In the crisp, clean cold of the morning, a young man knelt on the ground. The assassin who had steadfastly protected his daughter after she had turned into a corpse, lay motionless on the ground. The earth had absorbed the fresh blood, and the tragic smell dissipated in the dawn air.
"How long are you going to wallow there?"
A lethargic retort, with a hint of cruelty.
No sighs of resignation or sorrow, just a seemingly natural young man's voice.
The person sitting on the pile of rubble was no longer a red-haired witch, but a handsome black-haired, red-eyed young man in the attire of a knight, exuding a noble air.
By adjusting the muscles on his face, the spine, and waist, not only is the body line feminized, the center of gravity also aligns more with a female's posture. Then with a slight effort on the hair color and vocal cords, no one could see through the witch's disguise.
