“I’ll dress you up.”

“Yes, please… Wait, what?”

Mail, who had been responding lifelessly, was suddenly startled. Riela wanted to dress her up herself. Who? Well, that was obvious. Mail, who had been lying down, hurriedly sat up, flustered.

“…You’ll dress me up? Me?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Right now!”

Riela answered without hesitation, flashing a wide smile, her eyes sparkling like a child who’d found a new toy. Mail broke into a cold sweat. This was a crisis.

What exactly did Riela mean by “I’ll dress you up”? There were two possible interpretations.

Either she would do Mail’s makeup and hair herself, like playing with a doll, or she’d command the maids to dress Mail up while overseeing everything personally.

‘Both are crises.’

The first option was self-evident, but the second wasn’t much better. Mail knew all too well Riela’s peculiar aesthetic preferences. Riela was someone who believed that wearing three necklaces around your neck would make you three times prettier. If Riela took charge of dressing someone else, disaster was inevitable.

Mail, in this crisis, managed to keep a composed expression as she spoke.

“Um, Princess, it’s fine if you don’t dress me up.”

“It’s only fine if I dress you up.”

If Riela ever asked for someone’s consent before doing something, it would be the day the sky split open. Unfortunately, the sky was intact, and Riela was as self-assured as ever. Mail resignedly realized that this wasn’t something she could avoid.

“You said you wanted to dress me up right now?”

“Yes.”

“And how will you dress me up?”

“Beautifully!”

“Glittery, sparkly, and frilly?”

“Yes!”

Riela clapped her hands, delighted that Mail understood exactly what she had in mind. It was no surprise that Mail was plunged into a pit of despair.

She glanced at the clock. The time was 4 p.m. Her master had told her to come to the garden at 6 p.m. to retrieve baskets and rugs.

It wasn’t a big deal if she missed it, but the baskets and tableware were borrowed items. Mail, sensible as always, thought it would be better to return them by today. Looking troubled, she gave Riela a desperate look.

If she couldn’t avoid it…

“Princess.”

“Yes?”

…she could at least steer it in a different direction.

“Do you remember when you said I looked like a tree?”

It was the day they’d first clashed in Lady Ormil’s residence. Riela had mentioned it as they walked back, observing Mail’s brown hair swaying in the wind by the corridor window. Riela, surprisingly, hadn’t forgotten and nodded.

“I did. Why?”

“Could you dress me up like a tree?”

“Hm?”

“I look like a tree, right? So please! Make me look like a tree.”

There was, presumably, no tree in the world adorned with dangling jewels and lace. Mail decided to take her chances with that.

In the end, Mail’s plan was a success. Riela beamed as she led Mail to the mirror.

“How’s this? Isn’t it pretty?”

“Ta-da!” Rose, who’d somehow appeared beside them, added her own sound effects.

“…It’s beautiful.”

Mail’s reaction came a little late, not because the reflection was strange but because she was genuinely amazed. Her voice held no reluctance—only admiration. She was truly surprised.

At first, she’d thought of asking Riela to keep the look simple. But she quickly abandoned that idea. Asking such a thing from someone so thrilled about making her look pretty would be pointless.

Plain and modest wouldn’t work. After racking her brain for a solution, Mail had finally come up with something plausible.

‘A tree. Dress me up beautifully, but like a beautiful tree.’

She figured even a tree dressed up nicely wouldn’t end up too extravagant. And her gamble had paid off, producing an unexpectedly delightful result.

“You look truly lovely.”

Rose, who had provided the sound effects, stepped closer and gave her a thumbs-up. Her compliment was genuine. Mail’s completed look was undeniably beautiful. Even Riela, others, and, surprisingly, Mail herself thought so.

Mail gazed into the mirror, feeling strangely moved.

“I didn’t expect you’d make me look this beautiful.”

“Did I do well?”

“You did well.”

“Is it amazing?”

“It’s amazing.”

Riela’s confidence surged, as she crossed her arms with a haughty air and gave a small cough. Yet, somehow, she didn’t come across as annoying. Rather, it felt like she deserved it.

Riela called in the maids to help her get ready. When she said, “I’ll make you beautiful,” she didn’t mean she would personally apply makeup but rather that she would give detailed instructions on how everything should be done.

“Makeup should be like this, the dress should be that one, the jewelry just so.” Riela directed each detail with unexpected precision and attention.

“I’ve always been pretty remarkable,” she declared.

When her goal was ‘beauty,’ she had crafted a moving bouquet of lace. But this time, when aiming for ‘like a tree,’ she produced an unexpectedly exquisite masterpiece.

It was unclear whether it was sheer luck or a hidden talent. Mail took a step back from the mirror to take in the full view.

Her brown hair had been neatly smoothed down and styled to gleam. She skipped the necklace and hair ornament and instead chose earrings with red stones. Her dress was an empire style, fitted to subtly highlight her figure without a wide skirt.

The dress was predominantly white, but the hem featured a vivid shade of blue, giving the impression of only that part being dipped in the sea.

Mail studied her reflection in the mirror before slowly spinning around. The hem, gently rippling, looked just like waves.

“Princess.”

“Yes?”

“But why did you pick this dress?”

It was lovely, but it didn’t particularly evoke the image of a tree. Mail had honestly expected Riela to choose a brown or green dress. Now, with her assumption proven wrong, she found herself naturally curious.

“A tree isn’t found just anywhere, you know.”

Hearing Riela’s answer, Mail blinked in confusion. It was technically correct but didn’t really explain why she had chosen this dress. Then Riela continued.

“In my room, there’s a tree, and that tree’s pot looks just like this.”

‘My room’ referred to Riela’s residence back in her homeland. At that, Mail understood. It was common to place bonsai in rooms as decoration. Most likely, the pot was in colors resembling this dress.

Mail’s expression grew a bit peculiar. If that pot had been—though it was unlikely—neon-colored, it would have been a terrifying sight.

“That’s a relief.”

“What is?”

“Oh, nothing. By the way, since we’re on the subject, may I ask you everything?”

Why had she omitted the necklace and hair ornament, and why, of all options, had she chosen these particular earrings? Surprisingly, each choice had a reason. Riela, with a confident air, began to explain with a steady flow of chatter.

She’d avoided the necklace, thinking it didn’t suit a tree. The hair ornament was left out because none had the right color or shape to resemble leaves.

The round, red gemstone earrings were chosen because they resembled fruit. And as she’d mentioned, the dress echoed the colors of the pot.

Finally, for makeup, Riela had explicitly instructed the maids to go ‘like a tree.’ After some thought, the maids had lightly dusted her eyelids with soft brown tones and applied a rich, fruit-like color to her lips. The result was flawless.

“So you were genuinely aiming to dress me like a tree.”

“Yup, like a beautiful tree!”

“Yes, I look beautiful.”

Mail, looking away from the mirror, met Riela’s proud, smiling face and returned her smile. Whatever the intentions, transforming like this had put her in a good mood.

Mail wasn’t someone with average looks. On the contrary, she’d inherited her father’s striking beauty, a rare charm that had captivated her betrothed at first sight. Now, with her natural beauty further enhanced by careful adornment, she naturally drew admiration.

If she’d appeared at the palace gathering looking like this, she would likely have drawn quite a few wary stares.

‘Pretty is pretty. It’s certainly better than an over-the-top display. But this is its own thing…’

Mail checked the time. It was already six o’clock. If she wasn’t going to cancel her appointment, she had to head out immediately. She gave herself a last glance in the mirror.

‘It looks like I put effort into this.’

Why that felt troubling, she didn’t know. She idly played with the ends of her hair before finally stepping out of her chambers.

Rohayden, for his part, was someone indifferent to others’ beauty. It wasn’t that he couldn’t objectively distinguish between beautiful and plain, but he felt little emotion at others’ appearances. Several anecdotes illustrate this.

A beautiful woman once displayed her sensual figure in a nearly bare outfit. Rohayden thought, She must be cold.

Another beauty smiled seductively, captivating countless men. Rohayden thought, She might trip if she walks while smiling like that.

Yet another woman adorned herself with a voluminous dress and many accessories, looking splendid. Rohayden thought, It must have taken ages to put that on.

In short, whatever the display, he never simply thought, ‘Wow, she’s pretty.’ When it came to appearance, he was simply indifferent.

Some said about him, “He must look at himself in the mirror every morning. How could he not become numb?” Whether he had genuinely become indifferent from this, or it was simply his nature, no one knew.

Regardless, this indifferent Rohayden was currently gazing down at flowers in the garden.

The days were getting longer. By the time darkness would have already fallen on colder days, the warm air now held back the end of the day, maintaining a blue sky. He was quietly admiring the flowers in the still-bright garden when he suddenly sensed someone’s presence.

Rohayden turned around leisurely. Could it be that Cinderella had come to retrieve the glass slipper he’d tossed aside?

Yet there was something he didn’t know.

The Cinderella who had vanished like she was fleeing had since received a fairy’s help. The plain girl covered in leaves and dirt was transformed by fairy magic into the most beautiful woman of all.

She might have thrown away the glass slipper before becoming beautiful, but that was just an out-of-order coincidence—nevertheless, the magic was powerful.

“Whew, this is more bothersome to walk in than I thought.”

So much so that excitement banged on the door of the indifferent prince’s heart.

Not just a gentle knock, but a loud bang.

“It would’ve been nice if it were just a bit shorter… Oh, Master.”

Mail, who had been cautiously walking in, paused when she spotted Rohayden. Though she wasn’t surprised, she didn’t know why she stopped so suddenly.

Standing there, she unconsciously checked her hair and attire. She was unaware that this was an act of caring about how she appeared to the other person, performed naturally and without realizing.

“You arrived first.”

“…”

“Um… so, I came to find the basket.”

Mail suddenly realized she was trying not to babble. And that realization embarrassed her a little.

Worrying about speaking incoherently meant she was nervous.

Nervous? Why would she be nervous about coming to find a basket in the garden? This confusion rippled beneath Mail’s calm exterior.

And there was another person equally bewildered.

Rohayden was so taken aback that he found himself at a loss for words.

His well-groomed brown hair flowed smoothly along its natural waves. The faintly visible lines of his figure were soft and graceful. The dress, pristine white with jade green edges, rippled like small waves as she moved.

A lady in a dazzlingly white dress stood with her feet in the blue sea. While walking like that, she suddenly stopped and looked at him. Their eyes met.

‘Good grief.’

Rohayden raised a hand to cover his mouth. He couldn’t believe what he’d just felt.

He thought she was beautiful.