As I decided to dress, Papagalino, being the gentleman he claimed to be, turned away, his arms crossed. But I had a feeling he was sneaking glances from the corner of his eye. The idea of him watching made my cheeks burn, and I turned my back to him, determined to find something appropriate.

I sifted through the wardrobe, trying to locate the most modest outfit possible, but it was harder than I thought. Everything was luxurious, extravagant, and far too ornate for my liking. Velvet, silk, brocade — the garments were an overwhelming blend of rich fabrics and intricate details, none of which felt like me. I had to dig deep to find something that wasn't too flashy.

Finally, I pulled out a suit that was understated but elegant. It was inspired by Mozart-era fashion, with a fitted waistcoat in a muted shade of dove gray, paired with a white cravat and knee-length breeches. The coat was a deeper charcoal, with subtle embroidery along the edges that shimmered only when the light caught it. It felt both masculine and refined, a quiet statement amid the opulence.

I slipped it on, feeling the fine fabric brush against my skin. The cravat sat high around my neck, and the waistcoat fit snugly. It was simple but romantic in its own way, and I felt a small thrill at the idea of stepping out in something that made me feel a bit more like myself, even in this strange place.

When I turned around, Papagalino raised an eyebrow, his expression critical. "You chose that?"

"What's wrong with it?" I asked, glancing down at myself.

"It's... peculiar that you're wearing men's clothes. Women here usually wear dresses."

"Lady Mono also dresses like this," I pointed out.

"Lady Mono is different. She's the Queen's right hand. You —" he trailed off, shaking his head. "You're supposed to be a concubine."

"Well, I'm not interested in wearing a gown," I replied, standing tall. "This suits me."

Papagalino sighed but didn't argue further. "Fine. But if the Queen says anything, don't say I didn't warn you."

I set about fixing my hair, trying to tame my chestnut waves into something more polished. Papagalino, ever the multitasker, took it upon himself to feed me breakfast as I worked. The maids had brought in a tray piled high with an assortment of foods — delicate pastries, fruit slices, and warm bread with butter.

As I focused on smoothing out my hair, he slipped a bite of something between my lips. I barely registered what it was; my nerves were too frayed to notice the taste. Then he offered a spoonful of porridge, which I ate without protest, my mind too preoccupied to complain. I was grateful for the distraction, even if he was acting more like a nanny than a servant.

"Eat up, you'll need your strength," he said, poking another forkful of something savory my way. "The Queen won't be pleased if you faint during lunch."

I gave a small nod, chewing mechanically as I fixed my hair. The ritual of getting ready, even with Papagalino's unorthodox help, managed to steady my nerves a bit. I focused on the feel of the brush in my hand, the sensation of the food, even if I wasn't really tasting it. It was all about grounding myself, about preparing for what lay ahead.

When we finally stepped out of my chambers, the castle felt alive, buzzing with energy as servants moved about, preparing for the day. The light from the high windows cast long shadows on the floor, and my anxiety started to creep back.

As we walked down the corridor, I saw them — the Black and White Concubines, making their way toward us with their aviata servants trailing behind. They looked regal, each exuding a powerful presence. Their clothes, as always, were immaculate. The Black Concubine was draped in deep, inky silks, while the White Concubine wore a flowing white gown, delicate and almost ethereal.

The effect was immediate — like something straight out of an anime. Their eyes widened as they took in my attire. Papagalino strutted beside me, head held high, like he was escorting royalty. I tried to do the same, pretending not to notice their reactions, but I could feel the intensity of their gazes.

The White Concubine, Fari, narrowed her eyes, her lips curling into a displeased sneer. The look she gave me was filled with disdain, and I felt a sharp pang of insecurity. I knew she didn't approve, and it was hard not to let it get to me. Her aviata maid walked beside her, keeping her eyes down, avoiding mine entirely. She didn't acknowledge me at all, as if I were beneath her notice.

But the Black Concubine, the one with the cascading ebony hair and black velvety skin, was different. She offered me a small, warm smile, inclining her head as a sign of greeting. Her aviata servant, with bright blue feathers, nodded politely. It was a small gesture, but it made my heart lift. At least not everyone in the castle saw me as an intruder.

We reached a small drawing room where we were to wait for the Queen. It was cozy, with plush chairs and soft rugs underfoot, the walls lined with bookshelves and paintings of the night sky. The Black Concubine, whose name I still didn't know, gestured for me to sit beside her.

"You're new here," she said, her voice as smooth as silk. "And you dress quite differently from the others."

I tried to remain composed, feeling the weight of her attention. "Yes, I'm not used to gowns. This feels more comfortable."

She studied me, her eyes dark and knowing, before she smiled. "It suits you." Her compliment felt genuine, and I found myself relaxing a little.

As she asked more polite, almost mundane questions — about how I was finding the castle, if I was settling in well — I noticed the grace with which she carried herself. Everything about her was elegant and poised, like she had mastered the art of being both a mystery and an open book. Her dress, which at first seemed a simple black, was a symphony of different shades — deep midnight, charcoal, and the softest velvet. It moved with her, catching the light in ways that made it seem alive, almost like a shadow that had taken form.

Her hair, just as dark, flowed down her back in waves, adorned with small, subtle gemstones that twinkled when she moved. Her skin, like polished ebony, had a velvety texture that caught the light, adding to her ethereal aura. She was striking, the embodiment of grace and beauty, and I found myself captivated by her presence.

I tried my best to answer her questions, keeping my tone light and polite. But every time I glanced at her, I felt a pang of admiration mixed with envy. She was everything I wasn't — confident, poised, and perfectly at ease in this world.

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