Chapter-46 Presentation Is Everything

The scent of Lysandro's lavender oils still clung to Frederique's damp skin as she sat, hair wrapped in a towel, sinking into the plush chair of the salon. Candlelight flickered along the gilded mirrors, casting her reflection in strange, distorted fragments.

She felt raw.

Clean, but not cleansed.

The taste of last night still lingered. The iron tang of flesh. The scent of blood. The way her stomach had twisted, not from disgust but from hunger finally, completely sated.

Redcaps don't waste.

They clean.

She exhaled.

The door chimed, its bell a soft, delicate sound... far too gentle for the figure who entered.

' Selora.'

The fox-like Pooka glided inside, as if she owned the space. Her long, auburn hair was pinned high, a few loose curls spilling artfully down her bare shoulder. A dress of clinging, russet silk draped around her curves, slit high along her thigh, baring pale skin dusted with faint runes shimmering like old ink. Gold hoops dangled from her ears, and a single black envelope was pinched elegantly between her fingers.

Frederique's breath hitched.

Selora was a presence, all confidence and allure, every motion slow and deliberate. But her emerald eyes, sharp as a predator's, held no trace of softness. Only purpose.

The Pooka said nothing at first, only offering the black envelope with a tilt of her head.

Frederique took it hesitantly.

Another mission.

"...Already?" Her voice was hoarse, quieter than intended.

Selora's smile was a blade. "No rest for the wicked, darling. Or have you forgotten what you are?"

Frederique's fingers curled around the wax seal, cold and smooth against her palm.

"I just finished the last one. I haven't even... "

"You ate well, didn't you?"

Frederique's breath caught.

Selora stepped closer, leaning over the chair. Close enough that Frederique caught the scent of orange blossoms and something musky beneath it. Her voice was softer now, but no less dangerous.

"You were magnificent last night. I heard every detail."

A sharp smile.

"But the Night Court doesn't need you for one moment of savagery. They need consistency. Strength. Tonight, you prove that again."

Frederique forced herself to break eye contact and cracked open the envelope.

Bodyguard assignment. Three days. No violence anticipated. Represent the Night Court. Dress appropriately.

A silver rune marked the bottom.

The King's personal seal.

Frederique blinked, shoulders tense.

"No violence?"

Selora's smile sharpened.

"Not every mission requires teeth. But you'll still need to look dangerous. Impressions matter."

Frederique lowered the paper.

"...What am I guarding?"

Selora waved a hand.

"Details will come later. For now, your priority is preparation."

Her violet gaze flicked over Frederique's damp towel and the oversized shirt she wore.

"You can't show up like that. Come... it's time for some proper attire."

Lysandro, who had been lurking silently in the corner, finally smirked.

"Oh, do take her somewhere scandalous, Selora. I'm dying to see our little Redcap properly dressed for once."

Frederique groaned.

Selora just offered a sly smile and extended her hand.

"Trust me. This will be fun."

The market was not a place for the faint-hearted.

Frederique had expected a standard shopping trip. Maybe velvet gowns and corsets.

What she found instead was a maze of living fashion.

Gowns spun from liquid shadow rippled on invisible mannequins. Dresses stitched with silver thread seemed to hum faintly with power. Fabrics shifted and warped as customers passed, reacting to the energy of those who looked at them.

Selora led her like a predator on the hunt, her hips swaying as she wove through the stalls. Fey merchants with hollow eyes and twisted horns whispered in unfamiliar tongues, offering gloves spun from spider silk, veils that shimmered with illusions.

Frederique felt out of place.

These clothes weren't just fashion. They were statements. Weapons, in their own way.

Selora finally stopped before a shop with a full wall of mirrors displaying gowns in unnatural hues... white like bone, silver like frost, crimson so dark it looked like drying blood.

"You need something unforgettable," Selora murmured, tracing a finger along a pale fabric.

"Your first real bodyguard assignment, after all."

Frederique hesitated.

"This feels... ridiculous. I'm not... "

Selora stepped behind her, leaning close, her breath warm against Frederique's ear.

"You are dangerous. And the world needs to see that. Clothing is power, Frederique. Confidence. When you walk into a room, you need people to fear what you're capable of."

Frederique swallowed hard.

Then, without warning, Selora snapped her fingers.

The fabric shimmered. The mirrors shifted. And a dress wrapped itself around Frederique's body.

Snow-white silk.

The gown was stunning... fitted to her waist, flaring into long, split skirts that revealed her pale legs. Delicate silver chains crisscrossed her torso, framing her curves without being vulgar. The fabric caught the dim light like frost, soft yet commanding.

Frederique blinked at her own reflection.

It wasn't just beautiful.

She looked... powerful.

Selora tilted her head, violet eyes narrowing. Then, with a smirk, she flicked her fingers again... silver earrings appeared in Frederique's lobes, delicate hoops that matched the dress's accents.

"Perfect."

Frederique exhaled.

"...I feel ridiculous."

"You feel dangerous," Selora corrected.

"And expensive. That dress? Seven coins."

Frederique choked.

"Seven... ?!"

Selora only smiled, arms folding across her chest.

"The more you look the part, the higher the pay. Consider this an investment. Presentation is everything."

Frederique glanced back at her reflection.

The pale silk clung like frost.

Cold.

Beautiful.

Unnatural.

She understood, now.

They weren't just clothes.

They were armor.

"...Fine. I'll take it."

Selora's smile widened. "Good girl. Now... let's go back to your house."