Lofu’s maid outfit today was so revealing that even Hale felt the little maid truly didn’t see him as an outsider.

At first glance, it followed the classic black-and-white scheme of noblehouse maids.

But between two gently rising curves, a deliberate heart-shaped cutout peeked through.

Lofu, in the bloom of youth, had dewy pink skin that showed vividly there.

Yet that wasn’t the main issue.

The real problem?

On the sides of her dress, one could almost see…

…her petite sideboob, delicate as a young rabbit’s.

Too… how to put it?

So spicy.

Way too spicy.

The teasing, half-concealed kind of spicy.

Lofu’s expression remained utterly calm, unfazed by Hale’s slight surprise or Maria’s wide-eyed shock.

She simply chirped in a sweet voice, “Young Master, is today’s outfit to your satisfaction, as requested?”

That single line sharpened Maria’s glare toward Hale—like he was a maggot.

Hale hadn’t *actually* asked for this level of risqué. He’d only joked about “pushing boundaries slightly” that morning. This defenseless design? He could slip a hand right in. She’d totally mastered the art of suggestive dressing.

Before he could reply, Lofu stepped toward Maria, offering the silver tray.

“Is this Sister a guest of the Young Master?”

“I am Handmaiden Maria, in service to Lady Christine. Since Lady Christine will meet Viscount Hale privately this afternoon…”

Maria held back the real reason—assessing his conduct. She feared troubling Lofu, who seemed long resigned to her role. Better to caution Hale alone later.

“Oh? *The* Lady Christine of Ron Cathedral?” Lofu asked.

“Indeed.”

Maria brightened—public recognition mattered deeply for the seven Vestal Candidates vying for Holy Maidenhood.

“Ah… I’m so happy for Young Master! To receive an invitation from Vestal Candidate Christine!” Lofu beamed, then added in flawless innocence, “Though… if Lady Christine were to fall for his charm, it might harm her future path, don’t you think?”

*Stop talking*, Hale begged silently. *Is she doing this on purpose?*

One more line like that, and Maria—Christine’s die-hard devotee—might glare him into dust.

Then it hit him: *Perfect chance to craft my persona.*

What if Christine *was* interested? Best to make this meeting the last—without bruising her dignity.

“Right. Lofu, prepare formal attire for my afternoon meeting with Christine.”

Maria’s composure cracked. *Does he truly believe he can charm Lady Christine?* A woman devoted to the divine, guiding humanity’s future? *How could she possibly…?* She nearly sighed: *So ordinarily confident.*

“Baron Hale,” she said tightly, “please mind your conduct. Lady Christine is a Vestal Candidate. Boundaries exist between genders.”

“I know,” Hale replied smoothly. “I won’t take initiative. But whether *she* will? Hard to say.”

Silence.

As long as *he* wasn’t embarrassed, the awkwardness landed on others.

Good enough. He’d shaped the image—no enemies made. At worst, they’d think him “ordinarily confident.”

He didn’t care. Truly. Others’ opinions meant little; living well mattered more.

“Rest assured, Viscount Hale,” Maria said, voice strained. “Lady Christine seeks only to guide you back to virtue after hearing of your… habits. Please cease harassing other young ladies.”

Maria simmered.

Lofu hid a smile.

*Of course I meant it*, the little maid thought. *Let outsiders judge him. As long as he saves time for me each day…*

Still, Christine unnerved her. One of the Church’s seven famed Vestal Candidates—why meet *him*? Outsiders saw him as a womanizing villain. But Lofu knew better. He liked pretty girls, yes—but never crossed lines with *her*.

That three-year-old rumor? “He seduced and abandoned her”? Fake. The accuser wasn’t even prettier than *her*. Why chase others when *she* was right here?

And those endless complaint letters? As if he were a time-management guru—juggling dozens while training daily to earn his place in the Black Knights Order?

*What if Christine sees his true side…?*

“Maria,” Lofu chimed, pressing subtly closer to Hale—the side cutouts and her ample figure making contact inevitable—“doesn’t so many girls liking our Young Master prove his charm?”

“Miss Lofu… this is inappropriate,” Maria stammered, flustered by the proximity and bold words.

She was utterly out of her depth.

This shattered her devout worldview.

“Enough. Let’s eat. I’ll meet Christine later,” Hale cut in.

“Very well, Baron Hale. Just remember—Lady Christine is unlike any girl you’ve met.”

Seeing Maria’s worried confusion, Hale stopped. No need to push further. The persona was set.

…

Meanwhile, in the attic of Ron Cathedral’s western district in Saint Louis…

A golden-haired maiden in a gown white as gardenia petals leaned against the railing.

So pure, graceful, luminous—

that the white doves soaring above and the garden reflected in her azure eyes seemed to fade beside her.

“Hale,” she murmured, “the Divine showed me in a dream… you are the most unique man. So… to keep you…”

“What surprise should I prepare for you?”