It felt like yesterday, yet recalling her female disciple’s scheming was already a distant memory.

That time, Xia Mo’s plot was exposed by Xue Yu and severely punished. Since then, she never dared scheme against Xue Yu again.

But Zila never expected—simply because her appearance had transformed into that of a little girl—her “dear disciple” would scheme just to get her into a frilly dress.

Once the sting faded, she forgot the lesson and schemed again. If not for this tiny body, Zila would’ve strung Xia Mo up for a beating.

Still, though she’d agreed, a slow simmer of disgust and resentment brewed in her heart.

*No way would I ever wear a girl’s dress! At most… just this once!*

…

“Wow! So pretty! This one’s cute too~ I’m *so* pretty!”

Noon. Inside a cramped five-square-meter bedroom, an adorably cute little girl twirled joyfully.

Fresh from her bath, Zila changed dress after dress, cradling a small mirror to admire herself.

Truly, as Xia Mo said—every single one suited her perfectly, as if tailor-made.

Each outfit fully showcased Zila’s charm, elevating her beauty. She radiated such innocent allure that anyone, young or old, male or female, would feel an instant urge to dote on her.

Clutching the mirror, she spun in happy circles, laughing with pure, unguarded delight.

“Haha, didn’t you say you wouldn’t wear it, Master? Look how happy you are~” Xia Mo sat on the bed, beaming at the joyful little cutie.

Her words hit Zila like ice water. The blunt truth snapped her out of her vanity.

Zila froze. The mirror slipped slowly from her fingers—*thud*—hitting the floor.

Her bright smile stiffened. A twitch flickered at her lips. Awkward silence swallowed the room.

“And Master… have you trained before? Your dancing was lovely!”

Xia Mo’s praise acted as a catalyst. A cherry-pink blush of shyness bloomed across Zila’s cheeks.

“Ahhh! W-who… who even *likes* these cute… pfft… childish things?!”

“I-I only agreed ’cause I promised! Just… just to satisfy *you*! I don’t *want* to wear this! Taking it off *now*—never again!”

Flustered, Zila instinctively leaned forward slightly, arms stretched behind her, tiny fists clenched, shouting in flustered protest.

“Mhm!” Xia Mo nodded.

She rummaged through the clothes pile and pulled out a slightly worn black-and-white maid outfit. “Master, one last piece left to try~”

“Huh? *More*?” Zila’s cheeks flushed. She turned her head away—but her hand had already reached for the outfit.

Snatching it, she felt the crumpled, rough texture. *Not new at all.*

She turned back. “This maid outfit…?”

“My mom bought it for me on a whim when I was little. Worn it a few times, but still in great shape—no damage! Perfect for you, Master!” Xia Mo declared confidently.

She’d given her word. As a knight, she couldn’t break it.

*Fine. Just… grit my teeth and wear it.*

She swapped the red floral dress for the “secondhand” maid outfit, its faint lingering scent unmistakable.

The outfit’s elegant Western style and Zila’s antennae complemented each other mysteriously—enhancing her cuteness with a delicate, graceful charm.

With Xia Mo’s help, the matching black-and-white headband was tied.

Zila instantly looked fresher, sweeter, impossibly obedient.

“Is this all? My legs feel… chilly.”

Her tiny feet peeked from slightly oversized slippers. Bare legs exposed, winter’s chill clinging to skin where bath-warmth had nearly vanished.

“Of course not, Master. Not fully dressed yet.” Xia Mo produced creamy-white over-the-knee socks, a black-and-white thigh garter, and a clean shoebox.

“Come on~ Big Sister Xiaomo will help!” Xia Mo scooped Zila up excitedly.

“Hey! ‘Big Sister Xiaomo’? And do you think I’m three?! Anyone can put these on!”

But Xia Mo ignored her protests, settling Zila onto her lap, cradling her gently.

Xia Mo lifted one slender leg, eyes sparkling at the snow-pale, delicate skin.

For Zila, even this light touch sent flustered heat rushing through her. Her face flushed shy pink.

The sock glided smoothly from tiny toes over the ankle, up the slender calf, pulled high above the knee—seamlessly blending with her pale skin.

Xia Mo marveled: holding that leg felt like slipping silk over a smooth opal… yet soft as sponge.

For a fleeting second, envy flickered in her eyes—*Such flawless skin…*

She murmured inwardly, *So smooth… the sock slid on too easily… I’m so jealous.*

Aloud, she smacked her lips admiringly: “I’m *so* jealous! Master’s legs are so petite, so soft, so pale, so *smooth*!”

That sincere praise made Zila’s cherry-pink blush explode into a full crimson flush, spreading hot across her entire face.