The Queen’s Cosmetician

I put down a cosmetic brush.

"Done"

Die gave the woman a hand mirror. What do you say, and I tilt my neck. When the woman peered into the polished silver, she made her smile satisfied.

"Nice. Must be the highlight, Die"

Thank you, and she will whisper loudly on this cheek. Die accidentally became sinister.

"Red, you have to repaint it."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Die lifted the lady's lips gently as she apologized. Take the brush again and carefully edge its well-shaped lips in red. Then from the women who waited in the same room for the order, a shuddering voice rose.

"Hey sister! Think and act a little more! We've been waiting!

"Me next! Because it's me!

"Don't wait any longer, you guys. Do it yourself!

"Even my sister!

Die accidentally zeroed his grin as he stared at the noisy women.

The bright, bustling women of the famous whorehouse in Wangdu. To their lack of submission, I am always saved.

Die wiped the red of the cosmetic brush with a cloth. He tried to speak to the woman waiting for the order, but his mouth was spinning the name of the woman who would lift up the door cloth and enter the room.

"Asma?"

The woman exposing herself to the abundance of physical beauty pinched the flue pipe that was on her finger, distorting her red painted large lip and inviting the die to her hand.

"Sorry, Die. Can you come here for a second? You're a customer."

It was not the die who reacted to Asma's words. I was waiting for makeup in my room, the women.

"Yep! There's no such thing!

"We've been waiting in order!

Asma drank the women who raised their voices of accusation that it was terrible.

"Shut up! You just have to go with Atashi!

With her hands on her hips and her ghostly shapes intimidating her, the women begin to sit down in front of the vanity. Confirming the women starting to borrow powdered white flour, Die quickly stood up packed with tools and left the room about Asma.

"Oh Die, are you done with the Emils? Then come here."

"Die, die, if you've got time, why don't you come to Atashi's room?

"Sometimes it's not just your face, it's cute over there too? Hey, Die."

Sometimes it's unusual, Die thought, as he politely declined invitations from the door of the room, from the soft body that drifts and the sweet fragrance that drifts.

They interrupt my work during this busy opening and rush me under a Guest who seems to have visited me. True, rare. If you're a boring guest, Asma should push you back to change the day again or make you wait until dawn after work. Even though she is allowed to.

The mistress runs a number of whorehouses in the flower district of Wangdu. That's Asma.

Die was one of the cosmeticians employed by her.

Basically exclusive to Asma's Hall, but rarely called to work in an approximate Hall. Perhaps there was a request for that hand, and the die was called in.

Die inquired on the beautiful back of her mistress.

"What kind of request is it from someone in the hall?

The owner of the whorehouse after Asma, Le Grand or Grand Hoppe?

I think of a bald-headed, magnificent man or a businessman who is still young but a doer. But the answer that came from Asma, who stopped, was truly unexpected.

"Dear nobleman,

"... kizuku?

"Yes."

Asma frowned when she said she was in trouble and resumed her steps.

"Precisely, noble penance, something like that"

"That's your first time."

"Yes. Where have you been sniffing rumors from? Mostly, I choose a makeup artist at the end of the day. Most of them look like samurai or something."

There won't be noble women who want to touch their faces on the flower streets.

This request from a guest seems to be unsatisfactory. Asma looks grumpy.

Asma led the die ahead in front of her work room. It's the finest room in this hall. None of us get in without Asma's permission.

"Excuse me. You kept me waiting."

Push open the lightly tapped door and Asma spins a cat stroke. I fully understood that he was a really good customer.

A man rises from his bench and turns back to the Dies.

He was a beautiful man. Die accidentally stopped at the entrance to the room and stared seriously at the guest.

A young man. Something like early twenties when I was a year old? Clear Ethereal eyes reminiscent of the Ethereal Dome in a short, rusty blonde hair. Female face loser, fine ivory coloured skin.

Though feminine elegance is wrapped around the atmosphere, the body, with its pinned spine extension, belongs to a man who is far from musculoskeletal but wide in shoulders and well aligned. He was a man of pitiful beauty that even aristocratic guests could hardly see.

I want to see that face.

It was the mastery of working patterns that made me observe people's faces, but it was also the first time I had turned an indiscreet gaze at the first person I met. By the way, the sentiments I have are strange. But the other guy didn't even look offended by Die's gaze, he just smiled and tilted his neck small.

"Die, come here"

Asma, who was moving to face the man at some point, is inviting a die in her hand. Die returned to me, closing the door and walking over.

"This one?

"Yeah, he's the smartest makeup artist in my hall."

Asma first agreed with the man and put warm hands on the back of the die.

"Die, this is Master Liveau. This time, you know the Mizwieri family, the home of Mariaj, who was elected Queen's candidate? As a favor, you're here today."

(Queen's candidate?

Die looks up at Asma in surprise.

She pushed the back of the die to encourage her to take a seat.

Waiting until the man and the die sat on the bench, Asma continued the conversation looking down at the die with a soft eye.

"The Queen's electorate has finally begun, right? Though it seemed difficult to select a queen."

"What the hell does that story have to do with me?

The spinning voice was plunging to surprise. To the strangled question, Livot, the man called, answers on behalf of Asma.

"I would like to welcome you as Mariage's makeup artist."

With that arm of yours, I ask you to queen our Lord, "he said.

Now it's time for Die to be out of line. I thought I saw the reason for Asma's bad tooth cut here. If she thinks she's a nobleman, a junior, often intermediate nobleman, a hell of a guest has arrived.

Die is not familiar with aristocratic houses. Still, I knew about the house that sent the girls out to the queen's electorate this time. It is the five houses of Karsun, Bethleim, Whistlewism, and Mizwilli, headed by relatives of the previous Queen, the Gertrude family. Mizweeri's name is hardly familiar to my ears, but it's a house that sends out a candidate for queen. Must be a senior aristocrat.

From such a house, and by virtue of it, make the face of the queen candidate, etc.

This, to the face master at the end of the place.

"Isn't that some kind of joke?

Even if it was a joke, there would be no man to answer honestly. Still, Die couldn't help but ask.

Not all nobles make fun of Shirai. The women of Flower Street are at the head of the arrow. Sometimes the aristocratic man who was supposed to have spoken of love was actually just hanging money within his peers to see if he could simply drop the woman. Die wouldn't be surprised if there were a nobleman who heard this rumor because of something and even thought to set up a prank.

"Why should I go to a place like this on purpose, with a joke or something?

Die was convinced that he looked down on this place of a man who would be living in the upper class. A man is obviously not a younger man or something. Asma said it was from the Mizweeri family, but the man himself would also be of aristocratic origin. I can see the beauty and elegance of growing up. Such a man comes all the way to visit a makeup artist, not to buy a woman. To do it with a joke, it seemed like too much trouble.

"From"

"I got confirmation."

Asma responded to the sigh mix before the die spoke to everyone about the question.

"Surely this one must be the one who serves the Mizwieri family"

"... really take me, as a makeup artist?

"Yes."

The man nodded loudly.

Sounds serious.

Seriously, man - no, the Mizwieri family wants to hire themselves in.

Die looked up at Asma bewildered. The story the man brought in was too big for the die.

I saw no sign of trying to advise Asma. He has his arms around him with a difficult look on his face, pulling his mouth together. He's going to leave all the judgment to the die.

Die sighed and turned to the man.

"Assuming I take the job… is that temporary? It's like doing it in parallel with this job…"

Is it the kind of work that we are taking on, such as traveling?

The man shook his head to the side.

"When you decide to serve us, you will come to the Mansion. So you're going to be a Mizweeri family obedient. Let us promise you that we will have the right room, a life without liberty and an adequate salary."

A tone without saying yes or no. Even though it was in the expected range, Die clouded his expression.

Come to think of it, they're senior aristocrats. I could tell Die to say a word, come, but at the point of giving him room for choice, he's also quite conceded.

But sometimes it looks like you're letting it make a choice and you don't actually have the right to veto.

"If I say no, will it bother the Asmas?

"Yep. When you refuse, unfortunately, you just hit the other makeup artists."

From the gentle tone, the intention was drawn that there would really be no handouts for the Asmas. Most of all, if I were to get my hands on Asma, I would suffer some pain in the hands of any Mizwieri family. Even more so if your daughter is being elected as a candidate for queen. In order to be elected queen, the support of intermediate and lower nobles becomes essential, but the guests of the Asma Hall have many who succeed those housekeepers. The Flower Street women also squeeze many of their doorstep secrets into their hands.

Still, in case, the man made a small laugh at the die guiding the impact on the flower district.

"Right now, you don't have to get a response. I'll come back later."

I imitate the man who says so and gets up, Die hurries up his hips.

The man politely thanked him.

"Sorry to bother you while you're at work"

I had no idea the noblemen would bow their heads. Die panicked and drooled his head, speaking of which, he called out to the man.

"Excuse me, you know"

"... something?

The man is about to leave his reception seat.

Turning before him, Die inquired.

"Can you come again?

"Yep. I am responsible for this negotiation."

There won't be anyone else coming, the man says.

If so.

"... can you tell me your name, again?

Even though we were introduced by Asma, we haven't named each other yet. For that reason, or the man's name has already begun to fade in the memory of the die.

"Yes, you did."

The man nods as convinced and offers his right hand. Wiping his hands with his clothes and touching the man's hands with fear, Die named him.

"Die."

He gently holds this hand back and smiles.

"My name is Heath Livort"

The man's hands were cold as if to sting his skin.

It was last year.

The princess and queen died suddenly to keep standing. That meant the loss of a lord and heir to the throne from this country.

Five queen candidates from senior aristocracy shall be made, according to custom, for the fold over which the queen's inheritance has ceased. They are now in the middle of a Queen's Election Rite to contend for the throne. But it was supposed to have less to do with the die.

The die was kept in Asma's room as it was after a man named Mizweeri's family returned. Today, I'm not at work anymore.

Die sat in his bench and followed Asma's movements with his eyes.

Asma asks the die as she removes the bottle of wine from the cupboard.

"Are you going to say no?

"... right. If it doesn't bother you."

Whatever you think, it's a frigid story. Make the face of the queen candidate, etc.

I heard you on the road leading me to this room, and I know exactly what Asma's whining means.

Die is the face master of the flower district. All die opponents wear dances, musical instruments and poetry, and talkative, super-class geishas. But on the other hand, it does not change that she is a woman who adores spring. A makeup artist who has worked on the faces of the most disgusting women of all noble daughters is a die.

I don't think I would allow a daughter of such a senior aristocracy as to be elected Queen's candidate to touch a die. There was something behind it and it was natural.

I don't want to jump into that place myself.

"I knew it."

Asma, with two glasses in her hand, put a bottle of wine on the table and smiled.

"Even as a rat, it's caught. I wonder why you bothered to come looking for a facialist in Hanayashi at the end of the day."

Asma slammed her hips abusively on the bench and exposed her long legs at all costs to reassemble. Defeat your torso forward and place the two cups on the table. The curves of her body twist gracefully. White, long fingers often appeared in rugged cups.

Asma was once a geisha who captivated those other men by his beauty and his unpolished body, his arts, and his never-ending art of speaking. She was also the one who tried to make the women hissing the spring of the flower city call themselves geishas, not whores. It is admired not only by its guests, but also by the merchants of the same flower streets and the women of the hall, due to its breeze and care.

It's been a long time since I turned to the proprietor, but every single thing Asma does is still glossy.

Wine is poured into both cups.

"Asma. The alcohol..."

"You'll be fifteen already. You have to drink as much as you can.... Well, no one's going to think you're that old."

Pointed out by Asma, Die saw himself on the surface of the wine. A small, thin body is there for the year. You look pretty young, too.

The mother of Die, already deceased, was a legendary, unpretentious prostitute in the flower district.

The appearance that darkened her shadow was obscuring the gender of the die.

"Why didn't Asma say no?

"The other side is a great nobleman. I can't chase you back as much as I want without letting you see me."

"But that won't be all, Asma. I know that even if I can't chase you back, there's just so much to it. Still brought this story to me..."

Is there a reason for this?

My mistress gave me zero sighs about Die's silent inquiry.

"It's frigid, but I thought if it really purely offered you a place to wave your arms, it would be a wish or a fulfillment"

Asma rocked the wine gently in the glass. A thickened Shizukuishi, also known as the Angel's Feet, creates muscle in the cup.

"You're really good at it. Without a scratch, I think you do. The best of Atashi's halls, no, the best of this flower district. That's why even my fellow husbands speak up to you. It's only fifteen yet."

Asma stares at the die softly and narrowly. I guess it's always the child's self in her pale brown eyes.

But it's already fifteen.

Asma tightens her voice and wrinkles between her eyebrows.

"There's something about you. If we can get out of this florist soon, we've never been over it."

To the die who has been silenced, the lady husband of this hall says with a gentle grin.

"That Jen will come again, won't he? Look at the crowd, listen, think and decide, Die."

Like, I had to snort at Asma just in case.

Having lost my mother as a child, I was raised in a whorehouse. large numbers of geishas, and by the hands of this Asma who replaced his mother.

I don't want to leave here.

But as soon as possible, Die had a situation to get out of this flower district.

If you can truly work as a makeup artist with the back shield of a nobleman, it is an unparalleled condition for a die.

Die took the wine placed on the table. I put my mouth on it. That just left the odd bitterness at the tip of my tongue.