CHAPTER 153: MY (IN)GLORIOUS DISGUISE ATTEMPT

[Lavinia’s POV—Dawnspire Wing]

I stared at myself in the mirror like it had just personally betrayed me.

"Wow," I whispered, blinking slowly. "I look... I look so ugly."

Like... genuinely tragic.

Mud-brown hair hanging like sad noodles. Brown eyes so dull they could bore holes into wood. My face was pale, ghostly even, like I’d been haunting libraries for 300 years. And those dark circles? Iconic. I looked like I’d been crying in poetry corners and listening to sad harp music every night.

And to top it off?

A plain, itchy, oversized black robe.

No lace. No frills. No sparkle. Just fabric that screamed: ’I am allergic to fun.’

I turned to Brother Lysandre, horrified. "Can’t you at least make me pretty? I mean, a little blush? A different nose? Something?!"

He averted his gaze like a criminal avoiding eye contact with the judge. "Nope. This way, no man will try to flirt with you. It’s good for your health."

"...You’re cruel."

"Thank you," he said, with zero remorse.

I sighed. "Well, fine. I won’t complain. I mean, I’m about to step out of the Imperial Palace. That’s a miracle worthy of a holy day."

I was just about to say I was ready when a certain someone—ahem—Marshi nudged against my leg with his usual feline insistence.

"No," I told him firmly, "you can’t come. You’re too big. You look like a small panther. I’ll get arrested for suspicious animal trafficking."

He whimpered.

Oh no. Not the whimper. Not the soulful eyes. Not the guilty tail flick.

Brother Lysandre, traitor to the crown, chuckled. "I can change his appearance too, if you want."

Marshi perked up like he just heard the dinner bell from the gods and leaped into Brother Lysandre’s arms, licking his face like a puppy on sugar. Enthusiastic. Relentless.

"Alright, alright!" Lysandre wheezed, trying to shield his flawless elf skin. "I’ll do it! Just—stop licking me, oh stars—MY ROBES!"

With an exasperated groan, he drew a shimmering circle mid-air, chanted something elegant and probably Elvish, and slapped a talisman on Marshi’s head like a very magical sticker.

Poof.

A tiny puff of sparkles.

And standing where my elegant, big, divine, beast-like companion once was...

A tiny, fluffy, absolutely absurdly adorable kitten.

With oversized ears. And a heart-shaped nose.

I sparkled. My soul sparkled.

"Oh. My. GOSH." I grabbed him instantly, smooshed him to my cheek, and squealed, "You’re SO. CUTE. My little baby, my marshmallow Marshi—MY MARSHMALLOW!!!"

Marshi, now in cat form, placed one tiny paw over my mouth, his little face saying: ’Stop. Enough. I am not emotionally equipped for this.’

I giggled and tucked him into my satchel like a furry royal accessory.

"NOW I’m ready."

Brother Lysandre nodded and held up the teleport scroll dramatically like he was about to unveil a prophecy. "Brace yourself. Once I tear this, we’ll—"

"WHO ARE YOU?!"

We both froze.

Very slowly, like guilty children caught with cookie jars, we turned toward the door.

There stood Osric.

Squinting.

Suspicious.

Menacing in that whole "I-have-a-sword-and-eyebrows" way.

He stepped closer, eyes locked on my definitely-not-royal face. "Lord Lysandre?" he asked, blinking. "When did you arrive?"

Lysandre let out a nervous laugh that sounded like an angel losing a harp string. "Oh, you know... just... an hour ago! Casual elf business!"

"And..." Osric’s gaze flicked to me. "Who’s this? What are you doing in the princess’s chamber when she’s not even here... and—" His eyes dropped to the kitten. "—with a cat?"

Oh no.

Time to act.

I bowed dramatically, doing my best impression of a humble servant girl with zero charm and even fewer brain cells.

"I—I’m so sorry, my lord! I was just hired and got lost and wandered in here by mistake and—please don’t tell the princess, I’ll leave now—"

I turned quickly, about to escape—

"Princess."

I froze.

Sweat beaded on the back of my neck.

I turned slowly. "Yes?"

I mean, no. I said "yes," but I meant "no." Absolutely not. Yes.

Osric walked closer, gaze sharp. He scanned me up and down, squinted harder, tilted his head, narrowed his eyes until they were slits of suspicion—

Then he smirked.

"...You’re really good at lying, Princess."

. . . DAMN IT.

Okay. Okay, Lavinia. Breathe. We can still lie our way out of this. Just activate Plan B: Denial and Delusion.

I gave him my most clueless expression. "I don’t understand what you’re saying, my lord."

Osric’s smirk grew into a full grin. "Alright. Since you won’t admit it, should I just arrest you for entering the princess’s chamber without permission? And inform the Emperor that there’s a suspicious girl running around the palace in disguise—?"

"NO!" I shouted, panicked. "Not Papa!"

Osric’s grin widened like a cat that just caught a mouse and its entire family. "Knew it."

I slumped, defeated. "Ugh... I got caught."

I turned to Brother Lysandre and glared. "Did you use a cheap disguise spell on me?!"

He looked offended. "Excuse me?! Never question my elven craftsmanship! The spell was perfect!" He jabbed a thumb toward Osric. "It’s him."

I blinked. "What do you mean it’s him?"

Lysandre sighed dramatically. "This guy can feel you."

There was a silence.

I stared at him.

Then at Osric.

Then back at him.

"...Brother," I said slowly, "do you think we’re starring in an opera?"

Lysandre crossed his arms. "I’m serious. It’s creepy. No spell can hide you from him."

So apparently, Osric had a Lavinia GPS.

Fabulous.

Absolutely love that for me.

He stood there with his arms crossed like some sort of divine punishment wrapped in royal armor, smirking like he’d just cracked the code to the universe.

I groaned. "Stars help me."

"Where are you going?" he asked, folding his arms tighter and giving me the classic overprotective protector stare that should be illegal.

"To watch the—" I began, attempting the bold route —

"Nope," he cut me off, one brow already raised. "Don’t even say it. Don’t even breathe it. Don’t tell me you’re sneaking out to watch the festival. Your First Crawl Day Festival."

I blinked. "Okay, that’s weird. How did you know I was about to say that?"

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Because, Lavi, if you just wanted to go watch the celebrations, you could’ve changed your appearance into something cute, walked out with a parasol, and no one would’ve blinked. But this?" He pointed at my very tragic ensemble. "You’re wearing the Robe of Sorrows. This is undercover business. This is ’I’m-on-a-secret-mission-to-find-the-meaning-of-life’ fashion."

"Wow," Brother Lysandre muttered behind me, "he’s got the brain. That’s rare."

Osric ignored him. Probably because he was too busy looking pleased with himself.

I groaned. Again. My groans were getting their own emotional arc at this point.

"Fine," I huffed. "I can’t tell you."

Osric raised a brow. "Oh? Secret mission, is it?"

I looked away dramatically, like a tragic heroine in a bad play. "Something like that."

He sighed. Then glared. A very firm, protective, eyebrow-powered GLARE.

"Alright," he said. "If you don’t want to tell me, fine."

I blinked in surprise. "Wait, really?"

"But—" he continued sharply.

Ah. There it is.

"YOU. ARE. NOT. GOING. ALONE."

I physically recoiled.

Ugh, stars. He sounds worse than Papa.

And then...

"I am coming with you."

And just like that, my mission turned into a supervised school field trip.

I gave him a long, betrayed look. "So... you’ve already decided then."

He smiled. It was the smile of a man who had absolutely no shame about ruining your plans for your own safety. "Yes. You’re reckless. I’m reasonable. Together we form one functioning person."

I turned to Brother Lysandre in desperation, hands raised. "Do something!"

Brother Lysandre, who was halfway done packing up his teleport scroll, just sighed and rolled his shoulders. "Oh sure, why not? Let’s just make this a full royal tour."

Then he glanced at Osric. "I’ve never changed three people’s appearance in one hour. Do you know what that does to my magical chakra alignment?"

Osric smirked. "Sounds like a you problem."

Brother Lysandre groaned like he aged ten years on the spot. "Fine. Sit. Still. And if anyone blinks wrong while I’m casting, I’m turning you into toads. Ugly ones."

Osric sat on the couch like a smug cat.

I plopped down beside him, mumbling under my breath, "Unbelievable. I planned a perfectly irresponsible solo adventure, and now I have a bodyguard."

"Correction," Osric said, not looking at me. "A very handsome bodyguard with excellent instincts."

I threw a pillow at him.

It missed.

By a lot.

And he didn’t even flinch. Just sat there. Smirking.

Like he knew it would miss.

Which honestly made it worse.

Much worse.

I slumped back on the couch with a dramatic groan, arms flailing like I’d just lost a battle against fate, destiny, and men with inflated egos.

Marshi, now curled on my lap in his adorable disguise, gave a long, world-weary sigh—one paw over his face like he couldn’t believe this was his life now.

Same, Marshi.

Same.

And just like that...

My secret mission—my glorious, mysterious, solo quest into the heart of the Empire to uncover the dark truth about Elaenia—had officially gained two unwanted passengers.

One: a warrior-knight with too many cheekbones and too much moral responsibility.

Two: a fluffy cat who used to be a divine beast and was now wearing a pink ribbon against his will.

And that, dear stars, is how they somehow joined me on a highly confidential, absolutely unsanctioned, totally undercover mission...

...which I absolutely, positively, definitely cannot tell them about.

Even if it kills me.

(And knowing my luck? It probably will.)