What’s the worst that could happen? You think to yourself hours prior to your capture.

A little chit chat with Epel. You always found him the easiest to talk to about your dilemmas, as he’d be facing them as well. Numerous, enjoyable topics such as your skin, your fear of your housewarden—Vil’s—strictness and overall just… him as a being, as well as dabbling in some unique…activities involving everything but elegance; consider Rook sticking a recorder in your ass and presenting your conversation to said well-feared warden.

Kidding! No recorder in your ass, but definitely a conversation that got brought up to Vil.

Now, you were in his room, apparently given a lecture on skincare and also getting your makeup done. The close proximity only increased the heat from the uniforms and the expensive things in his dorm room.

"Stay still, mein täubchen." Vil hissed, keeping a firm hand on your face while doing your skincare for you.

There was always an underlying sense of admiration you held for him, yet it was powered over by a constant reminder that he was like a clone of your mother. Strict. Precise. Elegant.

Everything you were not.

But could you see he held interest in you for your ability to remain yourself in this house full of men with their noses kept high and a constant humming in the background from brewing potions? There was beauty in you.