Sad performance (3)

Raphael Earhart

Fifteen minutes later, I had changed into tattered clothes stained with dirt, let my hair down, and dyed it yellow with temporary color. To further blend in and conceal my masculine features, I smeared soil on my face and hands, carefully spreading it over my cheeks and chin.

In the reflection of the blade leaning against the wall, I looked like an ordinary street girl who had spent her whole life in the slums. The clothes hung loosely, torn in places, and my hair was matted with grime. Everything was ready.

«It suits you, heh-heh,» — Harumi teased.

«Shut up.»

As if I enjoyed dressing like this.