Task complete! The straps were severed, and the entire dress was thoroughly soaked in ink—not even the gods could save it now!
That wicked woman from the Rose family who dared plot against Lady Loris would definitely face social ruin in the second half of the ball!
Klaus Heller wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, a lofty sense of pride belonging to an “unsung hero” welling up in his heart.
He even felt that the tight, high-waisted dress he was wearing looked a lot more pleasing to the eye now.
However, just as he screwed the cap back on and prepared to make a clean getaway, hiding his name and contributions—
Click.
Without any warning, the heavy oak door of the changing room was pushed open from the outside.
In that instant, Klaus's breathing completely stopped, and he froze in front of the wardrobe as if struck by lightning.
“Oh, Miss Horn, like I said, it's always more reassuring to bring the jewelry for the second half over and put it in the wardrobe in advance... Once the second half starts and that arrogant Loris sees her wardrobe...”
A sharp, mocking, and intensely fake-innocent familiar female voice traveled closer and closer, accompanied by the crisp clicking of boots against the floor.
It was Vera Klein.
And beside her was Margaret Horn, who sported deep brown, voluminous waves.
These two wicked women, who were supposed to be out on the dance floor, had actually returned to the preparation room together at this most critical juncture.
In truth—they were here to sell Klaus out.
Klaus had no idea these two malicious women were involved, but they knew of his presence. If Loris's dress was ruined, a culprit would definitely have to be found. Having clashed with her in the past, they would naturally be the prime suspects.
Therefore, these two villains were now going to play a game of “thief crying thief.”
By turning Klaus in beforehand, they could keep suspicion away from themselves. After all, the culprit would have already been caught.
And since Klaus valued loyalty and friendship above all, he presumably wouldn't betray Alden.
Back to Klaus.
Countless thunderclaps exploded in Klaus's mind in an instant.
The dread of social suicide washed over him like a tidal wave. He could easily imagine what would happen if his drag persona—a broad-shouldered, wide-backed five-foot-three frame wearing a platinum-blonde wig and holding a bottle of black ink—was exposed before these two notorious gossips!
Tomorrow, the entire noble circle of the royal capital would be flooded with the scandalous headline: “The Upstart Young Master Klaus Heller Has a Crossdressing Fetish, Creeps into Ladies' Changing Room!”
When that time came, regardless of whether Lady Loris would detest him, his old man would probably charge over from their domain carrying a full suit of chainmail and a broadsword to purge him from this world.
Hide! I must hide!!
His survival instinct drove Klaus to unleash a level of agility that far surpassed that of an ordinary mage.
He didn't even have time to close the defiled rose wardrobe. Performing a ridiculously comical face-plant, he dove straight under the lounge benches in the adjacent resting area, which were draped with heavy velvet curtains and used to store miscellaneous items.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of heels clicking against the marble stopped in the center of the changing room.
“Wait, Miss Horn, do you smell... something strange?” Vera sniffed on purpose, her brow furrowed tightly. “It feels like... cheap ink and sweat?”
Klaus lay flat in the dust beneath the bench, clamping his hand over his mouth as hard as he could. Hearing the word “sweat,” he was so infuriated that he almost lost his composure right then and there—that was the fucking sweat he had broke out in from squeezing into this tight dress!
“Who cares what it smells like? Just put the things down quickly. If the student council patrol catches us...”
Margaret waved her hand in feigned impatience and walked toward her designated spot, guided by her intuition.
However, when her gaze fell upon the open wardrobe in the furthest corner bearing the rose crest, her voice stopped abruptly.
One second.
Two seconds.
“...Ahhhhh!!! A pervert!!”
He had been found.
In reality, it was all an act.
The two of them had noticed Klaus long ago, and they had even feigned fear just to clear a path.
In short, a shriek so shrill it could practically pierce eardrums instantly shattered the peace of the preparation room.
Klaus cursed under his breath. That wig from the Drama Club was simply too long.
Seeing that he was completely exposed, Klaus decided to go all out. He knew he absolutely could not be caught red-handed on the spot, or he wouldn't even have a chance to explain himself.
He bounced out from under the bench like a startled chimpanzee. Due to his overly large movements, his high-waisted dress split at the armpits with a cringeworthy rip.
“Eeeek!! There really is a pervert!! A platinum-blonde creep with chest hair!!”
Margaret retreated in rapid succession as she got a clear look at Klaus crawling out from under the bench.
“Get out of my way! Move!! I just walked into the wrong changing area!”
Klaus didn't forget his professional integrity. Squeezing his throat to pitch his voice into a high-pitched feminine tone, his face flushed red with absolute humiliation and fury.
Throwing gentlemanly manners to the wind, he shoved Vera out of the way of the door. Hoisting up his now-tattered skirt and stumbling in those accursed low heels, he dashed out of the preparation room like a madman in an incredibly awkward yet lightning-fast sprint.
Tragically, Vera's high-pitched shrieks had already created a terrifying echo in the silent corridor.
“Catch the pervert!! Seniors from the Swordsmanship Department! The sick creep is right here! Quick, catch him!!”
From around the corner ahead, the heavy thuds of leather boots could already be faintly heard.
Those were the Swordsmanship Department students responsible for tonight's security, and he could even vaguely hear the sound of some upperclassmen drawing their swords.
Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Alden, you absolute, cursed bastard!!
Klaus cursed hysterically in his mind.
In his wild dash, his platinum-blonde wig had completely slipped over to his left cheek, blocking half of his vision.
He was like a wild beast fleeing frantically through an aristocratic labyrinth, darting left and right down pale corridors without looking where he was going. The hem of his skirt was his greatest obstacle; with every step he took, he felt like he would trip on it and face-plant onto the floor.
A dead end lay ahead, and pursuers pressed from behind.
Sweat poured from his forehead and into his eyes, burning hot and stinging.
Clinging desperately to his skirt, Klaus sprinted down the corridor in utter dishevelment. Just as he was about to turn into the last intersection leading to the private preparation rooms, hoping to escape out the back door onto the lawn—
He slammed headfirst into a dark blue figure that was slowly walking toward him, radiating a strong aroma of red wine.
In that split second, beneath the crooked strands of his platinum-blonde wig, Klaus's despairing eyes collided head-on with a pair of emerald-green eyes that were filled with pure embarrassment and shock.
That was...
Lady Loris.
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