In that simple rented room, life was always gray and exhausting. Until one day, a group of neatly dressed maids suddenly appeared and took him to a grand mansion in the suburbs. The butler solemnly announced: the wealthy but childless mistress had passed away. According to family tradition, the inheritance must go to the closest female blood relative. He was the only living blood relative left in the family. As long as he was willing to fully dress and live as a girl, he could inherit everything.
He agreed almost without hesitation.
In the dressing room, the maids began their meticulous work. First came the makeup: foundation turned his skin into smooth porcelain white, eyeshadow blended in soft purple and pink gradients, eyeliner gently winged upward, lashes long and curled, eyebrows shaped into soft willow leaves, blush a faint shy pink, and lips painted with a moist, tender pink. The entire makeup was delicate and sweet, adding a charming glow to his amber eyes.
His hair was dyed a dreamy pink, falling to waist length. On the left side of his head sat an ornate white lace headpiece adorned with pearls and crystals, centered with a large pink bow from which delicate pearl tassels dangled. The sides were braided into neat twists tied with pink ribbons, and the bangs were light and natural.
The outfit was even more elaborate: a lavender Gothic Lolita dress with a sleeveless top trimmed in layers of white lace frills, the chest crossed with thin straps tied into a small pink bow. The skirt consisted of tier upon tier of ruffled flounces, each edged with white lace and pink satin ribbons, and dotted with tiny pink bows along the hem. A wide pink satin sash formed a large bow at the waist, its long tails cascading down. On his legs were white lace-patterned over-the-knee stockings with pink ribbon bows at the cuffs. His feet wore a pair of light blue stiletto heels decorated with layers of blue rose blossoms, the straps tied into pretty bows at the ankles.
When everything was complete, he stood before the mirror and could hardly recognize himself—the dreamy pink hair, the delicate sweet makeup, the lavender dress with its layers of lace and fluttering bows shaping a slender, graceful figure, the white lace stockings and blue-rose heels completing the look. He radiated the sweet elegance of a noble young lady.
From that day on, he began his new life as a young mistress. The maids respectfully called him "Miss." In the mornings he had breakfast on the sunlit terrace, his pink hair swaying gently in the breeze as the dress's ruffled hem fluttered. In the afternoons he strolled through the rose garden, the blue heels clicking crisply on the stone path while the pearl headpiece sparkled in the sunlight. At night he sat by the window, gently touching the pink bows on his skirt, feeling the wonderful change brought by this gorgeous attire. The old poverty had become a distant dream; the girl in the mirror had now fully embraced her new identity.
The mansion's roses would bloom forever for him, and the sound of the fountain seemed to whisper: Welcome home, young miss.