Miss Witch, even if we're poor, we can't sell ourselves!

Miya sat on the floor for a while longer, until the last footsteps in the corridor disappeared into the stairwell.

She sniffed, wiped her face haphazardly with her pajama sleeve, and then slowly stood up.

My knee hurts a bit; I lunged too hard when I lunged, and now there's a faint red mark on my skin.

"...Half an hour."

Miya stood in the center of the room, looking around.

The cramped rental room, the ceiling with cracked walls, and the corner of the table piled with takeout boxes.

On the screen, the silver-haired boy's standby screen was still playing on a loop.

Miya stared at herself on the screen for a long time.

"well……"

She walked over and slammed the monitor off.

Then I looked at my own face reflected on the black screen.

Her eyes were red and swollen, her nose was bright red, and her frog-patterned pajamas were wrinkled with tears still clinging to the collar.

"...Fine, even if I get sold, I'll at least do it with some dignity."

She sighed resignedly and began to take off her pajamas.

The bathroom was a little dirtier than the last time she cleaned it, but she really didn't have time to worry about it.

The showerhead barely managed to spew out a stream of warm water. Miya stood under the showerhead, letting the water pour down on her head, her short, light golden hair sticking wetly to both sides of her cheeks.

She rinsed herself with her eyes closed for a while before she felt a little more alive.

Then she turned around and faced the bathroom mirror with a rusty edge.

Reaching out to wipe away the condensation on the mirror, a face was revealed.

Miya tilted her head.

The girl in the mirror tilted her head as well.

Her light golden short hair fell just to her shoulders, with the ends curling up slightly, as if someone had gently pinched it with their fingertips.

Wet bangs clung to her forehead, water droplets rolled down her face, lingered on her chin for a moment, and then splattered to the ground.

Her face was very small, the kind of size that makes you want to cup it in your hands.

Her skin was smooth, as if it had just been pulled out of milk, with a barely visible pinkish tint.

Her eyebrows were thin and curved, like two very faint ink marks.

The bridge of her nose isn't high, but it's small and just right, with the tip slightly upturned, giving her a somewhat stubborn look.

Her lips were still a little swollen from crying, looking pink like she had just taken a bite of watermelon.

Then there were a pair of honey-colored eyes, with red rims and water droplets clinging to their eyelashes, looking like they were about to cry at any moment.

Miya blinked at her reflection in the mirror.

The girl in the mirror blinked, her eyes reflecting the dim bathroom light, sparkling like shattered stars scattered on the floor.

Her gaze shifted downwards.

She has a petite figure, narrow shoulders, and very prominent collarbones.

Miya stared at herself in the mirror for a long time, then suddenly puffed out her cheeks.

"She's so cute!"

Her voice echoed in the cramped bathroom.

"So cute, okay! That face! That figure! Those eyes! She didn't even soften when I was crying like that, is that guy heartless?!"

She grew angrier the more she thought about it, and reached out to poke the mirror.

"What's so great about men! I drew that silver-haired guy myself! I spent hours drawing him every day! Do you think it's easy to pose in front of a screen?! It hurts my throat to have to speak so low!"

"This is what I look like! I'm so cute! Can't she just give me a break?!"

The girl in the mirror glared back at her with a look of righteous indignation.

A few seconds later, Miya's shoulders slumped.

"……never mind."

She muttered as she turned off the tap, grabbed a towel from the shelf, and began drying her hair.

"That young lady clearly has questionable taste. What silver-haired pretty boy? I'm definitely much better looking..."

Halfway through wiping, she suddenly remembered something, ran barefoot out of the bathroom, and squatted in front of the wardrobe, rummaging through it for a long time.

Then she pulled out a set of clothes.

Sailor uniform.

She bought it online last week; it has a large blue collar, a white scarf, and the skirt is just a little above the knee.

She saw that the store was having a sale and thought it was cheap, so she bought it. But after buying it, she didn't have many occasions to wear it, so she folded it up and put it at the bottom of her closet. She didn't even have time to cut off the tag.

"...That should be appropriate."

A few minutes later, Miya stood in front of the mirror and tied the scarf into a bow; the size was indeed just right.

The large blue collar accentuated her collarbones, and the white top was slightly fitted at the waist, while the hem of her skirt fluttered gently as she turned around.

She raised her arm and tucked the last strand of hair that wasn't completely dry behind her ear, then made a face at herself in the mirror.

"snort."

She nodded in satisfaction.

"She's so cute, if she still dares to be mean to me, then there's something wrong with her."

No sooner had he finished speaking than there was a knock on the door.

dong dong dong.

Miya froze for a moment.

coming.

She took a deep breath, then walked to the door and stood on tiptoe to look through the peephole.

Under the dim light of the corridor, Reminal stood there, her eyes half-closed in impatience.

"Open the door."

Reminal's voice came through the door.

Miya opened the door.

Then she looked up and met Reminal's downcast gaze.

The two stared at each other for a long time.

Miya was dressed neatly, her short, light golden hair was fluffy and soft, and the blue scarf of her sailor uniform was tied into a pretty bow below her collarbone.

Her skirt just revealed a section of her fair calves, and she wore a pair of clean leather shoes. She was completely different from the creature who had been crying with snot running down her face in her frog pajamas just ten minutes ago.

Reminal's expression didn't change, but her slightly flushed cheeks betrayed her true thoughts.

"...Are you all packed up?"

"alright."

Miya nodded obediently, then bent down and picked up a small suitcase at her feet.

Actually, she didn't have much of value. She packed two sets of clothes, and even stuffed in some bunny slippers. As for her computer and such, she figured she might as well just take them with her since she was coming back anyway.

She straightened up, about to say she could leave, when she noticed Reminal was still staring at her neck.

Miya subconsciously looked down at her collar, but didn't find anything wrong. So she looked up again and blinked in confusion.

Reminal reached out expressionlessly, her fingertips touching the edge of the bow below Miya's chin.

"It's crooked."

She said that, and then moved the bow a little to the left.

The movement was very light; the fingertips brushed against Miya's neck, like a slightly cool feather.

Miya felt goosebumps rise on that patch of skin.

"……Um."

She responded with a soft sound, though for some reason her voice was a little low.

Reminal withdrew her hand, turned and walked towards the stairwell, the hem of her dress drawing a crisp arc behind her.

"Keep up."

She said it without turning her head.

Miya followed, pulling her suitcase, her little leather shoes making a crisp clattering sound on the corridor floor.

Looking at the figure in front of her, who was more than a head taller than her, she suddenly remembered something.

When Reminal touched her bow tie just now, her fingers seemed to tremble slightly, as if she was shy.

Miya tilted her head.

Hmph, that's more like it.

Miya's lips curled up slightly, then she quickly suppressed it.

Forget it, now is not the time to be smug.

She first needs to figure out where she's being taken, what job she'll be doing, and most importantly, whether she can survive.