At that, she changed the subject abruptly. "I should warn you — without Vivian's help, can you actually do makeup? To disguise yourself properly?"
"Well..."
Vincent happened to be standing in front of the vanity mirror, looking at the two neat rows of cosmetics arranged before it. "Nothing as precise as what Vivian can do. But enough that no one would recognise the original face — probably."
Bernadette said drily: "You mean randomly smearing things across your face."
"Hah — see, great minds think alike."
A few seconds of silence. "...Fine. I'll guide you through it when the time comes."
While trading quips, Vincent finished brushing his teeth, reached for the bath faucet — and Bernadette immediately called out: "What are you doing?"
"Having a bath."
"You absolutely are not!"
"???"
He blinked. "You didn't used to—"
"Before was before. I couldn't see it, so I could pretend not to know. But now—"
Her voice carried genuine indignation. "You stripping off my clothes and running your hands over my body — right in front of me — is something I simply cannot accept!"
"..."
Vincent pressed his palm to his forehead. "Alright. Fine. No bath."
"I do need to correct one thing, though. Your description leaves rather a lot to the imagination. I am just bathing."
"From where I'm standing, it amounts to the same thing."
"..."
Your Majesty, you're the one whose human side got split out, and that human side is running a little too strong right now.
A few minutes later, Vincent flopped onto the bed and exhaled. "What a messy day. Good night, Bernadette."
"Good night."
He closed his eyes, ready to sleep — then thought of something. "In your current state, can you even rest? Don't tell me you'll just be staring at the ceiling all night while I'm unconscious."
"Don't worry. I can rest too."
"Really?"
"Yes."
She fell quiet for a moment. Then, unexpectedly: "Vincent."
"Mm?"
"Tell me a bedtime story. Like Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Snow White — that sort."
"Sure."
He agreed, then immediately ran into a problem. Every fairy tale he knew, Emperor Roselle had almost certainly already told Bernadette.
She seemed to read his hesitation and said softly: "Don't worry about whether I've heard it before."
"Alright — Snow White it is, then."
Vincent gathered his thoughts and began. "Once upon a time there was a king..."
For the next half hour, Bernadette was very quiet. Even after he finished the story, she didn't speak again.
"Good night, Bernadette."
The following morning.
Vincent was jolted awake by a wave of intense pain.
He opened his eyes, instinctively flashed out of the bedroom and into the sitting room, then felt his legs buckle under him — barely caught himself — as the pain surged even harder.
"What the—"
He bent forward and pressed both hands against his lower abdomen. "Did someone just stick a knife in me?"
Hang on. This is Bernadette's Sequence 3 body. It doesn't get hurt this easily. And even if it did, the pain wouldn't be like this. A high-Sequence attack? But there's no wound...
Could it be a curse?
"Ah—!"
Bernadette let out a stifled cry of pain. "It's — it's that."
"What? Which 'that'?"
"The one you asked me about once. My... monthly visitor."
Bernadette swore silently to herself. It had been well over a hundred years since she had last experienced this particular ambush — the kind that attacked from inside and left you simultaneously aching and utterly drained. The kind she would remember for her entire life.
And now it had arrived.
Of all the possible moments.
She had been smugly looking forward to letting this man experience the pain that women endure. And now — through exquisite cosmic timing — it had arrived on her own watch.
"???"
Vincent was briefly stunned. "Are you serious. It actually came."
A Sequence 3 demigod, practically a goddess among humans — and she's been taken out by her own monthly cycle.
That is frankly absurd.
Right. Think. What does one do for this?
Drink hot water?
Hot water!
No — red sugar and ginger tea.
He staggered toward the kitchen, found nothing useful at all — Vivian had never imagined Her Majesty would need to cook for herself and had stocked accordingly.
He staggered back. "What do people in your world eat to reduce the symptoms?"
"I don't know."
Bernadette hesitated for a long moment, then said through gritted teeth: "However, I would... suggest you first go and purchase a menstrual belt."
"..."
"???"
"...Damn."
Half an hour later.
Under Bernadette's guidance, Vincent had fitted the menstrual belt and was sitting on the toilet, staring blankly at the wall.
Emperor, you invented so many things. You got around to inventing a condom but somehow never got to the sanitary towel.
Were you just in it for yourself?
Disgraceful.
He thought for a moment. "Bernadette, do you think an Apothecary might have something that could help with... our current situation?"
"I'm not sure either."
He thought of the chubby fellow he'd nearly forgotten — the possible Apothecary from last time. He wondered if the man was doing all right, whether he'd ended up in jail.
Ding-a-ling.
A bell rang at the front door.
Wonderful timing.
Vincent breathed deep, went to the dressing room, changed, and made his way to the door. "Oh — we haven't done makeup yet."
"Never mind it for now. Come on — I'll walk you through it."
"Right."
The bell outside rang two or three more times, then stopped.
Vincent sat before the vanity mirror like a puppet on strings — Bernadette spoke, he moved; she said the next step, he did it.
Cleanse. Moisturise. Foundation. Concealer. Setting powder. Eyebrows. Eye makeup. Blush. Contour. Lip colour...
It had to be said: the cosmetics process in the world of Lord of the Mysteries was essentially no different from what Vincent knew from back home, just limited somewhat by available materials, so the end results fell short of what he was used to.
The whole process took nearly an hour. It was his first time doing makeup, but things had gone smoothly. Still—
"Uhh. Does this look... different from how Vivian usually did it?"
Bernadette said evenly: "A few adjustments were made. Different enough that no one would recognise the original face — while being as presentable as possible under the circumstances."
"..."
'As possible under the circumstances.' Does that mean the adjustments were significant?
He supposed it didn't really matter. He barely knew anyone in this city as it was. Might as well wear a whole new face and start fresh.
Hiss—
That thought was immediately interrupted by another stab of pain from his lower abdomen.
"How long does this go on for?"
"Generally the first and second days are the worst. By the third it's mostly passed." She quickly added: "But the menstrual belt still needs to be worn."
Vincent shrugged. "By the third day we'll have already exchanged. You can deal with the rest yourself."
"Hmm. Given that you hadn't experienced this before our exchange, the moment you swap back — do you suppose you'll just... instantly recover?"
Bernadette said coldly: "It seems you're not in enough pain."
"Cough cough—"
Vincent pressed his hands back to his abdomen, wincing.
"Remove your hands."
"...Those are your hands."
After the makeup was done, he collapsed onto the sitting room sofa and gulped down several mouthfuls of hot water, which seemed to help just slightly. "I really don't want to go out today. And I'm in no state to. Which makes this makeup feel rather pointless."
Ding-a-ling.
There it was again — the door bell.
He dragged himself upright, shuffling toward the door. "Who is it?"
"A commission."
Vincent opened the door to find a young man in a long coat and a hat. The man blinked, looked back at the sign over the door, and said: "Isn't this the Selfridge Detective Agency?"
"This was indeed the Selfridge Detective Agency. The detective disappeared a few months ago. The landlord re-let the premises — to me. I only moved in yesterday. Haven't gotten round to changing the sign yet."
"Disappeared?"
The young man looked genuinely surprised. "What a shame. Half a year ago when I first came to Backlund, I actually had quite a pleasant working relationship with that detective."
"Do you have something you'd like to commission? Come in and sit down."
"Are you a detective as well?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"Well, then. Come inside."
The two of them walked in. The young man said: "I'd like you to help me locate... two people, actually."
He continued: "I don't know if you've heard of the Delin Law Office. Attorney Delin, the head of the firm, was a friend of mine. He disappeared recently, and his newly hired assistant vanished along with him."
To be continued…
Advance 100 Chapters are up on my Patreon!
pat reon.com/AlphaSenatus