52 Dresses

"Congratulations," I greeted as I stepped out of the shower, droplets trickling down my body like a gentle waterfall.

"Thank you," Ichiko's voice echoed through the phone, infused with a sense of pride and triumph.

The Asano clan had emerged victorious in their clash against the Goto clan, a result that didn't catch me off guard especially when one party had two clans working together while the other party was isolated on their own like a hunted rabbit.

Curiosity grabbed a hold of me, and I inquired, "When do you plan on visiting again?"

Not that I desired her presence anywhere near me.

As a matter of fact, I preferred she remained exactly where she was. But just in case she did decide to come to visit again, I needed to prepare myself in advance.

"I still have some matters to attend to behind the scenes, and there are a few lingering issues that demand my attention. So, I'll be occupied for a while," she responded.

"So does that mean you won't have the time to visit?" I asked, a victorious grin spreading across my face in the reflection of the mirror.

I even gave the mirror a fist of victory as if I was the one who just finished war with another clan.

"It seems that way," she sighed. "I'm sorry."

Why was she apologizing? If anything, I should be thanking her!

"No need to apologize. Business is business; that's simply how life works," I assured her.

Since her departure from the city after the assassination attempt, we occasionally conversed over the phone to stay updated on recent developments.

It wasn't an obligatory practice set up by the two families, but I hoped that maintaining this connection would not only appease the Asano clan, which clearly sought to preserve our relationship in pristine condition but it would motivate Ichiko to stay home a little longer since she was already getting enough of me.

Before I could forget, I quickly hit the mute button on the phone.

I tugged on a transparent string before me, and within seconds, one of my overly generic-looking human bodyguards materialized in the bathroom.

"What is it, master?" he bowed, his knees pressing against the floor.

"I have a task for you," I commanded. "Retrieve this item for me. It's scheduled to be auctioned on the black market in a few days. Steal it or buy it... I don't care. Just obtain it."

I presented him with a picture of the stolen item, easily found on the internet since it belonged to the church and had been pilfered a week ago.

The bodyguard nodded, waiting for further instructions before vanishing into thin air after I gave him silence.

If it weren't for my training session with Quentin later that day, I would have personally attended the auction to acquire the item. However, missing a day of training was simply not an option.

It had been two weeks since our training began, and I was still focused on perfecting the art of stabbing and slashing my sword.

Quentin offered fewer and fewer suggestions as my technique improved and needed fewer corrections, but whenever he did provide guidance, it helped me overcome whatever wall was hindering me.

His self-proclaim title as one of the best teachers was absolutely deserving.

Leaning towards the mirror so I could shave the short strands of hair that could barely be called a beard, I contemplated the years I had dedicated to training.

Yes, you heard right. Years.

It wasn't just a matter of spending hours sculpting my physical body with the simple motion of stabbing and slashing.

Whenever my mana reserves depleted, Quentin would put me to sleep and transport me into his personalized dream world where I would spend years repeating the same actions over and over.

That's all I did.

Despite the time spent within those dreamscapes, it didn't feel as though I had aged mentally nor was my memory storage filled with what happened during the dreams.

Quentin had assured me that there would be no adverse effects on my mental state, and he was proven correct.

Whenever I woke up, however, it looked like the ability took a toll on Quentin instead and he was drenched in sweat.

That's why he couldn't use it the entire time that we were together.

Yesterday, he had even allotted an hour for me to train with the spear alone.

Just like with the sword, the training he had me focus on was stabbing and slashing with the weapon.

Although the spear possessed a different length and the balance was at the tip where the blade was and required me to consider its form, it quickly became an extension of myself— a limb that moved with ease and grace.

Was this what Quentin meant when he said the spear was meant for me?

Or was it because I had ingrained the sword techniques so deeply that adapting them to another weapon became effortless?

Perhaps it was a combination of both.

Gazing into the mirror in front of me, it was obvious that the reflection that it showed was of Bell Agnus from the face to the chiseled body.

Before when I arrived in this world, I was able to easily conjure up the image of Asher Lee, the person I was.

Now, it felt like he was fading away from my grasp.

I couldn't tell if he was simply vanishing as I was in a new environment that didn't allow him to be present or if it was because that identity was merging with Bell due to the memories meshing together.

'I don't know anymore,' I sighed as I splashed my face with water to wash away the shaving foam.

Today was one of the few days that Quentin allowed me to rest and that was only because a special event was taking place.

"Apologies for not being able to attend your little sister's birthday party," Ichiko expressed remorse.

She sounded like she really wanted to be here for a different motive.

"It's alright. You're a busy individual," I replied.

"Thank you for understanding. Can you convey my birthday wishes to her? I've also sent a gift," she requested.

"I'll be sure to do that."

There was a split second of silence after that.

"Alright, I need to hang up now," she told me.

"Okay. Talk to you later."

Her farewell was abrupt as if interrupted by something during the call.

'One day, I'll have to visit her country. It would be intriguing to witness the chaos firsthand,' I thought to myself.

The shitty god had modeled her country after Earth's Japan, albeit twice as large, as if the battlefield itself wasn't vast enough to satisfy his whims of making it a legalized warzone country.

"Brother, hurry up!" Rubi's voice resounded, a knock accompanying her impatience.

She was too short to reach the door handle to open it.

Swiftly, I draped a towel around my waist, concealing myself, and opened the door.

"What is it, birthday girl?" I asked with a gentle smile.

She spun around, her red dress billowing open like a blooming flower. "What do you think?" she inquired.

"I believe... it could be better," I responded. Though I wanted to exclaim that it looked wonderful as if it made her look like a real flower, the expression on her face indicated that she wanted this particular response.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, dashing down the hallway barefooted.

"Be careful, Rubi. Don't trip," I cautioned her.

"I won't!" she declared.

As I expected, she stumbled and fell flat on her face. I was about to rush over but in an instant, she rose to her feet, rubbed her nose, and placed a finger against her lips, silently signaling me to remain quiet about the incident.

I nodded understandingly and uttered, "Be more careful. Please."

She refused to walk but slowed down to a speedwalk, reaching the end of the hallway before descending the stairs.

In the distance, I overheard her conversation with our mother. "Mommy, I told you this dress isn't pretty enough."

"How do you know?"

"Because brother agrees with me."

"Your brother? Alright, let's try a different dress then. Wait... baby, are you implying that your brother has a better eye for dresses than your own mother?"

"No."

The two of them laughed and the footsteps faded.

The exchange amused me, evoking a slight chuckle as I proceeded to brush my teeth.

As I cleaned my tongue, I couldn't help but wonder, 'How long will I remain in this world?'

Each passing day being here made it increasingly difficult to hold onto that nostalgic feeling of Earth.

"Every day, my real home slips further from my grasp," I sighed, a tinge of wistfulness lacing my words.

The desire to return home persisted, but with each passing moment, it seemed more challenging to detach myself from this world I was currently in.

Unresolved matters awaited me back home, and unlike the somewhat predictable nature of this novel world, I couldn't foresee the outcome of those affairs — whether they would conclude in my favor or not.

"Bell... or Asher."

The question lingered, haunting my thoughts. "Who am I?" I pondered, grappling with the real but old me and the fake but current me.

Footsteps grew louder in the distance, and without hesitation, Rubi breezed into the bathroom as I left the door open for her.

Her carefree entrance was a stark contrast to the weighty thoughts that occupied my mind and it brought me back to the present.

"Brother, what about now?" she inquired, twirling gracefully in her ice-blue dress, resembling a vision crafted from diamonds and frost.

Before assessing her attire, I observed her face, searching for cues as to the answer she desired.

"It's perfect. You look perfect," I affirmed, the words filled with sincerity.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, her jubilant bounce mirroring the pride she felt, now validated by someone else's opinion.

Suddenly, she halted and peered at me, concern etching her features.

"What's wrong?" I asked, wondering if I had an injury I didn't know about.

"Brother, please hurry and get dressed," she urged. "You should aim to be at least half as beautiful as me, or else I'll be embarrassed."

Before I could respond, she darted off in the opposite direction, leaving me chuckling at her lightheartedness.

"Why would you be the one feeling embarrassed?" I wondered.

Entering the closet, I sighed, realizing I couldn't let her down.

Rubi's uncharacteristic nervousness puzzled me. During her previous birthday celebration, she had paid minimal attention to her attire or that of others.

Could it be that she sought to impress someone?

"Is it... a boy?" My eyebrows furrowed, and I gently pushed them back into place with my fingers.

"That better not be the case," said Cyro outside my door yawning, having just woken up.