~Chapter 40~
“If you scream like that, I might get hurt, you know. Don’t you think I look pretty?”
Caspar, as if puzzled by Floria’s horrified reaction, pulled a mirror from somewhere and gently combed the pink wig as he admired his reflection.
Well… fine. He didn’t look like a princess straight out of a fairy tale, but more like the type to recite, “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?”
A sharp-eyed, fox-like beauty.
Honestly, if someone claimed she was Caspar’s sister, Floria might have believed it on the spot.
And the most frustrating part?
If you stripped away all judgment and prejudice and only looked at the face… it was annoyingly beautiful.
That alone made Floria furious.
But what infuriated her the most was—
Why the heck is he looking at me so demurely?
The face was feminine, yes. But the voice was still deep, the shoulders broad as a fortress, and none of it matched.
“…Why are you cross-dressing, exactly?”
“Because we need to sneak in.”
Floria clutched at her chest in exasperation.
That didn’t explain why it had to be cross-dressing!
Bang!
Just as she was about to lose her mind, Caspar casually kicked the carriage door open with a loud thud, cleaning his ear like it was nothing.
“….”
Forget it. There had to be some reason behind his madness.
Floria shook her head violently. She reminded herself again: Do not try to understand this man’s thought process.
If someone cracked open his skull, his brain was probably a tangled mess beyond repair. She swallowed that thought before it slipped out loud.
Holding her forehead, she cautiously peered out the now-open door—
And instantly regretted it.
Caspar’s long leg was still propped against the kicked-open door.
Her gaze dropped instinctively—and froze.
He was wearing black high heels. With actual heels.
“….”
Could she just faint now and be done with it?
Floria’s stomach churned, her head spun, and she barely kept herself conscious. She forced her eyes away from his deliberately wiggling foot and finally looked outside.
Thankfully, no one was nearby. The street was lined with old buildings and narrow alleys, but eerily silent, as if no one lived there.
Caspar hopped out of the carriage and tossed his robe carelessly inside.
Underneath, he wore… a plain yellow dress, the kind ordinary women wore every day.
Floria nearly gouged her own eyes out.
He was over 180cm tall, his back broad and muscular. And he walked confidently in a dress. As if nothing about this was strange at all.
She sat frozen inside the carriage, still reeling from shock, until Caspar suddenly turned and grabbed her hand.
Her eyes flew wide as he pulled her gently down, steadying her with a sly grin. He leaned close, whispering in her ear:
“We’re going to the women’s slave market. If I wanted to get in, cross-dressing was the only option.”
“….”
Floria repeated the words in her head several times.
And then—
Fine. She slightly understood.
Correction: No, I still don’t understand at all.
She realized something clearly: Caspar was a man she could never hope to understand with her own brain.
He had no shame. None. And if it was for his goal, he would do absolutely anything without hesitation.
That, more than anything, was terrifying.
Dragged along by his hand, Floria trudged into the alleys.
But no matter how much she tried to avoid looking, Caspar’s overwhelming presence dominated everything. He was just too tall, too solid, too conspicuous.
There’s no way we won’t get caught…
At this point, maybe it would’ve been better if they’d just been kidnapped again like last time.
Sigh after sigh escaped her lips.
***
They twisted right, then left, then into another alley, over and over.
Floria eyed his free hand suspiciously.
He’s not even holding a map. How does he know where he’s going? Or is he just pretending he knows and wandering aimlessly?
“We’re here.”
Her doubts were cut short when Caspar murmured and stopped.
Floria halted too and looked up—her mouth falling open.
…What is this?
Just a moment ago, it was only a narrow alley. But in the blink of an eye, the view had transformed.
Beyond the turn stretched an empty plain.
It was night, so of course it was dark, but this wasn’t normal darkness. Something massive loomed overhead.
A colossal black tent, large enough to cover the entire field.
But that wasn’t what made her blood run cold.
Dozens of women stood in rows beneath the tent.
Their eyes were blank, lifeless, as if they had already given up on living.
What… what is this?
As Floria scanned the horrifying scene, Caspar tugged her forward, slipping naturally into the line as though he belonged there.
But—
How are we not going to get caught?!
Even the tall women standing nearby only reached Caspar’s chin. His shoulders alone looked wide enough to crush someone.
If his face weren’t so absurdly, suspiciously pretty, the contrast might’ve been less jarring. Instead, the mismatch made him stand out even more.
Clank.
The metallic sound made Floria stiffen.
She darted her eyes around until she spotted armored men up ahead, armed with brutal weapons. They were checking each woman’s face.
Clank.
Afterward, they locked a shackle around each wrist.
“Next.”
And now, it was their turn.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Floria’s heart hammered like it would burst.
We’re going to get caught. For sure. We’re doomed.
There were no knights or guards with them tonight. No escorts. Only her, Caspar, and the coachman.
And even at a glance, she could see the sheer number of slavers ahead was overwhelming.
There was no way Caspar could handle them all alone—
“Raise your head.”
The slaver barked at them.
Floria had been staring at the ground so hard her jaw ached. Reluctantly, she lifted her face.
The man was burly, with a thick beard covering his chin. Their eyes met, and Floria quickly shifted hers sideways, sneaking a glance at Caspar.
…And nearly fainted again.
Caspar was staring straight at the slaver with bold, unflinching eyes.
And then—he slowly lowered one eyelid.
A wink.
Oh no.
We’re really screwed now.
Floria wanted to smack her forehead, or better yet, smack Caspar himself.
But either way, it would draw attention, so she squeezed her eyes shut instead.
“Hrm, hrm.”
A sudden cough came from the slaver, who wasn’t moving on.
Floria cracked one eye open.
…Unbelievable. The slaver had turned his head aside, lips pressed tight, his cheeks burning red.
Why are you blushing?!
Caspar was bigger than him, broader than him, clearly a man in a dress.
And yet—
Clank.
The slaver snapped a shackle onto Floria’s wrist without hesitation.
Then, with a strange softness in his gaze, he brushed Caspar’s wrist gently before fastening the shackle on him too.
What the hell is happening…?
Even as they walked forward, the other slavers they passed also let them through. No suspicion, no problem.
Every single one of them stole glances at Caspar. Not with suspicion—but with smiles.
Am I dreaming?
Floria’s mind reeled in disbelief.
