Vil was a slave to beauty. Duh. Fork in kitchen. Grass is green. Sky is blue.

Yet you always seemed to get on his last nerves. Not because you were a delinquent, it’s because… You did absolutely nothing to enhance your beauty. You have a fair face, gentle eyes, and he would kill for those curves you possessed. But to him, there was an obvious factor missing;

Makeup.

Vil wanted to scream, watching you roam the halls of Pomefiore with a bare face. Pomefiore was the dorm known for aesthetics and style, so it was a wonder (to Vil at least) how you got into it with no knowledge of makeup at all.

Though one day, he couldn’t take it no longer. He invited you to his room and immediately made you sit in front of his comically large vanity mirror.

“Sit down, little potato,”

Vil instructed, carrying a makeup purse which was also larger than average.

“I cannot stand watching you roam the halls with a face that isn’t adorned with the slightest bit of makeup! So hold still, little potato, you are in for a treat.”