from the profound slumber and unveil her eyes to the outside world. She turned her whole body around, fixing her deep gaze on the orange ceiling, and attempted to collect her thoughts, but the lazy haze inside her head combined with the pleasant soreness of her muscles refused to let her go, mercilessly pulling the girl back into the sweet world of leisure.

Suddenly, as if stricken by a lightning bolt, Rosalie jerked her body into an upright position, frantically rubbing her sleepy eyes, desperately trying to wipe off the invisible glue that was sticking to her lashes. Once it seemed like her eyelids were no longer surrendering to the unfathomable power of sleep, she fixed her sparkling gray gaze on the large clock on the opposite wall and nearly shouted,

"Oh my God!"

As her gaze alighted upon the clock's hands, which had already progressed into the latter part of the afternoon, a disconcerting comprehension swept over her in an instant - the events of the previous evening, following their fervent Acme exchange, had seen her resolutely proposing another date with Damien. Yet, at this moment, it appeared that the specter of failing to uphold her commitment loomed over her once more.

"Damn it! is it already too late to go? I cannot believe I'm doing this again! Why did nobody wake me up? I--"

Amidst the turmoil of her self-reproach, Lady Ashter's attention was drawn to a neatly folded white note positioned on her bedside table. The name "Rosalie" adorned it, elegantly scripted in glossy black ink. Acting on instinct, her fingers quickly retrieved the note, and with a measured pace, she unfolded it, proceeding to read aloud its contents:

"Dear Lady Rosalie,

I have directed Miss Aurora to grant you the solace of slumber until your natural awakening. If memory serves, last night you extended an invitation for me to accompany you to the Harvest Festival-a proposal to which I gladly acceded.

Certainly, you must be quite cognizant that the Festival's most enchanting allure lies in the night view of the Central Capital. If your inclination to attend endures, I shall anticipate our meeting before the main gate, at seven o'clock.

Yours faithfully,

Damien Dio.

P.S. It has been my prerogative to select an ensemble befitting the Festival for your consideration. Though no obligation weighs upon you to don the attire, the prospect of your approval brings me gratification."

Rosalie quickly examined her room in search of the promised addition to Damien's note and noticed a large blue carton box wrapped with a silk purple ribbon, carefully placed next to her vanity mirror. Eager as a child confronted with the allure of birthday presents, she promptly advanced towards the table and, with an impetuous resolve, unfurled the box's contents.

What she found inside did not seem that impressive at first it was a rather simple warm dress made of soft, comfortable velvet and colored in the subtle, yet intense hue of burning autumn leaves. Next to it, however, was the sole accessory that made the girl both widen her eyes in sheer excitement and let out a soft, joyous chuckle.

"A fox mask?"

Indeed, the object of amusement at hand unveiled itself as none other than an orange-hued mask fashioned in the semblance of a woodland fox, thoughtfully designed to enshroud half of a person's face. Two delicate silk ribbons, adjoined at its sides, served the purpose of fastening the mask securely in place, while atop its structure sat a pair of little ears, decorated with a gentle white fur lining the interior.

"Well, it seems this mask goes well with the dress's palette. It appears I am to assume the semblance of a fox today... One can only speculate if Damien might opt for a guise resembling that of a wolf."

She let out another genuine chuckle and put the mask back into the box, walking slowly, yet with somewhat elevated steps toward the door.

'Alright, let's start getting ready. I hope this little outing will bring us a little closer together.'

***

"Do you truly believe this is suitable? I appear as if I've stepped out of a rustic farce."

Damien executed another contemplative twirl before the tall mirror, scrutinizing his unconventional appearance. Subsequently, he pivoted to directly face Felix, reiterating his inquiry,

"Well?"

Felix slowly adjusted his circular spectacles upon his well-proportioned nose, offering his lord a prolonged, evaluating gaze. Evidently, the current ensemble draped upon him stood as a stark departure from the duke's customary wardrobe. Furthermore, donning an animal-inspired mask that enshrouded the upper portion of his face was not a customary endeavor; this was, in fact, a first-time occurrence. Consequently, he empathized with Damien's reservations. Nonetheless, the urgency of Damien's solicitation necessitated his steadfast support, even if it entailed enduring an array of veiled jabs and reservations.

"Your Grace, it is the prescribed attire for all attendees, as you are aware. You've even dispatched an identical ensemble to your betrothed this very morning, in accordance with Lady Bennett's counsel. Moreover, can we not anticipate that Lady Rosalie might experience a measure of discomfort if she were to stand as the sole participant masked?"

With an undertone of mild irritation, Damien emitted yet another sigh, his focus returning to the mirror, where he assessed his reflection once more. In all honesty, he harbored no intention of subjecting Lady Ashter to embarrassment or unease. However, he acknowledged that avoiding an animal mask was likely an insufficient step to evoke such unfavorable consequences.

'Understanding Lady Rosalie's disposition, it is likely she would regard the matter with indifference, her foremost concern being my contentment...'

Damien retrieved the black mask from the coffee table positioned adjacent to the bedroom sofa, and with resolute conviction, he proclaimed,

"Very well, then. It appears I must yield to the circumstance."

Having received a response that merited his approval, Felix, his silvered hair imparting an air of wisdom, nodded and proceeded,

"Now, it is imperative that you attend to every desire of Lady Rosalie. If she harbors an appetite for something, do not hesitate to sate it. Should she express an inclination to procure an item, irrespective of its perceived frivolity or utility, be prepared to procure it. If the inclination to attend a spectacle should arise, secure the requisite tickets. Above all, ensure the acquisition of the grandest and most resplendent magic lantern for the culmination of the festivities. Furthermore, I stress this with utmost gravity: refrain from any inclination to deride the wish she might utter."

The final directive was accentuated with intensity, the gravity of which was underscored by a solemn, unyielding gaze directed toward the duke. Damien, initially taken aback by the profundity of the instructions, sought solace in leaning against his wardrobe, his shimmering golden eyes fixated contemplatively upon his well-informed aide.

"How is it that you possess such a wealth of insight into this matter? Strangely enough, I've never witnessed you in the company of a lady, and yet your counsel exudes an air of undeniable expertise."

A shadow of unexpected melancholy washed over Felix's face, casting a muted hue of sadness upon his features. With a shift of his gaze, he responded in a hushed tone,

"Indeed... Well, it seems I can, at the very least, harness this knowledge to be of service to you, Your Grace.".