'...'
'This is adorable,' she thought.
Giselle's eyes sparkled with a mix of worry and anticipation, silently pleading for an answer.
After a chaotic day with no time to rest, this small gesture had an oddly comforting effect on her frazzled nerves. But how was she supposed to respond? The situation felt too awkward.
'What should I do? What should I say?' A flush of panic rose within her, and her thoughts raced. 'And with so many eyes on us right now, what if I say the wrong thing? I have no idea what to do…'
Struggling to find the right words, Lyra decided to shift the conversation. She gently patted Giselle's hand, her voice light and admiring. "Oh wow, you look absolutely stunning in that dress. I'm starting to believe there's no outfit in the world that doesn't suit you," she said, feigning deeper interest to ease the tension.
Giselle, perhaps sensing the discomfort in the air, withdrew her hand from Lyra's cheek, though her cheeks remained slightly puffed out.
"Yes, I know I'm beautiful," she replied, a playful confidence lacing her words as she turned back to her chair.
The two attendants who had paused their work earlier resumed, carefully adjusting Giselle's makeup and fixing the intricate accessories woven into her hair.
Lyra followed her lead, taking a seat nearby and watching the preparations in silence. On the dressing table in front of Giselle lay a masquerade mask, perfectly matching the elegant dress she wore.
'Hmm, so she'll be performing with a mask. Is she the only one wearing it, or are the others too?'
Lyra glanced around, noticing several other actors also donning masks. 'Ah, I guess this mask idea isn't uncommon here.'
As she surveyed the room, Lyra could still feel the sharp, suspicious gaze of the servant who had accompanied her earlier. She chose to ignore it, leaning back slightly in the chair, attempting to relax.
Giselle broke the silence with a whisper, "So, what have you been up to today?"
Feeling the weight of exhaustion from the day's events, Lyra kept her response brief. "Just some shopping, nothing much," she replied, her voice calm but tired.
Giselle leaned closer, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ah, because of what happened this afternoon, the town was in quite a frenzy. You know what I'm talking about, right?"
Lyra nodded slowly, allowing Giselle to continue. She listened as Giselle recounted how the city had almost been thrown into chaos and how her show had nearly been canceled because of it. Fortunately, the fugitive had fled the town, allowing things to calm down.
As Giselle spoke, Lyra's head began to throb, a dull pain building behind her chest, but she continued to listen, responding with short, simple answers.
"But… are you sure you're okay? You look a bit pale," Giselle asked, her voice laced with concern.
Lyra forced a small laugh, trying to brush off the worry. "I'm fine, just a little worn out from wandering around the city all day."
She hesitated before finally asking, "Um, Giselle, could I borrow a room to rest for a while?"
Giselle clapped her hands lightly, as if realizing something. "Oh, of course! It's almost time for my performance anyway. Just follow Mr. Rowan," she said kindly before turning to speak to the middle-aged man.
* * *
Lyra trailed behind the servant, following him through the maze of corridors that led from the dressing room to the audience area. The soft murmur of voices and the distant rustle of movement filled the air as they moved closer to the heart of the theater. They veered off at a staircase, climbing towards a secluded area reserved for VIPs.
The walk was silent, but Lyra could sense the cold, unfriendly aura radiating from the middle-aged man guiding her. His steps were deliberate, his posture stiff, as if each movement was calculated to keep her at a distance.
'I expected something like this to happen because he's still suspicious of me, but this situation also works in my favor. I just want to lie down right now and not talk to anyone.'
When they reached the door, he opened it without a word, motioning for her to step inside.
The room was spacious, with an open balcony overlooking the stage below. It was designed for comfort, with plush chairs and rich drapes that framed the view.
But as soon as Lyra stepped in, her instincts screamed at her, and she quickly leaped back, narrowly avoiding a knife that sliced through the air where she had just been standing.
It was Mr. Rowan.
He attacked again, his movements precise, but Lyra dodged once more.
"What's the meaning of this?" she demanded, her hand instinctively reaching for her dagger.
The servant's face remained impassive. "Apologies, miss, but I needed to confirm something."
Lyra understood immediately—there were only two things he could be checking for: whether she was the fugitive causing chaos in the town or if she had any ill intentions towards Lady Giselle. Those were the most plausible reasons she could conclude.
Taking a deep breath, she reluctantly let go of her dagger, slowly removing the cape that concealed her face, revealing her short, dark indigo hair.
She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. Despite her composed exterior, Lyra's body was in a terrible state. Every muscle ached with fatigue, and she could feel her strength waning, the edges of her vision blurring slightly. But she pushed the pain aside, as she always did, determined to stay composed and in control.
"What exactly do you need to confirm?" she asked, her voice steady but low.
Mr. Rowan scrutinized her for a long moment before finally lowering the knife, though his grip on the handle remained tight. "What is your purpose in approaching Lady Giselle?"
"Nothing. If you're worried I might harm her, I can assure you that will never happen," Lyra replied calmly.
He still looked unconvinced, but his tone softened slightly as he said, "Alright, I'll be watching you. You can rest here," he added, turning to leave. But before exiting, he tossed a small leather pouch towards her, which she caught instinctively. "Make sure Lady Giselle doesn't notice your wound."
Seeing the confusion on her face, he added, "I can smell blood," before closing the door behind him, leaving Lyra alone.
'Huh? His sense of smell is sharp,' Lyra thought, surprised. Before entering the town, she had done her best to mask the scent of blood from her wound using herbs, but it was the one person she hadn't expected who noticed.
Opening the pouch, she found a bottle of potion, similar to what she had seen in the alchemy shop earlier, along with some bandages. A small smile tugged at her lips as she looked at the potion. 'He's actually kind of helpful.'