I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
I had the same ocean-blue eyes and the same sharp jawline, along with that long white hair that still caught me off guard every time I caught my own reflection. Yet, the person standing before me in the glass looked entirely different.
I looked cleaner, sharper, as if someone had taken the tired, blood-soaked version of me that had crawled out of the Sealed Valley and meticulously polished every rough edge until something almost respectable emerged.
"If a great swordmaster's real test is surviving a battle, then a noble's real test is getting out of a fancy suit alive," I muttered.
[That is not a real proverb, Host.]
It is now.
I had spent the better part of an hour getting ready, but not because I was dirty. The exam filth had been washed away days ago. No, the time was wasted on stupid things — trying to get my long hair to sit right.
"...I really need to cut them short."
