Wysteria POV
The marble floor felt so foreign yet familiar. The chilly air in mid-autumn was nowhere to be found, repelled by the thermal stone imbued in the wall and floor.
My heels clicked like the tip of a sword on the floor, screeching and scarring when I felt annoyed.
The overly polished floor reflected the dress covering me, twinkling the pearls and jewels decorating the attire despite my appeal to appear modest.
Too much, this is too much.
I wanted to wash off the thick powder glued on my skin and the paint they used to sharpen the cheekbones and lips, but the puppy eyes maids that dressed me up had been turned on since I had been dressed up.
"Oh, My Goodness! Could there be any beauty that could fight off against yours, My Lady?" A teary-eyed maid brushed her tears away.
