The Redo of a Novel's Villain: Moira

07 - House Nevoid

Days passed and the anticipated party was upon them. Huey was awoken by a group of Cheshire-like maids, Elaine's grin especially foreboding. Each of them had their hands pushed together itching to do something. His sixth sense screamed at him about a bad omen, and Huey wandered if it was possible to escape.

Cold sweat germinated on his back. He wetted his lips and asked with apprehension. "What are you scheming..."

The brunette merely smiled benignly. "Whatever do you mean Young Master? We're merely doing our job. Now stay still." Despite the polite tone her words were somewhat laced in passive aggression.

'Is this their revenge..?' Internally sobbing, Huey came to accept his fate for the day.

That morning, the kind and cute maids transformed into the terrifying neighborhood aunties. The ones with hair curlers still in the hair, matte nail polish, cozy clothes, and designer brand slippers and bags.

Huey shivered. Remembering how as a kid he'd be left in their care when his parents were busy. The bows, the hair styles, the photographs...

After a rushed breakfast, they first bathed him, rubbed scented hair oil into his hair, had all sorts of ointments spread onto his face (which included a rather relaxing facial), brushed his hair, and finally they brought out the clothes.

It consisted of an onyx tailcoat with gold embroideries of peonies and stars with clouds in the back. On the inside of the coat was a beautiful pale gold pattern which formed similar looking images akin to the outer embroidery. The cuffs were white, each adorned with two ruby cufflinks. His gloves were thin, the same shade as his coat. The dress shirt was platinum white, the silk fabric casting a shiny and rich cascade. The pigment contrasting nicely with the lavish coat. A shoulder cape draped down to his knees dyed in rose gold, the shadows ashy and cool. The pants were plain white. Nothing extravagant apart from the material. It fit his legs perfectly, giving the flattering illusion of length and slenderness. The shoes were dark as obsidian, the polished leather stitched cleanly together to fit snugly around his feet.

That baldy tailor really out did himself.

Now seated, the maids styled, undid, then restyled his hair until they were satisfied. His hair still retained the usual style and fluff, however more modest and contained. No wild strands, just puffy soft curls. The accessories they spent half an hour deciding on sat snugly on his head. A dusty rose pin which held tiny carnelian rubies matched with the gem brooch adorned on his shirt's ruff.

A berry blush tinted his lips which stood out against his pale skin. Yet none of it could compare to the shade of his eyes accentuated with eyeshadow and highlights.

Huey let out an imperceptible breath upon seeing the completed look in the mirror. The appearance was dignified yet humble enough to not be deemed rude. His reflection was beautiful, living proof of the girls' hard work. Speaking of, the group squealed with satisfaction, content, and accomplishment. They were fatigued, but their eyes glimmered with pride.

The male took in everything slowly, appreciating the details. He gave a small smile and expressed his gratitude.

"Thank you." For the maids, the tailor, and the rest of the servants. In response the maids beamed brightly, giggling amongst themselves.

Elaine spoke for their behalf. "It is our honour Young Master. To tell you the truth we've been wanting to dress you up for a while now, but in the past you'd always refuse anything complex." She sighed with eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Huey chuckled. He recalled the reason why. First it was too troublesome, second he was anxious that he'd mess it up, third he was worried the twins would stir up trouble again, and fourth he did not enjoy wearing the clothes his uncle chose. Being next to them especially when the family relation was evident is a painful reminder that they were family. The families in the books he's read were loving, enjoyable, had normal conflicts, joys, and memories. His family consisted of an uncle who could care less about him than a speck of dust, and two older cousins who scorned him each time they met. His mother succumbed to illness when he was a toddler, and his father soon followed suit after an untimely carriage incident. Both parents crossed to the afterlife and left him at the young age of five. Naturally he'd seek comfort from his only remaining family, only to be pushed away. Thus to even think of relishing in luxuries provided by his tormentor felt like taboo.