Enkidu awoke to sunlight spilling through the tall windows of his guest room, the golden light soft against the polished stone floor. The sheets were too soft. The pillows too fluffy. The room too... much.
The mansion was beautiful, sure—but it had a kind of pristine stillness that made him feel like a flower in a glass box. Elegant, admired... and contained.
He pulled on the clothes that had been laid out for him by the door. Flowing silk, emerald green trim, long sleeves with gold-threaded cuffs. It wasn't exactly masculine—but then again, neither was he.
He didn't even question the fit. Roswaal had clearly tailored it for him.
What he didn't expect was the reaction when he stepped out into the hall.
Rem was walking by, carrying a basket of linens. She stopped, blinked, and then gave a soft smile followed by a small, respectful bow.
"Good morning, my lady," she said politely.
Enkidu stared at her. "...Pardon?"
"Roswaal-sama instructed that you be treated with the utmost care during your stay. If you have any needs, please let either me or my sister know."
She bowed again and walked off, leaving Enkidu standing dumbfounded.
"My... lady?"
It didn't stop with Rem.
When he entered the dining hall, Ram was already there pouring tea. She glanced at him, made a barely noticeable pause, and said flatly, "Your tea, Lady Enkidu."
He sighed. "I'm not a—"
She raised a brow. "Guest or not, Roswaal-sama was very specific. You are to be treated as a noble lady during your stay."
"I'm not even a noble, let alone—"
"Then perhaps you shouldn't wear noblewomen's robes," Ram said, pouring the tea without blinking.
"I didn't choose these."
"You didn't refuse them, either."
He groaned and sipped the tea. To be fair, it was excellent.
Roswaal was, of course, absolutely no help.
When Enkidu found him lounging in the drawing room later, draped in purple and reading a book upside-down, the eccentric lord only grinned.
"Ahhh~! Lady Enkidu~! What a vision you are~!"
"I'm not a lady."
"Mmmm, but the world sees you as one now, doesn't it~? Sometimes a mask is more powerful than the face beneath it~."
"I don't wear masks."
Roswaal chuckled. "No~? Then perhaps you are the mask."
Enkidu scowled.
"And besides~," Roswaal continued, setting his book down, "this misunderstanding gives you space. Nobles are rarely questioned. Especially by twin maids who are too polite—or too tired—to pry~."
"You're doing this on purpose."
Roswaal gave a theatrical wink.
"I always am~."
The rest of the day was spent wandering the halls, attempting to understand the strange rhythm of life in the mansion.
Ram was cold and dutiful. Rem was polite and watchful. Emilia, when he glimpsed her in the garden, waved warmly—but even she seemed unsure how to talk to him now that he was officially a guest.
He could feel the tension in the mansion.
Still, he wasn't treated poorly. Quite the opposite. Meals were delivered to his room. He was told he could request books, bathe at any time, and even ask for Rem to draw him a bath.
That last part made him almost choke on his tea.
By evening, Enkidu needed space.
He wandered to the far east wing of the mansion—older, quieter, untouched by daily activity. The hallway was lined with portraits and faded tapestries, their colors dulled by time.
At the end of the corridor stood a large wooden door with strange golden carvings. Unlike the others, this one didn't creak. It opened silently, as though welcoming him.
He stepped inside.
A massive, circular library stretched before him—tall shelves packed with dusty tomes, glowing crystals, and spellbooks older than the kingdom outside.
And at the center, curled up in a crimson armchair, sat a small girl.
Her hair was a golden swirl of curls and drills. Her dress was layered like a cake, pink and frilled, and her expression was frozen somewhere between annoyance and boredom.
"You're not supposed to be here, I suppose," she said without looking up.
Enkidu raised a brow. "You're very small to be guarding a library."
"I'm not small," she snapped, snapping her book closed. "You're just unnaturally tall, I suppose."
He chuckled. "Fair."
She finally looked up at him, squinting.
"Oh. You're the noble lady who isn't actually a lady."
"I never claimed to be," Enkidu said.
"And yet everyone seems to think you are. Interesting."
The girl stood, dusting off her skirt. "Most nobles who wander in here are loud, nosy, and smell like lies. You… smell like something else. Old. Strange."
"Thanks?"
"Don't thank me. I'm not complimenting you, I suppose."
Enkidu walked further into the room, glancing at the books. "You live here?"
"I guard this place," she corrected, puffing her chest. "I am Beatrice. Keeper of the Forbidden Library. If you touch anything without permission, I'll teleport you into a wall."
"Noted."
They stared at each other a moment.
Beatrice narrowed her eyes. "...You can stay. For now."
"Gracious," Enkidu said, mock bowing. "You're very kind."
"Lies," she said.
And for the first time in this life Enkidu laughed.