[V15C25] Nothing Ever Goes As Planned

Cyril awoke to sunlight pouring through the window and a sharp pain in his head.

This pain was not the bump from his fall or the throb of a hangover, but the sting of his scalp being pulled. His hair had probably gotten tangled in something.

(What time is it…?)

Monica and Isaac were departing a bit earlier than usual, and naturally, Cyril had intended to see them off.

However, the sun was already high in the sky.

He must have overslept because of the unfamiliar alcohol from last night.

Cyril knew he was bad with alcohol, but the ever-thoughtful Isaac had made him something easy to drink. As a result, Cyril got carried away and drank too much.

Once he sat up, he noticed a hand mirror placed next to his pillow. There was also a small scrap of paper beneath it. A note written in a familiar, neat handwriting.

——Did you dream of fluff, dear princess?

Was this some sort of metaphor? Puzzled, Cyril picked up the hand mirror—and promptly froze in horror.

His familiar face was covered in heavy makeup, and his hair had been transformed beyond recognition.

“W-W-Wha…!?”

His normally straight silver hair was arranged into an elegant web of braids woven into each other above his head. There was even a dazzling hairpin set at the base. A single lock of his bangs trailed down the side of his head, and its curled tip suggested the use of a curling iron.

His face was covered in powder, his cheeks were touched by pink blush, and his lips were painted with bright red lipstick.

Cyril had no way of knowing this, but all of the makeup was borrowed from Melissa’s personal stash, hence the bold colors.

“What in the world is this!?”

Just then, two weasels jumped in through the window.

Perhaps Thule and Pikeh would have an idea of what happened. But before Cyril had a chance to ask, the white and golden weasels spoke first.

“Wow, Cyril, you look cute.”

“Cute.”

“…”

As Cyril fell silent, Thule leapt into his lap, and Pikeh onto his shoulder.

The golden weasel pawed at the strand of hair hanging beside his face.

“Ike said this is his masterpiece.”

“He also said you’ll be happy if we call you cute.”

“…”

Had he done something to offend the Esteemed Noble?

Whatever the case, he couldn’t let anyone see him like this. First, he needed to fix his hair. The way it dug at his scalp was actually quite painful.

But Cyril quickly ran into a wall. He had no clue how to unravel this. His usual style was a simple tie at the back of his head, very different from the elaborate and complex styles used by high-class women.

Cyril applied his knowledge as the son of a weaver.

When the threads get tangled, you need to remain calm and work backwards from the ends. Perhaps the same rule could be applied to his hair.

“The ends… where are the ends…?”

Cyril reached around to the back of his head, groping blindly for the ends of his hair… but they were nowhere to be found.

After all, Isaac had tucked the ends into a bun held securely with pins.

Removing the hairpins first would’ve helped, but Cyril didn’t realize that. As a result, he just kept searching stubbornly for the ends.

Eventually, there was a knock on the door.

“Hey Cyril, are you up? Monica and Isaac have already left.”

Cyril turned pale at Raul’s voice and shouted through the door.

“Raul, wait, don’t come in!”

“Huh? But this is my room. I kinda need to get dressed.”

“Urgh, I’m sorry. But you can’t. You just can’t…!”

“Why? What happened?”

Cyril did not want Raul to see him with this hair and face, but he couldn’t think of a good excuse.

Now panicking, Cyril Ashley could only cry out in anguish…

“I… I can’t find the ends of my hair!”

“Eh!? You went bald!?”

“No!!”

“Hmm… Oh, I know just the thing! Ray has a curse for covering your entire body in hair! When he gets back, you can ask him to cast it on you!”

“I said that’s not it!!”

Throughout the exchange of shouts, Cyril continued the frantic search for the ends of his hair.

The two weasels climbed onto his shoulders in an attempt to help, but unfortunately, their tugging only made Cyril scream even harder.

＊　＊　＊

“Things were a bit hectic this morning,” Monica said.

“Uh-huh,” Isaac replied. “Too bad we didn’t get to see Cyril.”

“Yeah…”

The two chatted in a carriage bound for the city with the headquarters of the Mage Association.

At their feet was Nero in black cat form, poking curiously at the luggage by Monica’s feet.

“Hey, Monica. Why do you have so much stuff?”

“That’s because Melissa-oneesan gave me a lot… And besides, I already brought a lot of luggage.”

“Now that you mention it,” Isaac said, glancing down at Monica’s bag. “You are carrying quite a bit. Did you get souvenirs for someone?”

“No, these are cosmetics!”

Her words rendered both Isaac and Nero silent.

Isaac gestured to Nero as if to say “after you,” so Nero spoke for the both of them.

“But you’re not even wearing makeup.”

Nero was right. Monica had not applied any makeup during the sleepover trip. In fact, the only thing she used regularly was lip balm.

“It’s for the conference today… I, um, wanted to put on some makeup so I can look like a cool master…”

Isaac could not help but widen his eyes.

Meanwhile, the embarrassed Monica lowered her head and fidgeted with her fingers.

“Um, I-I know I’m not very good with makeup, but I didn’t want to look childish… That would embarrass my disciple… so, erm….”

“I would never be embarrassed to have you as my master.”

Isaac gently placed his hand over Monica’s.

She looked up to see his sparkling turquoise eyes.

Isaac had become much more expressive lately. He still seemed worried about his intimidating face, but Monica found his smile incredibly kind and gentle.

“Oh, I know,” Isaac said. “Would you let me do your makeup this time?”

“You, Ike?”

“Yeah. Your hair too, if you want. I think I could do a pretty good job.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, putting a hint of mischief into his gentle smile.

“I just had the perfect practice dummy, after all.”

＊　＊　＊

Truly, love never goes as planned.

Even so, the man named Isaac Walker had no intention of giving up. Handing someone else the win out of the pureness of his heart? Not a chance.

Isaac was fine with starting at a disadvantage. He had full confidence in his tenacity to claw his way up from the depths of misfortune.

(I show you, Master. I’m definitely cooler than that bumbling wreck.)

That hopeless princess was probably awake by now.

As he imagined the screams of his rival in love, Isaac let out a sinister chuckle.

“Get a load of this guy,” Nero said. “That’s his evil merchant face. He’s definitely plotting something.”

“That’s so rude, Nero-senpai.”

Isaac brushed off the black cat’s suspicious stare, and this time, a white lizard peeked out of his pocket.

“Master, by ‘practice dummy’ did you mean…?”

“Shh.”

He pressed down on his pocket to quiet Wildianu, then turned back to Monica with a smile. One that, despite his sharp eyes, put his affection on full display.

“I’ll make you the cutest you’ve ever been.”

The second half he only whispered internally.

——So please, fall in love with me.

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