She slipped into the simplest white shirt, adjusting the neatly pleated ruffles. Though the collar was tightly fastened, the crisp fabric unapologetically traced the curves of her figure.

Her long pink hair was tied into a high ponytail, secured with a black satin ribbon in a precise bow. Stray strands at the nape were pinned with tiny wire hairpins, the metal carefully hidden beneath her hair.

She’d swapped skirts for slim-fit trousers that accentuated her slender legs and graceful silhouette. Flat leather shoes tapped *tap-tap* against the floor—comfortable, practical.

Evelia’s outfit carried a masculine formalwear vibe, yet closer inspection revealed delicate feminine embroidery woven into the design.

She wore it for one reason only: to step outside.

Why this style? Simple. She had been a man.

Though she’d grown accustomed to maid dresses, panties, and white stockings, during free time, she chose what felt true to herself.

Like Arman—who could eat anything but still craved his favorites—Evelia could wear anything, yet chose what she genuinely preferred.

Once an assassin, she’d hidden beneath a black cloak, passing as a wandering mercenary. In this era, such mystery wasn’t uncommon.

But now? No need.

She was no longer the nameless “Crimson Crow,” but Evelia Crozier—a maid with a legitimate identity, reborn. Even if fleeting, she cherished standing openly in the sunlight.

Coins tucked securely, she left the manor. Servants had scheduled rest days; today was hers.

Though Arman stationed knights at the estate, his true post lay with the Royal Knights Order. When he remained, she served. When he departed, she requested brief leave from the old butler and roamed freely—returning by dusk.

Today held no mission, no orders. Just clothes.

Initially, she’d packed only plain petticoats, assuming Arman would be easy to handle. She was wrong. He was… complicated.

Over time, she’d learned: Arman smiled warmly, yet kept careful distance. Beneath the cheer, wariness lingered—a hunter’s vigilance. A resonance between predators.

Sometimes she wondered if they were cut from the same cloth. But his charm felt deceptively smooth. Unreadable.

—Anyway. New clothes.

This outing aimed to adorn herself.

*“—The moment he saw her step from the fitting room in that soft pink gown, the scent of peach blossoms washed over him.

Like their first meeting—a single pink petal gently tapping his heart.

A blush dusted the maiden’s cheeks as she shyly met the knight’s stunned gaze. After a breathless pause, he rubbed his nose, looked away, and murmured, ‘Lovely.’”*

—A scene from that shoujo novel. The very moment Evelia intended to recreate.

Where the plain-clad maid, in an elegant gown, left even the stoic knight flustered.

—So. Become a beautiful young lady.

Her goal? Simple. Stunning enough to leave Arman speechless.

Problem: zero experience. Over a decade as a man—with no interest in women—left her clueless about “beauty,” let alone captivating *him*.

She’d even joked: if Arman truly preferred horses over women, why not have the Second Prince turn her into a fine steed? Easier intel-gathering. Pets hear secrets, after all.

…Too absurd.

Instead, she’d buy reference books first.

A man turned woman, seeking guides to feminine charm.

If Arman hadn’t disliked reading—and the manor’s library held so few titles—she wouldn’t need to venture out.

At 167 cm, she wasn’t tall, but not short. Her androgynous attire highlighted sharp, handsome features. “Dashing” fit her perfectly.

Yet her presence carried weight. The moment she entered the bookstore, the taller young shopkeeper felt subtle pressure. Cool-eyed, she scanned the room without acknowledging stares, striding straight to the counter.

Had he not been a conscientious, honest man, he might’ve dropped to his knees crying, “Mercy!”

Even Arman’s knights struggled with her cold, dangerous aura. How could townsfolk stay calm?

“W-What can I help you with?” he stammered, forcing a smile while mentally replaying every recent transaction.

“…A beautiful young lady.”

Silence hung. All held their breath.

“I’m sorry?” His face twisted in confusion.

“I want to become a beautiful young lady. Do you have reference books for that?”

The instant the words left her lips, the entire imposing aura she’d carried since stepping inside—*collapsed*.