Chapter 4 Dungeons And Dresses

• A big, shaky, exhale spilled out of Diana’s lips. Her shaky hand went to her forehead, pressing against the smooth and mildly warm skin. Lightheadedness washed over her as a byproduct of the tensed and stilted exchange she had with Alistair. Still, she had the presence of mind to gather her notes, fold them gingerly twice, and stuffed them inside the pocket of her chemise.
• Then she walked towards the door, which she assumed led to the ensuite bathroom. She needed a splash of cold water on her face, hoping it would give her a semblance of clarity or, better yet, wake her up as though everything that had happened so far were nothing other than a bizarre and oddly vivid dream.
• But as her hand closed around the door handle, a line of thought popped in her head.
• The fictional world Diana was transmigrated in was a fantasy place that had a medieval-like environment. And while she practiced suspension of disbelief when reading, always willing herself not to mind such details of sanitation and hygiene, worry began to form.
• ‘Oh geez. Will I be able to survive the lack of modern showers and toilets here?’
• Another round of panic came coursing through her, mainly about bathing and defecating situations she would have to endure.
• ‘Please, please, please… Let the bathroom be clean, decent and not so outdated. Please. Let there be soap!’
• Taking a deep breath, Diana twisted the knob and pushed the door open.
• “Oh, thank goodness,” she muttered breathily, melting down in relief and leaning her arm on the door frame for support.
• The bathroom was quite passable to her standard. Although it looked quite antiquated compared to the bathroom features she is used to, it wasn’t something she couldn’t work with. But what relieved her the most was the series of items—hygiene products—on the shelf near the mirror by the washbasin.
• Knowing herself, the lack of decent bathroom amenities would’ve caused her will to live to drop from a hundred to zero in a blink of an eye. She would probably allow herself to get killed if surviving meant once in a blue moon bathtime and perpetually defecating somewhere else other than a toilet.
• She crossed the threshold, going for the faucet. Cold and clean water streamed down as soon as she twisted the tap, and she immediately washed her face, uncaring of its icy temperature.
• “I can do it. I am God’s strongest soldier,” she told her reflection in the mirror resolutely. But the longer she stared at the face that wasn’t truly hers, the more her flimsy confidence wavered. “No. No, I am not. And. I. Am. Doomed.”
• Embarrassingly, Diana spent nearly half an hour breaking down in the bathroom. It wasn’t her finest moment, but she was able to build some mettle to see Alistair for dinner.
• She allowed herself to go through the real Diana Claremont-Blackwell’s wardrobe and choose a simple yet really nice olive green dress that reached just around her ankle. It had butterfly sleeves and was cinched at the waist. Its color provided a good contrast to her hair, which she had kept in a side braid.
• When she slipped out of the room, it was then she realized she had no idea how to get to the dining hall. She stood stupidly in the hall for a moment, thinking if she should dare to venture on her own with a very big possibility of getting lost.
• ‘How bad could it be? Maybe I’ll meet someone along the way who could help me.’
• Equipping herself with that naively positive thought, she began her quest in finding the dining hall of the Moonfyre Manor, which was proclaimed to be the third grandest manor in the entire continent.
• She walked the quiet halls without allowing herself to be distracted by the paintings lining the stone walls. She had to be mindful of the twists and turns she was making so if she did end up lost, she could at least backtrack and return to her room.
• Taking another turn, she found another staircase that led down. She headed for it without hesitation, thinking dining halls are usually on the ground floor of the castle.
• “Ugh. How hard is it to be a gentleman and pick me up in my room? If it’s too much for him, then he could have at least had someone to do it.”
• “Forgive me for my blunder then.”
• Diana wasn’t entirely sure if she should cry in relief that Alistair found her or die in embarrassment that he heard all her grumblings.
• “Seriously,” Diana said as she turned around to face Alistair, feigning confidence. “Is this how we’re always going to meet today?”
• Alistair only shrugged.
• “Eavesdropping isn’t a fine hobby, by the way.”
• “You are right, of course.” Alistair nodded. “But you might also want to consider refraining from talking to yourself. But if you really must do so, then may I suggest you keep your volume down.”
• A pink flush appeared on Diana’s neck, crawling up to her face. She faked a smile at Alistair and replied with gritted teeth, “Thank you for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind.”
• Amusement twinkled in Alistair’s eyes, but the rest of his face remained quite impassive. He dipped his head a little as if bowing in acknowledgement for her gratitude. “Now… May I know where you are going?”
• “Dinner, of course.”
• Diana’s answer caused the corners of Alistair’s lips to slightly curl upward.
• “And since when did we start having our dinner in the dungeons?”
• Diana’s entire body went hot in embarrassment. Her cheeks felt like they were on flames, and her tongue refused to work. But she couldn’t really form a single intelligent retort anyway. Her mind had gone empty apart from one particular thought.
• ‘He knows I am an impostor now.’
• But Alistair, who was barely concealing the hilarity he found in her mortification, didn’t accuse her of anything. “Come on, Diana. Let me be a gentleman and lead you to the dining hall.”
• He offered her his arm, and she wordlessly accepted it, slipping her hand in the crook of his elbow. They walked without uttering a word to each other, and the sound of their footfalls was the only thing that filled the silence between them.
• It only lasted for a couple of minutes, though, since Alistair found it necessary to break the quiet with a compliment.
• “You look beautiful tonight. You’ve decided that dressing up for a simple dinner with me could persuade me to give in to what you want?”
• Diana didn’t immediately rise to the bait, her brain only latching on to the implied fact that his beloved Diana didn’t usually wear dresses. That meant she had once again made a mistake by choosing to wear the olive green dress. But she believed she could still fib her way through it.
• “Beauty is a useful weapon in my arsenal. So I was just trying my luck. Maybe I could get you to agree by the end of tonight’s dinner.”
• “I’m afraid looking pretty for me would not yield the outcome you desire, Diana.”
• Diana shrugged. “At least I tried.”
• “Hm… I appreciate the effort to dress up for me, despite the intention behind it. You truly look beautiful.”
• Diana didn’t feel much at the compliment. The face didn’t belong to her, so the praise wasn’t also hers to bask in.
• Still, she accepted it graciously and returned one to Alistair. “Thank you. You are also quite a sight tonight.”
• Diana wasn’t lying this time. Alistair did look gorgeous in his black poet shirt, which was half a size too large on him. The looseness of the garment made him look like a melancholic prince from a fairytale. He paired it with equally dark fitted pants with a leather strap around his left thigh for his dagger. His hair was more mussed up than it was earlier, as if he had been running his hand through the silky and soft strands for quite some time. A golden necklace hung around his neck; its Moonfyre insignia pendant visible with how loose he tied the strings on his shirt’s frilled, low V-neck opening.
• “It seemed like you dressed up for tonight too. Did you wish to use your own looks to persuade me into forgetting about what I want?”
• Alistair only hummed in response, but his ears betrayed the emotions he wished to conceal by becoming utterly red.