The day after returning home, trouble found me fast.

“Ugh, this long hair is such a hassle. And why are my wings so damp?” Only at bedtime did I realize how much my daily routines had changed.

First, changing clothes. With wings on my back, regular outfits wouldn’t fit—the church-issued dress after reincarnation had an open back and shoulder straps designed for wings, slipped on from the bottom up.

After stripping off the dress, I realized I had nothing else to wear. I headed straight for the bathhouse, planning to raid the wardrobe later.

Bathing proved even trickier. I turned on the shower, ready to wash head-to-toe like I did as a guy.

Water soaked my hair instantly, tangling it over my eyes. Worse, my wings got drenched too. Unlike the spiritual liquid in the reincarnation pool that evaporated on contact, ordinary water clung heavily, dripping endlessly from both hair and feathers.

Applying soap became painfully awkward. My smooth, elastic skin, slender limbs, and subtle curves made me blush just touching myself. I had to cover certain areas with my hands to wash—unable to face my own reflection.

“This is impossible! Maid! Is anyone there?!”

In the end, two maids washed me while I blindfolded myself. So embarrassing. I’d bathed alone since childhood, yet now I needed help.

The servants already knew my identity—it was no big secret. They’d been flustered at first about bathing the former young master, but seeing my current form, they quickly relaxed. Though their “professional” scrubbing grew increasingly bold.

“Wait—where are you touching?! Stop pinching my wings! Ah! And don’t go near *there*—are you doing that on purpose?! Ngh!”

“Hold still, Young Ma—ah, no, Young Miss. We’re professionals. Don’t run!”

An hour later, when Weihui entered, I’d survived the hellish ordeal. I sat on a stool, wings and hair spread over a basin of fire-element crystals. These cheap, practical stones radiated heat when ignited—common even in ordinary homes for winter warmth.

Two maids, done playing around, gently brushed my hair and wings behind me. The warmth was so soothing I nearly drifted off.

“What is it, Brother?” Weihui asked.

“Don’t call me ‘Brother’ anymore. It’s ‘Sister’ now. Actually—just ‘Sister’ is fine. No need for ‘-sama’.” She hadn’t adjusted to my new identity yet, but at least she could address me as an equal now—no more honorifics required for the heir.

“Yes, Sister-sama. What did you need?” Clearly, my correction was wasted.

“Never mind. I have no proper clothes. Will you accompany me shopping tomorrow? I’ll also need a wearable dress—yours can be altered. Our builds are nearly identical now.”

Truth was, we resembled each other closely: silver hair, gray eyes, delicate but not stunning features. From afar, I looked like a long-haired version of Weihui—undeniably sisters, though not twins.

“Understood, Sister-sama. I’ll pick a dress for the maids to modify. Just leave space for the wings, correct?” Without waiting for my reply, she left. My wings and hair now dry, I dismissed the maids and prepared for bed.

Sleeping brought new problems. My favorite pajamas were useless. Lying flat pressed painfully on my wing roots; stomach-sleeping felt awkward with my new chest. Side-sleeping left hair tangled under my cheek.

Past midnight, I finally found a comfortable position: curled on my side, hair swept back, wings wrapped around me like a feather sleeping bag—one wing beneath me as cushion, the other draped over like a blanket.

So when Weihui knocked the next morning, I was still cocooned in bed, reluctant to move. She barged in and peeled the wing shielding my face.

“Sister-sama, wake up! Your acceptance letter arrived. Plus, we need to buy all the academy supplies today.”