Margaret's eyes widened ever so slightly at Lucius' demand, then softened into a nod of agreement.
"Gladly," she replied, her voice calm and assured. "Come to think of it, Lucius... are you truly aware of what you are now?"
Lucius averted his gaze, a flicker of resistance in his eyes. "Whatever tale you spin, I will not accept it. I am alive. A human being—not some absurd walking corpse."
Margaret exhaled, not with impatience, but weary understanding. Her gaze drifted to Nai. "And you must be his companion."
Nai sat up a little straighter, brushing a few crumbs from his lap. "Not technically. We just... happened to survive together."
A faint, amused chuckle escaped Margaret's lips. She turned her attention to the eclipsed sky through the window, where the sun and moon danced behind gossamer clouds.
"…So what now?" Lucius asked, his tone cautious.
Margaret rose from her seat with grace. "Now, we wait. But in the meantime, let us prepare you—both of you—for what lies ahead. Disguises will be necessary."
Lucius and Nai exchanged confused looks.
Before they could protest, Margaret gently but firmly took Lucius by the arm and urged him to his feet. "Nai, would you be so kind as to wait here a moment?"
Nai nodded, curiosity flickering in his eyes as Margaret guided Lucius through a doorway to an adjoining chamber.
"Hey! You can't just drag me around like this!" Lucius hissed, though his resistance was half-hearted.
In the next room, Margaret ushered him into a high-backed chair in front of a vintage vanity adorned with jars, brushes, and polished silver tools. Without hesitation, she began her work—dabbing a fine concealer across the pale grey tones of his undead complexion.
Lucius recoiled slightly. "What are you painting me with?!"
"You'll thank me later," she said coolly, tying back his hair with deft hands before gently washing and trimming it. She cleaned his skin with careful precision, applying powders and toners to mask his unnatural hue. A touch of blush returned life to his cheeks, and she pressed a set of contact lenses into his palms. "These will mask your eyes. They are of high quality—you'll still be able to see."
Margaret then presented him with a finely tailored outfit: a crisp white dress shirt tucked neatly into high-waisted ebony trousers secured by silver suspenders. Over it, she draped a muted brown overcoat with elegantly structured shoulders. A silken ribbon-tie, knotted just below the collar, completed the look with aristocratic flair. At his feet, polished black dress shoes shone faintly under the light.
"There," she said, stepping back with quiet pride. "A gentleman of the city. No one would ever know the truth."
Lucius's eyes widened as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He leaned in slightly, tilting his head with a faint sound of surprise.
"Huh…" he murmured, a touch of amusement in his voice. "So this is what a normal, living man is supposed to look like."
Margaret chuckled softly behind him, her expression warm.
Just then, Nai stepped into the room. Her eyes widened the moment she laid eyes on Lucius. "Woah—Luci? You look... different!" she said with a lighthearted laugh, circling around him with an exaggerated squint as though to inspect him more thoroughly.
Lucius glanced toward Margaret, the corners of his mouth lifting faintly. "Thanks. Though I… I actually feel a little more alive."
Margaret offered only a gentle smile in return before playfully placing her hands on his shoulders and giving him a firm nudge. "Out you go now. Wait outside. It's time for ladies only," she teased with a lilting chuckle.
"Wait—hey!" Lucius protested, stumbling slightly as he was ushered through the doorway.
Once the door closed behind him, Margaret turned her attention to Nai. She stepped forward with quiet elegance, gently reaching for the younger girl's hair, her fingers brushing against the soft strands of pink.
"You dyed your hair?" she asked with mild curiosity.
Nai flinched at the touch, then gave a slow nod. "Yeah… My sister always dreamed of being a hairstylist. Said she'd do it properly when we saved enough coin…" Her voice trailed off, eyes drifting toward the floor, sorrow softening her tone.
Margaret did not press. She understood the silence between the words and offered no intrusion. Instead, she simply continued—brushing through Nai's hair with care, preserving the delicate pink while smoothing its texture, calming each strand like soothing a restless thought.
And then, just as before, her hands moved with quiet mastery—combing, trimming, applying subtle touches of refinement. The same gentle magic she had woven upon Lucius now began to shape Nai as well.
To be continued.