Chapter 28

That evening, Charlo held a banquet unlike any other—an open-air feast in the plaza of the South District.

Electric streetlamps, erected around the perimeter of the square, bathed the area in light as bright as high noon. The attendees wore clothes that were not luxurious, but clean and neat, weaving through the crowd toward the rows of sizzling barbecue grills.

Skewers of meat roasted over charcoal, dripping fat and hissing with flavor. Long tables were laden with fresh fruit salads and simple sides.

Miss Demon Lord, still clad in her heavy mage robes and veiled in purple, stood at the edge, watching the laughter and joy of the crowd.

There were no polite, hypocritical nobles at this banquet. There was no elegant orchestral music, nor were there troupes of professional dancers.

The food was not the flesh of rare magical beasts or delicacies from distant lands. It was ordinary beef, mutton, and fish, accompanied by common vegetables and fruits.

"So, what do you think of this banquet?"

Charlo walked up to her, holding a glass of ordinary grape wine, and asked softly.

"Not much," she evaluated mercilessly. "Ordinary mortals, ordinary food. There isn't even music. It hardly looks like a banquet at all."

"Where am I supposed to find a court orchestra in this rural backwater?" Charlo laughed, shaking his head. He looked out at the people in the distance. "But I think this is the best kind of banquet."

"Look at them. They are laughing from the bottom of their hearts. There is abundant food, plenty of wine, and they are chatting freely with friends and family... Everyone is happy. Isn't that the definition of the best banquet?"

"Is it..." Clyris stared at the crowd, her eyes unfocused. A thousand thoughts flashed through her mind, but she found no words to express them.

"A noble's banquet is merely a continuation of political warfare. Every gesture, every sentence is a probe or a parry. But here? There are no such rules!" Charlo said, his eyes twinkling. "No taboos, no schemes. Just enjoying good food, bragging loudly, and experiencing the most essential form of happiness!"

He blinked at her playfully. "So why are you retreating to the shadows, Miss Clyris?"

"I..." Clyris unconsciously took a step back. "No, I... I am not suited for this kind of occasion!"

"Hmm... true enough." Charlo rubbed his chin, looking her up and down. "Wearing mage robes to a party really isn't suitable!"

Like a magic trick, he produced a clothing box from behind his back. "So, please accept this dress and go change!"

"Eh? No... I mean..." Clyris looked at the box in panic, waving her hands in refusal.

"Look over there. Alice and Freya are watching. They are waiting for you!" Charlo gestured toward a table in the distance.

Clyris followed his gaze.

Freya was wearing a pink and white dress, holding a drumstick in each hand, gnawing away happily. Alice, dressed in a pale blue gown, was sipping wine with the elegance of a refined lady.

Seeing Clyris look their way, Freya waved a chicken leg enthusiastically. Alice stood up, held her skirt, and curtsied slightly before sitting back down.

"This... fine."

In the end, she accepted Charlo's box and went home to change.

Back at her house, Clyris opened the box. Inside lay a long white dress.

She shed the heavy, stifling mage robes and slowly put on the new garment. The white fabric was soft and comfortable against her skin.

The dress featured a slit reaching the mid-thigh and was paired with a fitted black bodice. It cinched tightly at her slender waist while accentuating the fullness of her chest.

"This..."

Clyris stood before the full-length mirror, staring blankly at the tall, voluptuous woman reflected within.

The woman in the mirror was stunningly glamorous. The white skirt highlighted her long, shapely legs. Her skin, pale as jade, seemed to glow under the moonlight. Her curves were perfect—one inch more would be fat, one inch less would be thin.

Her features were exquisite, her face lovely. Her smooth black hair cascaded down her back, adding an air of mystery. Her crimson eyes, usually so cold, now held a look of dazed wonder.

"This is... me..."

She placed a pale hand against the glass, matching palm to palm with her reflection.

Staring into her own eyes, she suddenly realized with striking clarity: She was fully, undeniably a woman.

Her heart skipped a beat, then returned to its rhythm.

Clyris's gaze gradually regained its calm composure. She reattached her veil and stepped out the door.

When she returned to the plaza, the banquet was winding down.

People were holding hands, singing tuneless songs at the top of their lungs, and laughing uproariously.

Charlo was right in the middle of it. In fact, he was leading the chaos!

He had his arm around Davis with zero regard for noble dignity, singing lyrics that made no sense while forcing wine down his general's throat.

"So... why did I agree to this?"

Clyris sighed internally and tried to walk past them unnoticed.

But Charlo spotted her instantly. His eyes widened, and he let go of Davis, walking unsteadily toward her.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Miss Clyris! I knew you would look good in that, but I didn't expect you to look this good! You look like a goddess!"

"Do you think I am like those noblewomen, that flattery will make me happy?" Clyris looked at him coldly.

"Uh... haha! No, no!" Charlo laughed sheepishly, his face flushed with drink. "I was just genuinely exclaiming!"

"Are you finished exclaiming? If you are, can you tell me what on earth you are doing?"

"It's the closing dance, of course!"

"Closing... dance?" She looked doubtfully at the crowd, who sounded more like howling wolves than singers.

"Sigh, since we don't have musicians, everyone is just singing whatever they want. Plus, they're all drunk, so please forgive the terrible pitch!" Charlo scratched his head, laughing heartily.

"I can see you're drunk too. 'Terrible pitch' doesn't even begin to describe it..." Miss Demon Lord sighed helplessly, looking at his flushed face.

"Haha! Miss Clyris, care to join us?" Charlo raised his glass in invitation.

"I respectfully decline!"

She rolled her eyes, ignored him, and walked toward the ladies' section.

The atmosphere on the ladies' side was much better. They hadn't drunk as much and were relatively quiet.

"Good evening, Alice, Freya!" She greeted them as she approached.

"Good evening... Miss Clyris!" Alice stood up, swaying slightly.

"If you're drunk, just sit down." Clyris placed a hand on Alice's shoulder and gently pressed her back into the chair.

"Mmm... okay, Clyris!" Freya responded, forcefully swallowing a mouthful of food.

This little girl had been eating for the entire banquet, yet her flat stomach showed no sign of bulging. It was practically magical.

Clyris sat down beside them, watching.

Alice, usually so serious and rigorous, was now lying unladylike on the table, clutching a wine bottle and giggling. Freya, usually so haughty and reserved, had abandoned all pretense, stuffing meat into her mouth with gusto.

It was just as Charlo had said. Everyone was finding the simplest form of happiness.

Did I find it too?

No. I am not like them.

Clyris shook her head internally, but she didn't mind.

This is enough.

I am different from them, different from everyone here... Keeping a distance is best. For them, and for me.