Chapter 102: The Weight of a New Robe

The reflection in the mirror merged with the shopfront at the alley’s entrance, and Lia’s careful appraisal was abruptly interrupted by a curious gaze.

Behind the gleaming display window, a young shop assistant tilted her head, observing with keen interest the peculiar customer who clutched an ornate box yet wore a remarkably plain robe.

Though the gaze held no malice, being born purely of curiosity, it nonetheless sent a flush of warmth instantly spreading across Lia’s cheeks.

She whirled around abruptly, as if scorched by an invisible flame, swiftly averting her eyes from the stare. Her hand shot out, seizing Adèle’s wrist, who had been idly observing the scene beside her.

“Let’s go!”

Her voice was taut, laced with a trace of panic that even she hadn’t yet registered. She practically dragged Adèle, plunging headlong into the other end of the alley without a backward glance, her footsteps a frantic, uneven rhythm.

“Hey? Lia, why are you running?” Adèle stumbled, nearly losing her footing, utterly bewildered by the sudden flight.

Lia’s only response was a more forceful tug and the increasingly frantic patter of her own footsteps.

It wasn’t until they had completely left the artisan district behind, darting into a deserted street, that Lia finally released Adèle’s hand. She bent over, bracing herself with hands on her knees, gulping down air in ragged breaths.

“Hahahahaha!”

From behind her, a torrent of laughter, no longer suppressible, erupted.

“Pff… hahahaha!” Adèle doubled over with laughter, clutching the nearby wall to keep herself upright.

“Lia, you… the way you looked just now… haha! You actually blushed and fled in embarrassment!”

Lia straightened slowly, her cheeks flushed crimson from both exertion and mortified indignation. She glared, puffing out her cheeks, at Adèle, who was now laughing so hard she was nearly convulsing.

This unfamiliar emotion left her utterly at a loss, and she could only attempt to mask it with a veneer of anger. Yet, her furious glare held no menace for Adèle; instead, it only spurred her to laugh even harder.

Eventually, Adèle simply squatted on the ground, tears streaming from her eyes as she succumbed to mirth.

After a considerable time, Adèle finally managed to rein in her laughter. She dabbed at the tears welling in the corners of her eyes, then rose and approached Lia, extending a hand as if to playfully pinch her cheek.

“Alright, alright, don’t be cross. It’s simply the first time I’ve ever seen you like this, and it’s truly delightful.”

Lia merely turned her head, evading the playful touch, and remained stubbornly silent, a faint pout on her lips.

“My apologies, I was wrong.”

Adèle immediately raised both hands in a theatrical gesture of surrender, though the irrepressible mirth on her face betrayed her feigned contrition.

“To make amends, I’ll treat you to the finest dessert in the entire kingdom. How does that sound? The soufflé from White Bird’s Feather melts on the tongue, capable of making one forget all their worries.”

Lia’s stomach, with ill-timed audacity, let out a distinct rumble. She was, undeniably, rather hungry.

Observing her reaction, Adèle’s smile deepened, a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Come on, let’s consider this a celebration of our Lia finally awakening to her maidenly sensibilities.”

“I did not!”

Lia immediately retorted, though her voice lacked any real conviction.

***

The White Bird’s Feather patisserie nestled on a tranquil street in the heart of the capital.

Its interior, adorned in warm, creamy hues, exuded a comforting ambiance, while the air, perfumed with the sweet aroma of cream and freshly baked delights, invited an unconscious relaxation.

Adèle, with the ease of a frequent patron, secured a table by the window and ordered their signature soufflé along with a fragrant floral tea for them both.

Soon, the steaming soufflé arrived, exquisitely puffed and delicately dusted with a fine layer of powdered sugar, a sight that instantly whetted the appetite.

Lia carefully scooped a morsel with her small spoon and brought it to her lips. The warm, sweet flavor melted on her tongue, and with each delicate bite, that inexplicable sense of vexation indeed began to dissipate considerably.

“Well? Isn’t it delicious?”

Adèle winked, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

Lia merely nodded, her full attention now devoted to the delectable treat on her plate.

It was then that a gentle, refined female voice drifted over from a neighboring table.

“What a delightful coincidence. I hadn’t expected to encounter you both here, Miss Farrien and Miss Adèle.”

Both turned at the sound, their gazes falling upon Master Eleonora, who was seated at a nearby table. A cup of crimson tea rested before her, and a soft, benevolent smile graced her features.

“Master Eleonora!”

Adèle rose in surprised delight, offering a respectful curtsy.

Lia, too, quickly set her spoon aside and rose to her feet. Eleonora, however, merely waved a dismissive hand, gesturing for them to remain seated.

“I merely happened to be passing by,” she explained, “and wished to find a quiet spot to rest for a moment.”

Her gaze then settled on the exquisite box Lia had carefully placed beside her.

“A Laurel Branch box,” Eleonora observed, her eyes glinting. “It appears Miss Farrien has had quite a fruitful day.”

“It’s what the Master bought for Lia!” Adèle chimed in without a moment’s hesitation.

“Lia’s existing clothes were growing a little snug, so the Master took her to purchase some new ones.”

Upon hearing the word ‘Master,’ Eleonora’s movements paused, almost imperceptibly. She turned her gaze to Lia, her luminous eyes holding a hint of thoughtful inquiry.

“Lord Klein personally selected it for you, then? That is truly a rare occurrence. His discerning taste has always been impeccable.”

Lia felt her cheeks flush once more. She lowered her head, murmuring a soft reply.

“It’s merely a rather plain dress.”

“The simpler the garment, the more profoundly it tests the wearer’s inherent demeanor.”

Eleonora gracefully lifted her teacup, gently blowing across the wisps of steam curling from its surface. “I have faith in Lord Klein’s discerning eye, and I equally believe that Miss Farrien will be able to manifest its perfect essence.”

Adèle chimed in from the side, “The dress is called ‘Serene Starlight.’ It’s a deep blue, and it truly suits Lia.”

“Serene Starlight,” Eleonora murmured, repeating the name softly.

Her gaze drifted, thoughtful, over Lia’s tightly clenched knuckles around the spoon and her somewhat rigid posture. “A beautiful name indeed.

Yet, it seems to be at odds with your current demeanor. Your inner world, I sense, is far from serene.”

Lia lifted her head, a flicker of incomprehension in her eyes.

Eleonora set down her teacup, leaning slightly forward as she regarded Lia with earnest intent.

“Miss Farrien, you may not have fully grasped the profound transformation you’ve initiated in this world.

Your name has now become an undeniable emblem, one that no mage across the entire kingdom, indeed, the entire continent, can possibly circumvent.”

Eleonora’s gaze swept discerningly over Lia’s somewhat threadbare and slightly ill-fitting old robe, then returned to her face.

“With the verification of your theories, you transcend being merely a genius; you are a symbol, an embodiment of a miracle.

People will be curious about every facet of your being: your past, your preferences, and, naturally, your countenance. In the eyes of many, you have already become…”

Eleonora’s words were starkly direct. “This is not an offense, but rather an inevitability. When the radiance of wisdom shines too brightly, the very vessel that contains it becomes a spectacle in itself.”

Lia’s grip on her spoon tightened imperceptibly.

“I… I don’t like this,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“I know,” Eleonora responded, her words surprising Lia with their unexpected understanding.

“Few individuals truly relish being scrutinized as if they were mere exhibits. Fame is but an outer garment, Miss Farrien.”

Eleonora’s tone held the profound clarity of one who had walked this path before.

“Others have already draped it upon your shoulders. Whether you desire it or not, you cannot refuse it. The only choice left to you is how you will carry it, what posture you will assume in wearing it.”

She paused, then reached for the sugar tongs on the table, delicately placing a single sugar cube into Lia’s teacup.

“You may choose to be passively bound by its constraints, or you may actively master it, allowing it to become an integral part of who you are.”

Eleonora watched as the sugar cube slowly dissolved into the crimson tea, sending gentle ripples across its surface.

“Perhaps a new garment, one that fits you perfectly and makes you feel comfortable and at ease, would be an excellent beginning.”

She lifted her gaze, offering Lia a warm, encouraging smile.

“Do try it on. Don’t let Lord Klein’s thoughtful gesture remain perpetually sealed within its box.”

Lia’s thoughts were in utter disarray. She gazed at the beautiful box resting on the table, then back at the elegant, perceptive lady before her, finding herself utterly speechless for a long moment.

She was merely a transmigrator who wished to pursue her research in peace, perhaps reclaiming her family inheritance along the way.

When had something as simple as choosing what to wear become such a vexing matter?