Editor 144

“That really is an amazing thing!”

“Is it something to be amazed at?”

“Madame de Tempête de Neige was the noblest of nobles, wasn’t she? It’s astonishing that she knew beauty skills.”

“Oh, Dione, so there are things you don’t know. My grandmother was originally a lady’s maid in the Tempête de Neige family. She got hired as a sewing maid but, with her outstanding hairdressing skills, she took over the lady’s dressing room, and not long after the lady’s early death, she took her place herself. Soon my mother was born, and the count didn’t live much longer.”

Sensing she was about to hear a rare piece of gossip, Dione’s pale blue eyes began to sparkle.

Buoyed by her audience’s interest, Chel continued.

Marie was born an illegitimate child of nobility, but she had a great sense of style, exceptional dexterity, and striking beauty. Once she washed her status clean, nothing could stop her.

The young countess with mysterious navy hair and silver eyes eventually reigned over Karolingian society before the revolution, and became the king’s mistress. All while still in mourning.

At this point, Dione gasped, and Chel, who was fitting a razor blade into the handle after putting down the scissors, laughed.

“Once she became the king’s mistress, she was entrusted with all those hidden assets of the Étençel royal family.”

“I guarantee this is the most fascinating socialite secret I’ve heard this year.”

“I’m honored to have provided some enjoyment. Alright, Isiel, take a look. All done.”

Chel, having trimmed the bob short and neatly finished the hair at the nape of Isiel’s neck, handed him a hand mirror. Then, pulling another square mirror from the toolkit, she held it behind him so he could see the back. It was truly skillful work.

“I’m always indebted to you.”

“And I to you. I’m glad to trim hair as beautiful as rose petals.”

The scissors and comb, far too luxurious and ornate for a practical set, were returned to their box.

Chel dusted off Isiel’s hair with clean muslin and took off the gown. The result was fresh and elegant.

As Dione gently scratched Behemoth’s chin, which was purring, she said,

“I’m thinking of trying a bob cut next time, too. Until now, I felt it was awkward to cut my hair since I’m not a knight.”

Since knights wielded swords, even in the previous generation there were women in uniform with short hair. But for non-knights, it was still unusual.

Until the reign of Queen Carmela, herself a knight, women with ether sensitivity mostly became wizards.

Influenced by Queen Isolde, known as the first wizard, it was rare back then for ether-sensitive women to become knights.

But now in Albion, such distinctions were fading.

“Even at the Violet Club, you often see young ladies with bobs these days. Whatever the style, it would suit Dione like a picture.”

The Violet Club, after the flying club, was another group Chel had joined; it was open to both working women and students.

They pooled dues to help one another, produced pamphlets and a weekly magazine, and supported the suffrage movement.

“Haha, such flattery. But Chel, you’ve always had sharp short hair since long ago.”

“Since I was seven, to be exact.”

Maybe because she was telling Dione her story, Chel recalled the day she first cut her hair.

Katarina didn’t recognize from the start that her daughter was different from others. She fought long with the child who hated dresses, ribbons, and long hair.

The one who ended the struggle was Marie. She herself cut her seven-year-old granddaughter’s hair short and had shorts and black shoes made as she wanted.

Marie Tempête de Neige left Chel two legacies.

One was a wealth of fortune, and the other was the lesson to live as you want, wherever you are.

“So, Isiel, you should enjoy life a bit more and do what you want, okay? Don’t always get tied up with studying, training, and guarding Aser!”

“I’m living exactly as I wish. If anything, Chel, you could afford to live a bit less adventurously. Jumping into reckless flying like last time without caring for your body. Even Professor Rosa, an outstanding swordswoman, suffered a serious injury…”

“Ah, enough of the lecture~.”

Chel joined the flying club last year. Only adult ether-sensitives who could use [Enhance] could join.

They flew wooden gliders, but the machines were so unsafe that one in three flights ended in a crash.

For those without ether sensitivity, it was immediately fatal; even with [Enhance], a fall from high altitude still meant injury.

Isiel, her housemate, had noticed the new scar running across Chel’s scapula last month. Magic could heal wounds, but scars were hard to erase.

“Still, thanks to it, I made it to level 5! Isn’t that a huge achievement?”

“Chelestes.”

Just as Isiel was about to start a full-on lecture, Behemoth pricked up his ears and suddenly stood. The cat leapt from Dione’s lap and dashed toward the entrance.

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Aser and Cleio arrived at the entrance to the research fellows’ lab. While Aser unloaded the bike, Cleio invoked ether to unlock the door.

“[Praise the great and wise Behemoth of the arts.]”

Jingle jingle. Click.

“That magic lock works great, but… can’t you change the incantation?”

“It’s already set, so I can’t.”

The Tiflaum version voice-recognition lock, infused with the essence of Albion’s magical science, owed about 80% to Behemoth’s wisdom, 15% to the inspiration of alcohol, and 5% to Cleio’s idea.

And, per chief maker Behemoth’s opinion, the opening incantation… ended up as it was.

Aser grumbled every time he opened the door. He was still dissatisfied with being ranked below Behemoth.

‘He’s all grown up and looks like a young man everywhere, but at times like this, he acts like a child again.’

Thudthudthudthudthud!

“Mraaaaaaow! Mwaaaaaooo! (I thought I’d grow old waiting! Why is it so hard to see you!)”

Behemoth, running at full speed, stood up on his hind legs and clung to Cleio’s thigh with his front paws, making Cleio stagger.

Apparently, he was upset that Cleio had only opened the lab door after returning from fieldwork, then immediately left to fetch champagne.

Aser, carrying in the box of champagne, clicked his tongue.

“Mot, Mot. Take it easy. You’ll knock Ray over.”

“Mrowk! (Shut up!)”

“Why do I feel like I just got cursed out by a cat?”

Dione had always understood Behemoth, but it seemed Aser and the others were also getting better at interpreting the cat’s words.

Cleio quickly changed the subject.

“Must be your imagination. Hurry up and bring the drinks in.”

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“I can’t bear to see Lord Aser’s most precious asset treated that way.” With that threat from Dione, Aser finished shaving and washing at lightning speed.

Aser, his hair now a richer gold from being wet, laid out a tablecloth on the folding table, and Cleio put the champagne box in the circle and cast a [Chill] spell.

Now, two years after reaching level 5, Cleio’s ether control had advanced to the point where he could adjust the temperature of drinks by type.

‘Liognes is a demi-sec, so it tastes better if it’s colder than a brut.’

Everyone here knew that the future archmage’s favorite spell was, of all things, [Chill].

The twins, arriving after Aser and Cleio, opened the snack basket Lady Charlotte had prepared.

It had duck breast and orange pistachio pâté en croûte, thinly sliced jambon, bite-size sandwiches with egg and truffle, aged Comté cheese, onion chutney, olives, and pickles.

Chel and Isiel set up mismatched folding and outdoor chairs for everyone. Behemoth had already claimed the sunbed for sunbathing.

The spring courtyard was bathed in warm sunlight, and the lilacs, sending roots under the flagstones, scattered their petals.

The twins giggled at the tiny lavender petals floating in their champagne glasses.

“I never knew day drinking was this good. Now I see why Ray’s so obsessed with alcohol.”

“A glass of champagne in the daytime is just perfect.”

Chel, hearing the twins, crossed her legs the other way and smiled meaningfully.

“Mmm, our Angelium ladies have become proper adults.”

“Is this okay? I feel a bit guilty as a former guardian that our young lord may have been a bad influence.”

“It’s fine, Lady Dione. We’re only having one glass each.”

“That’s right. Lippi and I aren’t going to get drunk and kill all the wisteria like Aser and Ray, or make the pond water shoot up into the sky.”

“Wait, I never heard about the wisteria. What’s that, young lord?”

Cleio, pouring more drinks for everyone, deftly changed the subject.

“Lady Dione, it’s a rare chance to enjoy Liognes. Let’s drink. It’s my birthday.”

“Hmph, you’ve grown up and lost your cuteness? I’ll let it slide just for today.”

Dione liked Cleio’s matter-of-fact way of mentioning his birthday.

Mrs. Canton had once whispered to her, “The young lord has never properly celebrated his birthday. The day after is his mother’s death anniversary.”

So last year, Dione had planned a birthday party at Cleio’s lab. Everyone enjoyed it, and it soon became an annual event for Aser and friends.

Birthday greetings, gift boxes, and several toasts passed.

The white cake Dione had brought was from the most popular patisserie in Rundaine: light sponge layered with lemon cream and covered in snowy icing.

Dione, her cheeks rosy from the champagne, said,

“To think our young lord, who used to look like a dried fish, has grown so well. This Dione Greyer is just overwhelmed.”

“Ha ha ha. Dried fish, she says. Did you hear that, Lippi?”

“Yeah, but now he looks like a streetlamp. Is that growing up?”

“Oh my, Angelium girls, what do you know? The young lord looks just like Baron Aser did in his youth. His eyes and hair are a bit lighter so he seems more delicate, but… he’s grown as tall as Lord Aser himself.”

Dione’s opinion was, of course, fiercely rebutted by Chel, Lippi, and Letitia.

“Hmph, he’s so tall now, it’s just awkward. He used to be shorter than me.”

Chel, who disliked that the once-weakling now looked down on her,

“And what’s the point of being tall? My father saw Ray and said he didn’t look worth even the price of one person. Said it’s like a sheet of writing paper walking around.”

“No, Letitia. At least now he’s more like cardboard than stationery.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Before he was so pitiful and scrawny, barely looked human, but now he’s just a skinny person.”

The twins’ mouths of truth had opened.

Aser, who had quickly downed two glasses of champagne, poured a third and jumped in between the twins, Chel, and Dione.

“Ray’s improved health is all thanks to us, his friends. We woke him up every morning and dragged him to morning training.”

“That’s right. There were five of us, so it was perfect for Monday through Friday. Hehe.”