The mirror is a cruel reminder.
In his former life, Rias was not "invisible." He was the one noticed for all the wrong reasons. That ugly, unappealing face was the anchor for every insult, every blow. He was "the ugly one," nature's mistake. So, to escape the body he loathed, he took refuge in the worlds of others: endless internet research, technical books, anime where the heroes always end up transforming, overcoming adversity.
Sometimes, in his escape, solitude became too heavy a poison. When the silence reminded him of how much he was hated, he hated himself even more than others did. He would lock himself in the bathroom with his mother's makeup. It was no longer a game. It was an attempt at biological hacking. He researched, studied shadows and contrasts, hoping that brushes could correct what genetics had botched. But the result remained cruelly mediocre. No matter how thick the foundation, the self-hatred always showed through.
Today, Rias is again woken up by the lady of the household. It's hard to get up with his child's body, and he doesn't like interacting with men—not even with his fathers—so the lady of the household takes care of him. She washes him, chooses his clothes, and brushes his hair.
Rias is once again in front of the mirror, as he does every day since he was a young man. The face he finds in the mirror is of unequaled elegance, almost unrealistic. That's what he tells himself, but he is so used to being ugly that considering himself beautiful seems inappropriate. So he scrutinizes the tools before him—a pin, powders, something that could add beauty to this small body. Once he finds one, he applies it. And as always, the lady of the household says nothing. She is, always, silent.
As they finish the preparations, Anna, accompanied by two male servants, enters the room. One carries a large chest, the other a smaller one.
—"Rias, I had these gifts imported for you. Please, let me explain my decision," Anna says immediately.
She takes out the dresses from the larger chest. There are dresses of every color and style. Each one seems to have more aesthetic detail than Rias's entire room. But this is one more reason for Rias's face to tighten with displeasure. He detests these cultural frills. Until now, if he wore these kinds of garish things, it was because he didn't want to draw attention by opposing the culture. But this is too much. He already has too much of this garbage in his wardrobe.
So, he replies:
— "Yes, and while you're at it, buy me some miniskirts. That might be more stylish."
— "Miniskirts? Haha… why? Even we women don't wear those kinds of things anymore…"
Anna stops. A kind of realization, a revelation, strikes her mind. "What if men wore miniskirts? What if Rias wore a miniskirt?" That was the question.
She blushes first, to herself. But it's too hard to hide her flushed cheeks, so she opens the other chest, offers it to Rias, and leaves as quickly as possible.
— "What's gotten into her?" Rias wonders.
The male servant says nothing. He merely holds the chest, his eyes fixed elsewhere. Ah, yes, in their culture, servants are not allowed to look their masters in the eyes, especially men. A female servant who dares to look her master or mistress straight in the eye is a sign of confrontation. That only happens when a situation merits twice the attention.
But let's not dwell on that.
The chest is, in fact, a full makeup and glitter kit. Rias clenches his fists. He looks away in turn. He has this kind of product in his room already. But this kind of product also reminds him, each time, of the horrible face he once had. Besides, here and now, he still has no concept of a beautiful face. For him, anything that comes from him is simply ugly.
So, in total shame, he takes the chest and places it on his already-full vanity. And once he is alone, he applies the first powders with tears streaming down his face.
Rias is quietly reading a book, as usual, when his father Idris sees him and calls out:
— "Rias."
Rias turns toward his father. He is dazed, but so afraid that he approaches him.
— "Good morning, my son," Idris exclaims. "What are you reading today, my son? It looks interesting."
— "Nothing, it's a novel."
— "Ah, Prince Marius and the Goddess Inamie. I loved that book."
Rias smiled. Then, he turned to his father and asked:
— "Father?"
— "Yes, my son?"
— "... No, nothing. Sorry."
— "Don't worry. At some point or another, we men experience a certain complacency regarding our role in society."
Surprised, Rias cries out:
— "But... So... So?..."
Then Idris kneels to bring himself to his son's level. His slender waist, partly revealed by his robe, and his timid posture. His thick, untrained thighs give an illusion of curvature. His long hair betrays his sex. He looks at his son with his carefully whitened face, without extreme musculature, a bit elongated since he is a man, but well-maintained enough to deceive Rias. The pores of his skin breathe freely, without wrinkles. He is a man who takes good care of himself. Being beautiful has been his mission since he was very young. Tenderness normally escapes from his smile.
— "How do we do it? I don't know, my son. I fell in love. And I keep falling in love every day."
And Rias finds himself confused. And yet, eyes do not lie. Idris's eyes are those of someone hypnotized. Does he even see his son? No. Not really. Does a father know his son's birthday? Or his age? Or his shoe size?
Yes, the answer is no, despite this matriarchal world. Idris is in love with Diamond. He loves his son. He loves his family, but above all, he is a man who lets himself be carried away by his impulses. Who loses himself, a slave to his desires. And I don't know if we should thank this nature of man, but man obeys in this world. And man respects his wife. And he has forgotten his ego.
And without getting a satisfactory answer, Rias continues on his way, pensive as always. His eyes fixed on his book.
Idris wonders if he hasn't said something inappropriate to a child of only... He doesn't know he is seven years old, just a child in his eyes. And fortunately, the lady of the household who often takes care of Rias passes by him.
— "Sebastine?"
— "Master? What can I do for you?"
— "Will you let me know when Rias isn't feeling well, won't you? You'll always let me know?"
— "Affirmative. I will keep you informed of everything about him."
— "... He still doesn't talk to you."
— "... We don't especially need to say anything to each other. And I think the young master prefers not to be unnecessarily disturbed."
Thoughtful, Idris says to himself:
— "Of course... And do you know who does his makeup? I don't think it's you, but... Is it you? Because knowing him, none of the male servants would touch my son."
Sebastine looks at Idris for a moment, almost amused by her master's nervousness.
— "So that's why you called him over, actually?"
— "Sebastine, I need answers, not questions."
— "The young master applies the makeup himself. I thought you had taught him."
— "No, I don't even know how to hold a brush."
— "Very interesting."
— "Can you ask him? Who taught him?"
— "Sir, I seriously doubt he would say anything. We never speak to each other. I do my duty. And he does what he needs to do. It's always been like that."
— "Hm... Okay, forget it."
...
Rias settles in the garden. He looks at his book, then looks toward the large gate. Over and over again. Until carriages finally arrive. His master is accompanied by several nobles; boys his age are accompanied by their respective masters. Rias approaches. Custom dictates that the host greet the guests, and he bows his head, opening his hands as a welcome. The guests slightly incline their heads and let themselves be guided by the host.
And now, they all find themselves in the garden exchanging pleasantries. Their respective masters supervise their language and movements in order to correct their manners. Everything must resemble something civilized.
Elisabeth observes the scene. And her mother catches her by surprise.
— "This is so boring. Don't you think?"
A moment of happiness arose from the young girl's heart. A moment when she felt seen by her mother. Then, in an instant, she suddenly remembers how proud this woman was of her sister and never of her. Elisabeth resumes her morose expression.
And Diamond understands her feelings quite well. She is a mother, after all.
— "Listen, Elisabeth. I'm really overwhelmed right now, and I could really use your help if you're not doing anything."
Eli takes a moment to think, and then she asks, without fixing her gaze on Diamond:
— "I can't imagine Diamond, the Black Dragoness of the East, asking me for help."
— "Haha… I hate that nickname. I'm so weak and insufficient and… I think everyone overestimates me. They've given me an entire duchy to manage. With my sister governing at the other end of the empire."
— "Yes, but you have Anna," Eli retorts.
Because Anna seems to be a solution to everything. And Eli doesn't know that Diamond, more than anything, hates the idea of relying on Anna's shoulders.
— "What are you talking about, Eli? I am a mother. I am the head of this household. I ask Anna to act through my authority as a mother. I ask you to help me through my authority as a mother. But my authority as a mother, I have to earn it."
And then her face took on another color that Eli knows very well: powerlessness and frustration. Frustrated at being overwhelmed. Frustrated at being a background figure. Frustrated at not being up to par. Frustrated at not deserving anything at all.
But Diamond continues.
— "And never, ever, at your age—none of you are of age yet—would I let you take on such a heavy burden in my place."
— "Sorry for my insolence, Mother. How can I help you?"
Diamond looks into her daughter's eyes. And she smiles.
— "You're going to be part of the soldiers handling tax collection. As a squire knight. I would especially like you to sniff out a network that's evading taxes."
With enthusiasm, Elisabeth replies:
— "You can trust me, Mother. I'll get you your culprit."
— "I don't doubt it, my daughter. Go see Qüalt De Quaser."
— "What? We have a Quaser in our knightly order?"
— "I'm no longer a Marquise, as far as I know. And besides, we need the support of the Quasers to maintain order. Thank you for your efforts. Majiid is showing a bit of favoritism toward our clans right now."
— "That woman's charisma will never cease to amaze me."
— "You should come see her one of these days. Anyway, you have nothing more to learn from our family. You've already learned everything at such a young age."
— "Oh, we'll see about that."
And Elisabeth set off on her mission. Diamond watches her from behind. Her and her slightly lopsided walk, tired from all those intensive training sessions. But that's not all. At eleven years old, girls go through puberty. And with the amount of food she consumes during her training, and her female sex, Elisabeth has developed a physique that belies her age. Except for her older sister Anna, she looks like the oldest one. Yet her body is just better maintained compared to Anna, who sometimes forgets meals from studying so much, who forgets to train from studying so much.