𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭 | ✓

TWENTY TWO.

There was a great fuss about his appearance before Y/n went out; throwing the manor into a fit of chaos. It's too much, Y/n thought to himself, slowly becoming weary and exhausted, for god's sake, it's just a date!

Y/n has found himself getting unceremoniously getting woken up at the crack of dawn to have a long bath (scented with lavender, a small detail he really didn't need to know) and then found his hair being pulled in different directions. It didn't help that Livio had long hair.

Though I suppose I'm rather fortunate to have such a face like his, Y/n thought absentmindedly, I guess that's why the maids are going crazy.

Maybe it was also a matter of who he was going with. The person in question was the Crown Prince, so it made sense for the maids to want him to look his absolute best.

"We want casual, since it's a festival, but not too casual," Agatha, the head maid, frowned, "Young Master, which color does the prince like?" She lifted up a blue dress shirt, followed by a black one, "wearing a black one on such a hot day might not be too wise."

"The sun hasn't even risen up yet," Y/n grouched, yawning, "I don't know. Just pick one."

You'll look good in any color, Livio.

"The white one, then," Agatha decided, "something plain. Your features are good enough, and we don't want to make it seem like you are trying too hard. If you get what I mean—I have loads of dating experience. But to think you are dating the crown prince, does His Highness treat you well?"

"Huh? Right. He does," Y/n replied, still disoriented and confused by the flurry of motion around him—"wait, are you tying my hair up?"

"Don't you always put it up?"

"Well, yes, but just a messy hairstyle—"

"Trust me." Y/n listened to those words in disbelief, staring at the mirror. His hair was being twisted into some version of a glorified ponytail—was that a braid peeking out from a small corner? Other maids fussed around him, smoothing out his clothes to make sure they weren't wrinkled, before standing back to admire their handiwork.

"You look wonderful," Agatha said admiringly, "how lucky your father is to have such a handsome son. I myself don't have any children, but how proud I would be!" She gushed.

Before the incident, no one would have dared to speak to him in such a way. Yet after the incident had spread over to other's ears—what do you suppose the crown prince said? Ah, how exciting! I never expected the young master to be so—the servants working in the manor warmed up considerably to Y/n. A blessing disguise, if you will—who knew if Y/n would ever need that loyalty one day?

Come to think of it, Iris hadn't appeared for quite some time..

"Brother!"

Y/n turned around, eyes widening in awe—"Angelina," He smiled, "you look wonderful today. May I ask who your date is?"

Angelina did look lovely. Her honey-blonde hair was swept up into an updo, yet it wasn't too prim and proper—there were loose, golden strands of hair falling down her face, softening her features. Her dress was modest, yet the fine material suggested she came from a wealthy household. Her makeup was also immaculately done, and looked more natural than anything.

"It's Claude," She giggled, "he was so insistent, I simply couldn't say no! Elliot asked to—but I had to decline. I'll be going with him to the ball after the festivities are over."

Not Elliot! That useless idiot.

"You'll be shopping for clothes too, I presume," Y/n tilted his head, "His Highness and I are going to be finding matching ones. His suggestion," He shrugged, "I didn't even know tailors made matching ones."