Chapter 206 Night of the Festival(1)
A new day has begun.
The exam season concluded, and a weekend holiday unfolded, providing the perfect opportunity for relaxation.
The students at the Academy seized this time to engage in discussions about the upcoming festival.
The festival planning committee decided that each class or club should devise a concept for the event, including the members of the newspaper club.
Dolores, both the student council president and the club’s leader, gave her approval.
“So, our club is going for a haunted house and a bar, correct?”
In the Empire, Halloween coincided with late summer, offering an excellent reason to celebrate, especially after the taxing exams.
“Well then, let’s pre-determine the ghost personas we’ll be portraying,” Tudor suggested.
At Tudor’s suggestion, students from the first, second, and third years all nodded in agreement.
Then, Bianca raised a question.
“But, is ‘the tradition’ still applicable this time?”
Bianca’s inquiry captured everyone’s attention, and it was clear that everyone comprehended her point.
In the Academy, it was customary for men to disguise themselves as women and women as men during festivals—a time-honored tradition even the professors couldn’t avoid.
Tudor, Sancho, Figgy, Bianca, Sinclaire, and all the other class members contemplated this.
“So, the plan is for the men to dress up as female ghosts, and the women as male ghosts.”
“Exactly. We’ll dress up as ghosts and switch genders.”
“But are there distinct female ghosts and male ghosts?”
“No, there’s no such distinction. You simply switch genders while wearing the ghost costume. For instance, there are female zombies and male zombies.”
“And then we can serve drinks and meals while wearing our costumes!”
“Alright, let’s draw lots to determine which ghost each of us will dress up as.”
“Let’s draw lots for 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th years.”
“That’s a good idea, considering each grade has a different number and gender ratio.”
Subsequently, the members drew lots from the box.
Tudor was the first to draw a lot.
Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.
The scraps of paper in the box brushed against his fingertips.
He had to be cautious because picking the wrong lot could land him in black history.
“Please give me one that’s okay….”
Tudor closed his eyes, prayed, and seized the scrap of paper.
Unfolding the tightly folded lot revealed the ghost concept: [Death Knight].
“Ah, this will do, and I don’t particularly have to worry about the gender.”
With black armor and a bloody sword, anyone could dress up as a Death Knight, irrespective of gender.
Tudor retained his blue eyes and blond hair, simply adding long hair.
It was a handsome look, but as with his previous cross-dressing attempts, the lines were bold, and the look didn’t quite work.
Next, Sancho drew his lot.
[Snow Maiden]
As a warrior raised on the frozen soil of the north, Sancho adopted the concept of a ghost with a cold image.
“Ugh. I don’t like this role.”
Unlike roles such as zombies and vampires, the Snow Maiden required cross-dressing, which wasn’t ideal for men.
When makeup was applied to his muscular body, Tudor burst out laughing.
“Isn’t it an ice golem, not a snow maiden?”
“Hahahaha- Let It Go, buddy.”
Everyone laughed heartily at Sancho’s unsuccessful attempt at cross-dressing.
Fortunately, Sancho didn’t seem to mind cross-dressing.
After all, he firmly believed that cross-dressing was something only men could do, making it a manly act.
After that, Figgy also drew a lot.
[Fairy]
Figgy could now showcase his tiny, cute appearance to the fullest.
With wings on his back, he resembled a real fairy.
Next up was Bianca.
[Frankenstein]
Bianca sported stitches all over her body and nails in her hair.
Her mustache was a bonus.
Naturally tall and attractive with an androgynous flair, this makeup suited her perfectly.
“Okay, next up is….”
Bianca shifted her gaze to find Sinclaire standing nearby, yet Sinclaire appeared to have something specific on her mind.
“You know, I’ve been working on a costume.”
“Really? What is it?”
Bianca’s eyes widened; she hadn’t anticipated Sinclaire’s enthusiasm for Halloween dressing up.
Subsequently, Sinclaire opened her bag and retrieved the costume she had brought—a single, giant spider with clumsy sewing. Atop her head perched a tiny crown.
“Ta-da! It’s the Spider Queen. How is it?”
“Ohhh. I didn’t realize you liked spiders so much. By the way, didn’t you scream like crazy the other day when a spider came out of the bathroom?”
“Yeah, did I? I don’t remember… Anyway, I love spiders!”
Bianca could only shake her head at Sinclaire’s almost apologetic tone.
And then, everyone’s attention turned to the same spot—the person about to draw lots.
“….”
A weary Vikir rose from his seat.
Drat.
Tension filled the air as Vikir’s chair was pushed back, and for some reason, what Vikir would choose became a topic of considerable interest throughout the entire academy.
Reporters from the Cold Department had cameras ready, and there were already discussions about Vikir’s participation in the dressing-up event.
Tudor, Sancho, and Figgy whispered with envious glances.
“I heard there was a line from first years to fourth years lined up to take part in dressing up Vikir?”
“I heard that even the Imperial Palace’s makeup artists formally applied to the Academy.”
“The Empire’s most prestigious magazines are paying big bucks for Vikir’s cross-dressing photos.”
Of course, all these external approaches were summarily dismissed to protect the academy’s students. Professor Morg Banshee, in irritation, rejected all applications and interview requests.
Next, Vikir’s lot was revealed.
[Witch]
A ghost with a perfect female concept, a role demanding delicate and complete makeup like the Snow Queen.
If any male student had drawn this lot, the audience might have burst into laughter, just as Sancho had once.
But.
“….”
“….”
“….”
No one in the room laughed at Vikir’s role. Instead, a strange sense of unidentifiable anticipation permeated the room.
Soon, a witch’s costume was thrust in front of Vikir.
A black hat, a black cloak, a tattered broom, and long, black false nails—a witchy ensemble, poised to cast forbidden black magic at a moment’s notice. However, the quality of the witch’s outfit quickly stole the spotlight.
The girls tasked with applying makeup to Vikir’s face wore expressions of disbelief.
“Wow, it’s really a waste to hide that face with bangs and rimmed glasses..”
“Is he really a guy, right?”
“This mana screen is going to be a big hit in tomorrow’s newspaper.”
Amidst the chatter, Vikir’s brow furrowed slightly. White skin, a sharp nose, blood-red lips, and eyelashes as long as snowfall—Vikir, with makeup on, looked ethereal, a face seemingly not of this world. The boys watching were bewildered about his gender identity.
Vikir himself felt uneasy with these reactions.
‘This never happened in my previous life.’
Before regressing, Vikir was accustomed to disdainful looks. Shorter and more fragile than in his previous life, a childhood injury left him with a limp. Knife marks and burns adorned his face from various missions, making girls cry or flee in his presence. The pretty ladies of the academy avoided him, giving disdainful glances or even spitting on him.
As a hunting dog, Vikir was trained to be emotionless, so he wasn’t hurt by this treatment. However, in this life, he grew taller, had no scars, and faced a stark change from what he expected, making it challenging for Vikir to adapt.
“….”
Vikir furrowed his brow, causing an uproar in the room.
“Vikir, why, what’s wrong, just tell me!”
“Are you thirsty? Are you hungry? Are you uncomfortable somewhere? Can I get you something to drink?”
“Are your clothes too tight? Should I loosen the corset on your back? Are your high heels the right size? Are your toes hurting?”
“Are the eyelashes too heavy? Is the makeup too dark? Are you feeling stuffy? Should I lighten the makeup and make sure your skin doesn’t have any blemishes? Ugh…”
“Isn’t it too sunny by the window? I’ll cover it with my back!”
“By the way, do you have a sister? Does she look like you? If so, can I call you brother-in-law?”
“Hey, this is a big deal. Everyone, block behind me. If this face leaks, it will at least be a stampede!”
“But are you a witch or an angel?”
“Oh, God Rune, this is the face I’ll be wearing to confession tonight… Please forgive this lustful lamb….”
Just then, a startled whistling noise emerged from the other side of the club room.
Everyone, focused on Vikir’s face, turned to see a third-year student holding a box of lots, her face pale. Dolores, having just drawn a lot, stood there with a thoughtful expression.
“….”
She looked at the lot in her hand, revealing the role she would play in the festival. The words were inscribed inside the swallow.
[Night Hound]
