Leila spent her time attending classes, devoting her free time to training. This helped her master sashaying, turning it into a subconscious, graceful movement and giving her normal stride a permanent, slight figure-eight. While she trained, her aversion to sashaying faded, and she enjoyed it.

Since mastering sashaying, she's trained her speech, softening it to a slow and sultry tone, which became easier with her melodious voice. In addition to her voice, she focused on her posture and smile.

Leila leaned over, arms folded beneath her chest, flaunting her cleavage. Her posture was off; it was too stiff. It lacked smoothness and flow, which would improve over time. That was what she found right away; however, there was one component above all that she couldn't figure out, no matter how much she trained.

Reluctantly, she left it for another day and glanced up—a moonless night. Several lamps lit up the training ground, leaving the sky void of stars.

Leila buttoned her shirt, adjusted her uniform, and slid on her overcoat, which she had taken from Zain's dorm while he slept, along with an extra set of clothes. Straightening her back, she retrieved a note from her coat pocket—one left after she collapsed on the training grounds.

Mana printed the words.

[I convinced the hall monitor to let you off the hook for falling asleep on the training grounds, and I gave you my room for the night. Keep the dress. Can we talk? You pick the date and time.

Freira Caveadel.]

Leila gripped the note, and it wrinkled and folded. Freira was as persistent as ever. She slithered after her, but she had helped in some ways. Waking up in a room triple the size of Zain's dorm was surreal.

Her student uniform was removed. Instead, she wore a soft red one-piece dress with golden embroidery running up the sides and interlacing at the top. It jolted her awake, and the thought of leaving it behind as she traced her finger along the flowery gold affected her. She learned she had changed. She preferred women's clothing over men's clothing.

"One week," she said, straightening the note and reading it, "was all it took."

Flipping the note over, Leila ran her finger along its smooth surface, infusing mana as she inscribed words onto it. Enough time had passed since her conflict with Freira, as well as the fact that she helped her. The least she could do was allow her to speak.

Leila dropped it, and a gentle breeze carried it to the ground.

****

From the shadows of an indent on the wall outside the training hall, Freira observed Leila pass, her hips swaying with every step as her legs crossed in a smooth flow. Leila was a puzzle. Her words contradicted her actions. The swaying of her hips and the training she underwent suggested a unique fighting style that demanded a specific personality trait.

A trait she didn’t have. Leila constantly avoided others' gazes and tried to make herself invisible to escape their scrutiny and criticism. The trait should've made her maintain eye contact and exude confidence, even when facing those who despised her. What caused her to become like this?

“I have time.” Freira emerged from the shadows, her dress changing color to match the light from the magic lamps on the training ground—a thin veil covering the rest of her body. In the center of the training grounds, she found the note left by Leila. "And I have a starting point—well, if she lets me have it."

Freira picked up the note.

“Oh, good.” 

[Garden, tomorrow, lunch.]

She tapped her chin and pocketed the note. "I should bring something special. A meal and her dress. She didn't take it. Will she accept it this time? No one could refuse a silk dress twice.” She slapped both cheeks. “A meal and dress it is. She'll forgive me completely if I do that, right?”

****

The sun reached its peak, casting a shadow over half of the garden. A cool breeze ruffled Leila's hair as she lay on the bench. The clouds took on various shapes, some resembling humans and animals or obscure shapes she couldn't make out.

The clouds gave her peace. Taking a break from classes or training, and the fact that she began to accept this life. The wind picked up, cooling her sweaty face and clearing her mind.

“You came early.” Leila jolted upward.

Freira wore a blue one-piece with silver embroidery, similar in style to the red dress. To complement her outfit, she wore dark blue crystal earrings with silver rims. A wooden basket hanging from Leila's arm caught her attention, with a blue cloth sticking out from beneath the lid, which she placed on the ground and opened.

"As a host, I should arrive early," she said, pulling out a table with a blue cloth, white chairs, two tea cups, a teapot, and a selection of foods, including steak from the basket. A spatial item.

She dug her hand inside the basket again. “Put this on.”

Something red flew towards her, and she caught it. Her red dress.

"It's enchanted now, and to put it on, you'll need to visualize yourself wearing it. After that, it will store your current clothes in a pocket space for later use. It provides both warmth and coolness, ensuring optimal comfort and beauty.”

Leila visualized the dress on herself, and it materialized, replacing her uniform. A sense of comfort, as if the dress were always hers, overwhelmed her, and it fit her better than the uniform ever did.

She swayed her hips to one side, placed her hands on them, and struck a pose.

"The dress fits you well," Freira said. "Well, let's eat; the food is ready." She sat down and poured two cups of tea.

Leila followed, fidgeting with her dress. When Freira finished pouring, it stopped.

Leila sipped her tea.

"I'm impressed," Freida said, setting her cup down with her brows raised. "Commoners rarely acquire high-level etiquette, and it's even more remarkable that you have a connection to the hero. Did he teach you?"

“You asked for this meeting, and I accepted. I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have.” Leila placed her tea down.

“Fine, fine.” She sighed, pausing for a moment. “I'll get to the point. I want to help you. I'll do whatever you want.”

“Anything? Will you kill?”

“No—no, no. Nothing immoral, especially not killing the hero. You want the hero dead; I don't. Even asking or mentioning it will place you in a cell beneath the royal castle, bloodied and broken, or worse, dead. There, I really can’t help you.”

As expected.

“I can give you a house or aid in giving you a low noble status. I’ll provide a secret passage to another kingdom. That might be challenging, but I’ll do it.”

None of those options appealed to Leila. Even if they did, they were useless. The house would be outside the barrier, and a low noble status within the academy did not offer many benefits that she could obtain through her relationship with Zain. No passage she created would account for the barrier, which was an all-around spherical barrier.

“None? Who are you, really? Are you from an unknown noble family? No commoner would pass up a free opportunity for nobility or a house. Do you desire wealth?” She impaled her steak with a fork and cut a thin slice with her knife, eating it. "Forget that," she said, wiping her mouth. "What do you want?"

“A place to stay within the academy away from Zain, where I can live in peace and sleep in a bed.”

She described half of what she wanted and concealed the other, which she doubted Freira could fulfill—to have someone she could trust and be friends with. It lingered on the tip of her tongue.

“That’s what you want? Why don’t you live with me? My dorm room has three beds, which is sufficient for both of us. I can create additional clothing for you."

“Alright.” She agreed, knowing it’d come the quickest, which she needed. It was better than living with Zain or outside a dorm, and she had to take what she could.