"Today is the Blessing Ceremony; Lord Amber is the Master of Ceremonies; I'll be taking you both with me in a few moments; the dresses and breakfast are here; change yourself."
With those words, Mida rolled up the curtain and went into the other end of the room on her own, thinking that she had to dress herself up for the event as well.
Milda was evidently not in the habit of taking care of people, and on the table was a small basket of toasted bread, and the cream of corn soup was as thin as water. The two young girls didn't mind at all, though, and they were instantly attracted to the new clothes.
The silver material of the robe was so smooth and cool in her hands that she thought she was pinching a handful of moonlight in the refraction of the morning sun, and I don't know what kind of craftsmanship it was, but Dill couldn't find any trace of stitching on it, but the dress fit every inch of her skin, and Hélène excitedly assured her that it was definitely a magic potion-impregnated vestment.
They looked at each other as they changed into their robes and brushed each other's hair. Only when the fun wore off and the silver-white gowns fell to the floor did Dill feel like she was wearing a silver suit of armor, and her chest felt inexplicably heavy. When she looked back at Hélène, her limbs stiffened under the gowns, and she moved as if she had been tied to puppet strings.
With a severe hangover and nervousness that had frozen her head into a concrete block, Dill fought back the urge to vomit and forced herself to sit at the table.
It tastes like chewing toast without jam. Although Helena was moved to tears by her teacher's cooking for her, she still ate a few bites.
Dill looked at the thin and tasteless corn soup and suddenly remembered something. She fished out a small vial of magic potion dangling from a chain from the clothes she had changed out of, and a honey-golden liquid flowed inside.
"Try this."
A drop of the golden witch's fire entered the thin soup, and as if by magic, the soup oil floating on the surface swooshed and ignited, startling both Dill and Helena, but fortunately it was only a flare of fire. The bowl of soup gurgled with boiling bubbles; the rim of the bowl was caramelized golden sugar; a rich aroma came to the nose; it smelled like freshly baked cream soup.
Dill sampled the poison and took a sip; it was as spicy as ever, and then her tongue quickly tasted honey, cheese, and baked batter—all kinds of rich and colorful flavors she hadn't expected, warming her stiff and aching stone head.
All the aroma and heat needed for the whole morning seemed to be in there, and Helena ate it with gusto. She said happily to Dill, "I wish I could travel with you."
Dill's confidence suddenly grew; she wasn't completely useless; at least she could eat well all the time when she went out.
The two of them ate and ate, digesting the tension together.
When the bright and colorful Mida came out, she carefully checked the two of them again, frowned deeply for a moment, and finally picked two white lilies from the window and pinned them on the ears of the two girls.
"No jewelry is more beautiful than the sacred flowers of the crescent moon; congratulations on growing up." She gave the two a kiss on each cheek.