Chapter 9

The sun rises over Forget-Me-Not Valley, casting a warm glow over the farm. Mark's day begins with his familiar routines – tending to crops, caring for the livestock, and nurturing the trees. He works with a sense of purpose, the rhythm of the farm grounding him in the present moment. The rustling leaves and distant chirping of birds provide the soundtrack to his labor.

As the hours pass, Mark's thoughts drift to Keira. He wonders how she's spending her day – whether she's engrossed in one of her television shows or eating curry again. The simple tasks on the farm keep him occupied, but a lingering curiosity nag at his mind.

By midday, the farm is alive with the symphony of farm life. Cows moo, chickens cluck, sheep bleats, and the scent of earth hangs in the air. Mark's hands bear the marks of his work, and his heart swells with contentment. Yet, a nagging thought persists – he hasn't seen Keira all day.

A sense of curiosity prickles at the edges of Mark's thoughts. He steps inside the house, searching for any sign of his wife. The aroma of freshly cooked curry from this morning lingers, a reminder that Keira was here not long ago. But now, she's nowhere to be found.

"Keira?" Mark's voice carries the house.

“I’m in my room,” she answers.

A hint of concern tinges his thoughts as he wonders why is Keira in her room around this time. His imagination begins to weave scenarios – maybe she's feeling unwell, seeking solace beneath the sheets of their bed. The mere idea sends a pang of worry through him. Quietly, he approaches the door to Keira's bedroom. A gentle knock is his attempt to bridge the space between them. "Come in," her voice, soft and steady, answers from within.

Pushing the door ajar, Mark's anticipation transforms into astonishment. He freezes, his eyes absorbing the scene before him, an unexpected tableau that unravels his earlier assumptions. Keira is kneeling on the floor, her robe laying on the floor, a brush clutched in her hand scrubbing away any dirt. The delicate curve of her neck and shoulders gleams with the evidence of her efforts – beads of moisture and flecks of dirt. Her white under robe, slightly damp, hangs nearby, clearly hand washed recently.

Caught off-guard, Mark can't help but gape, his eyes tracing the contours of her silhouette. Keira's focused industry is a sight to beholds. Her long black hair cascades like a waterfall over her body, concealing and revealing in the same breath. She turns to him, her gaze meeting his, "is everything okay?"

Mark quickly shuts the door saying, “I’m sorry! I swear, I didn’t see anything! I’ll come back later!”

Mark swiftly steps out of the house, a rush of air and emotions accompanying him into the embrace of the farm. His hands instinctively delve into his chores, attempting to ground himself amidst the scattered thoughts that dance around in his head. Despite his best efforts to concentrate on the tasks at hand, his mind remains stubbornly fixated on the image of Keira – her silhouette framed by her ardent endeavor, the curve of her form vivid against the backdrop of his imagination.

The juxtaposition of his farm duties and his thoughts is stark – the mundane and the unexpected converging in a way that leaves him oddly disoriented. This is the first time he's glimpsed Keira in such an intimate context, and the memory lingers, punctuating his work with moments of distraction.

He constantly slaps the side of his head, desperately trying to remove the thoughts of what he saw. His hands, accustomed to the rhythm of farm life, now seem to move in synchrony with the beating of his heart. Each furrow he tills and every seed he sows are imbued with a layer of contemplation. He's drawn into a quiet reverie, pondering the implications of that unexpected encounter.

The sun arcs its way across the sky, casting long shadows as Mark works through the afternoon. With each task he completes, he finds himself one step closer to the moment when he can return home and face the uncertainties that have taken root in his thoughts. He begins to wonder what may be going on in the house right now. Perhaps Keira is upset with him, feeling betrayed that the line between them has been crossed. He reminds himself that she is a princess, and her body must be too sacred for commoners like him to view.

As the sun begins its descent, Mark finally wraps up his chores, his hands bearing the testimony of his labor. He heads back to the house, his anticipation building with each step. The walk that is usually familiar now carries an undercurrent of apprehension. He wonders why would Keira invite him to her bedroom if she knew her situation was compromised?

As he approaches the house, he takes a deep breath; whatever consequences awaits him on the other side. He pushes open the door, entering the space that holds both his fate in the hands of the young princess inside. Keira is there, her presence like a gentle current in the room watching TV. Mark meets her gaze, his eyes seeking reassurance, understanding, and perhaps an answer to the questions that have been swirling in his mind. "Hey," he says softly, his voice a blend of curiosity and concern.

Keira looks up from what she's doing, her expression feels surprisingly calm. She smiles, a glint of humor in her eyes as she stands and walks up to him and greets, "welcome home, Mark. Finished with your duties around the farm?"

He remains quiet, a subtle tension threading through the air like a silent current. Mark's heart beats a little faster, his thoughts churning with a mix of uncertainty and determination. He watches Keira, her every gesture and expression a canvas of emotions he wishes he could decipher more easily. Rather than say anything that could potentially disrupt the delicate equilibrium between them, he decides to let actions speak in his stead.

With a gentle yet deliberate resolve, they move together to the heart of their home – the kitchen. Mark's hands move deftly, guided by the muscle memory of preparing the curry she enjoys. He occasionally steals glances at Keira, his gaze both cautious and tender wondering how she’s feeling. As the aroma of the meal begins to permeate the air, Mark's shoulders loosen slightly. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He wants nothing more than to keep Keira happy, to smooth over the edges of the confusion that had crept into their world earlier.

After placing a hot steaming plate of curry on the table, Mark takes a seat. After taking a deep breath, he says, “listen Keira, I’m sorry about what happened earlier.”

“I don’t understand. What are you apologizing for?” she asks.

Mark’s cheeks turn red as he admits, “well, I walked in on you while you were. . . Undressed.”

“I don’t see why that is an issue,” answers Keira. “You are my husband, seeing me that way is quite normal.”

Mark's heart quickens, and he feels a mixture of embarrassment and surprise flood his senses. How could he have forgotten that he is, in fact, married to Keira? The realization lands on him like a ton of bricks, shattering his train of thought and causing his words to trip over themselves in a jumbled mess.

"Keira, I... uh, I mean, it's just that... well, you see..." He stammers, his attempts at explanation only seeming to make things worse. He rubs the back of his neck in a nervous gesture, his gaze darting around the room as if searching for the right words to untangle the situation.

But no matter how hard he tries, his words only become more knotted, each sentence more tangled than the last. It's as if his thoughts have become a chaotic whirlwind, and he can't seem to find a way out of the verbal labyrinth he's stumbled into.

Frustration paints his features, mixing with his embarrassment, and he finally releases a sigh of exasperation. "You know what? You're right. I have no idea what I was thinking," he admits.

“If you were any other man, I would be in trouble,” she continues.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks.

Keira's actions startle Mark, his eyes widening in disbelief as she pulls a knife from her robe and unsheathes it. His heart races, his mind racing with concern over what she intends to do. The sight of the blade being pointed towards her chest sends shockwaves of alarm through him.

His voice trembles with a mixture of shock and fear as he blurts out, "Keira, what are you doing?"

“If another man would see me undressed, I would have no choice but to thrust my blade into my heart and twist. That way, I could have a quick and painless death.”

"You would actually do that?!" he shouts.

"Without a moment's hesitation."

Mark's mind races, struggling to comprehend the gravity of her words. He can't fathom the idea that she would be willing to end her own life over something so unthinkable. "But why?" His voice cracks with emotion, his eyes pleading for an answer that might shed light on her perspective.

As Keira resheathes her blade and puts it away, her tone remains firm but tinged with a solemn heaviness. "My mother taught me that it is better to die pure than to allow bandits to have their way with me. It is the way of the Hanabishi Clan."

Mark's thoughts whirl as he listens to her words. He can't help but feel a surge of empathy for the weight of her cultural upbringing, the traditions that have shaped her view of honor and dignity. He understands that her actions are born from a place of deep conviction, but he's now acutely aware of the potential danger and harm she could bring upon herself if he is not careful.

He then remembers that time when Keira pulled out that very knife at Doctor Hardy. He now understands that Keira must have thought that Hardy was trying to undress her. She pulled the knife out to defend herself as if it were a choice to take his life or take her own. He is glad that Keira can communicate with the world around her to know that nobody is trying to harm her.

After taking a breath of relief, he says, “well, I’m glad that nobody has to worry about that around here. But still, what were you doing in your room anyway?”

“My robe and hitoe were soiled, so I had to wash them.”

“Why were you doing that by hand? We have a washing machine you know. I did teach you how to use it.”

“I am aware that you did, but I cannot wash my garments that way.”

“Why?” Mark asked curiously.

Keira caresses her robe as she explains, “my robe is made of fine silks and cotton. It is quite delicate and must be cleaned by hand and quickly air dried. There is also a layer of chain mail that protects me in the event of an invasion of enemy kingdoms, and water will rust it and ruin my clothing. My hitoe is made from silk from the finest silkworms, which makes it light and absorbs sweat and oils off my body and keeps it off my robe.”

“No wonder she is so heavy,” Mark thought to himself. “She isn’t wearing clothing, she’s wearing armor! I am quite impressed that she can walk around in that and not complain. How strong is she anyway?”

After taking a moment to process her words, he asks, “Why aren’t you wearing underwear while you clean your clothes?”

“What’s underwear?” Keira curiously asks.

Mark’s face turns blue as he says, “never mind. That’s too embarrassing to explain.” Mark continues, “what about changing your clothes while you clean your robe?”

“I would, but the rest of my clothing are in the mines.”

Mark's cheeks flush with intense embarrassment as the gravity of the situation sinks in. His realization is like a heavy weight dropping into the pit of his stomach. Keira doesn't have any spare clothing. The truth strikes him with a force that leaves him momentarily stunned.

His mind races back to the time when the room Keira once occupied had collapsed. The memories are a mix of panic and chaos, the walls crumbling, the ceiling giving way, and Keira's room being swallowed by the earth. The room, the furniture, and everything in it were reduced to debris and rubble. He berates himself internally, wondering how he could have overlooked such a basic necessity—getting Keira new clothing to replace what was lost.

A heavy sigh escapes him, a mixture of self-reproach and concern for Keira's well-being. He runs a hand through his hair, frustration mingling with his embarrassment. "Of all the things to forget," he mutters to himself in exasperation.

“If clothing is such a concern, we can visit a tailor to have new ones made for me,” suggested Keira.

Mark crosses his arms and says, “it’s not that easy. We don’t go to a tailor to get clothes anymore; we buy them from a store. The closest clothing store is at the city. But I don’t know how well you’ll be able to handle walking around the city with so many people running around. There could be thousands crammed together in one place.”

Keira's mind contemplates the idea of navigating through a place bustling with a multitude of people. The mere recollection of being surrounded by five unfamiliar individuals had stirred up anxiety within her, but the thought of dealing with thousands of strangers on an even grander scale is an entirely different kind of stress.

As she envisions the scenario, her mind conjures up an overwhelming panorama of faces, each one foreign and unfamiliar. The diversity of clothing styles bewilders her imagination, making her realize that understanding the significance of those attires might be an insurmountable challenge. The imagined symphony of voices, each speaking over each other like the shows in the television, merges into an unintelligible cacophony that drowns her senses.

It's a sensory overload that she can hardly fathom, let alone endure. The thought of being engulfed in such an immense crowd, lost amidst the sea of unknown faces, is enough to tighten her chest with trepidation. The idea itself is daunting, a colossal tidal wave of anxiety threatening to consume her.

Mark, observing her closely, discerns the shift in her expressions. He's aware of the turmoil churning within her mind as she grapples with the sheer magnitude of this hypothetical scenario. He's attuned to the nuances of her emotions, and as he watches her, he perceives the waves of apprehension crashing against the shores of her thoughts.

"I guess I was right, heading to the city isn't such a great plan," Mark admits. He closes his eyes, his mind whirring with determination to find a solution. There must be a way to help Keira acquire new clothing without subjecting her to an environment that could potentially terrify her.

In the quiet of introspection, Mark's thoughts dance like puzzle pieces seeking alignment. He's well aware of distant villages with tailors, like the ones in Waffle Town. But the prospect of such a journey feels like overkill for a simple shopping endeavor. The logistical complexities of measuring Keira for custom-fit clothes add another layer of challenge – it would entail either an extended stay or multiple trips.

An idea starts to crystallize in Mark's mind, and a spark of hope brightens his features. He recalls his friend Muffy, someone who is from the city just like him and has a knack for shopping. Whenever he needed clothing, he'd often relied on Muffy's advice. She could be the key to untangling this dilemma.

With a newfound sense of purpose, Mark turns to Keira, suggesting, "let's pay a visit to the Blue Bar. Muffy might have some ideas on how to tackle this." Keira's agreement resonates as they set off together to seek Muffy's counsel.

Upon entering the Blue Bar, they're greeted by Muffy's familiar smile. Mark's heart warms at the sight of his friend, yet his cheeks flush with embarrassment and anxiety as Muffy learns about the incident that led to Keira's current clothing conundrum.

Muffy's slaps Mark in the back of his head. "Oh, Mark, you always manage to find yourself in the weirdest situations, don't you? First you get married to a princess, then you wait this long to get new clothes for her? What’s wrong with you?" She then turns her attention to Keira, a warm and genuine smile replacing her annoyance with Mark. "Hello, Keira. I'm glad you're here. Don’t mind your husband, he’s a bit of an airhead."

Muffy steps closer to Keira, her curiosity and determination evident in her demeanor. She gazes at Keira thoughtfully, her eyes scanning her frame as if calculating dimensions. After a few cautious orbits, Muffy's expression shifts into one of bemusement. "I have to admit, this is a tad trickier than I thought. That robe of yours is quite roomy, and I'm having a hard time getting a clear sense of your figure."

A lightbulb of an idea seems to flicker in Muffy's mind. She reaches out holds a hand full of Keira's long, dark hair. "You know, Keira, your hair is remarkably long. Have you ever considered getting a haircut? It might make things easier when it comes to choosing clothes properly."

Keira's reaction is swift and almost instinctual. Her eyes widen, and she takes back her hair and holds it as if it's a precious treasure. "No, no, I could never cut my hair," she responds with a touch of alarm. Her voice holds firm. "Long hair is an age-old tradition among the Hanabishi royal family. I would lose my title as princess and queen if it were to be cut."

“I hate to break it to you Keira, but royalty isn’t really a thing anymore. Can you really call yourself a princess or queen without a castle?” asked Muffy.

“That is not true! Under Hanabishi law, a king is defined as a man who own land and rules over his subjects. Mark owns his farm, and his farm animals are his subjects. It is a stretch, but it still counts! As Mark is king of his farm, I am thus considered queen of his farm as well.”

Muffy sighs, “fine, I understand. But your hair is so long, that it drags on the ground. Aren’t you worried about split ends, or something getting caught in it?”

“Oh, I am not worried about that,” said Keira confidently. “Back in my time in the castle, my mother would share her hair lotion with me that she gets from the royal apothecary. The lotion keeps our hair healthy and strong. Nothing gets tangled as long as we care for our hair. Of course, we no longer have an apothecary anymore, but thanks to modern conveniences, we found a solution.”

Keira then pulls a bottle of hair oil out of her robe and lifts it in the air as if it were a trophy. “I have this special blend of oil that I brush into my hair every morning! The mixture of oils and herbs keep my hair healthy just as it did before. Shipping and handling is included.”

“Let me guess, the shopping channel?” Muffy asks as she giggles from Keira’s performance.

“Yep. She sure loves TV. I’m glad she has a job now, she can buy whatever she wants,” answers Mark.

“Okay Keira, tell me, what kind of clothes do you like?” asked Muffy.

Keira takes a moment to think, then answers, “well, I would like to have a jūnihiote, something that would match my hair color would be nice. Underneath, I would like a bright colored hitoe. Oh, we can’t forget to get a good obi to hold everything together.”

Muffy chuckles nervously before answering, “yeah, I’m sorry. I have no idea what any of those things are.”

Keira sighs, “it’s fine. They probably don’t make them anymore anyway. I would even settle for a nice kimono right now.”

“Oh, a kimono! I know what that is! The people of the eastern villages wear them sometimes,” said Muffy.

“You think you can get one?” asked Mark.

“Well, it’s not that easy. They only use them for special occasions, like festivals and such. It’s a very expensive piece of traditional clothing, just one can cost you a whole season’s salary,” explained Muffy.

“Oh wow, I don’t think any of us can afford something like that,” said Mark.

“Don’t sweat it. Now that I have an idea what kind of clothes Keira needs, it’s time for the next step.” Muffy then takes Keira’s hand and continues, “come on Keira, let’s go to my room, and I’ll measure you up.”

Keira's gaze shifts to Mark, unsure if she should be separated from him. She's caught in a moment of decision, wondering whether to proceed with Muffy's lead. Mark senses her hesitation and offers a reassuring smile, his voice carrying a soothing tone. "Keira, you can trust Muffy. She's a good friend, and she'll do her best to help us figure this out."

Relieved by his words, Keira nods and gives a small, appreciative smile. With Mark's encouragement, she takes a step forward, mentally preparing herself for what lies ahead. Muffy leads the way to her bedroom, a space that's both cozy and filled with Muffy's vibrant personality. The shelves are adorned with decorations and personal mementos, creating an inviting atmosphere.

As Keira enters the room, she notices a nightstand covered with colorful fabrics and measuring tools. Some of Muffy's bedroom seems to have transformed into a makeshift tailor's workshop, a hobby that helps Muffy find suitable clothing during the changes of her body because of her pregnancy. With a reassuring gesture, Muffy motions for Keira to stand in the center of the room. "Alright, Keira, let's get started. I promise, this will be painless."

With Mark waiting in the main area of the Blue Bar, he finds a moment of respite. Since he met Keira, there has been a whirlwind of emotions and unexpected challenges. He takes a seat on one of the chairs, the worn wood creaking softly beneath him. Mark finds himself enveloped in a rare moment of quiet, one he hasn’t seen since he met Keira. He closes his eyes briefly, allowing the tension he hadn't realized he was holding to slowly release.

This breather offers Mark a chance to reflect on the journey he and Keira have embarked on together. From the moment he found her in the mines to now, navigating cultural differences and uncertainties, Mark realizes how much he's come to care for Keira. He can't help but smile as he envisions a future where they overcome challenges hand in hand. The thought of Keira finding her place in this new world fills him with hope and a sense of purpose.

“Why must I undress?” asked the voice of Keira which can be heard clearly through the walls.

“Don’t be nervous. We’re both girls here, so there’s no need to be shy,” said Muffy.

“Very well.”

Mark looks to Muffy’s bedroom door and whispers, “I know I’m married to Keira, but am I allowed to hear all this? And does Muffy know I can hear everything through her paper-thin walls?”

“Oh my, Keira! Where is your underwear?”

“What is this ‘underwear’ people keep asking about?”

“Never mind, I’ll just add that to the shopping list. I would lend you some of mine, but you are so petite, they won’t fit. Raise your arms, I need to measure your bust and hips to get the best fit for you.”

Amidst the sounds of measuring tape and soft conversation coming from Muffy's bedroom, Mark finds himself in a somewhat awkward position. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, grateful that the bar is empty, sparing him from curious gazes or embarrassing attention. He can't help but feel a mix of emotions – relief, curiosity, and a touch of unease.

Mark's thoughts drift to the scene unfolding just beyond the wall. The idea of two women, including his wife Keira, being so close yet separated only by a thin wall makes his mind wander into an unintended realm of imagination. He feels a slight heat creeping up his cheeks as his thoughts inadvertently take a more suggestive turn.

Mark's attention shifts as he hears Muffy's voice coming from the bedroom. He blinks, realizing that the conversation between Keira and Muffy has taken a more personal turn. He shifts slightly in his seat, a mix of curiosity and a hint of embarrassment washing over him.

“You know Keira, I’m a bit jealous. You are so thin and pretty, and I feel like a cow carrying this baby. I can't help but envy how effortlessly graceful you are. And Mark is a lucky man to have such a beautiful wife like you."

“Please hurry,” said Keira, a hint of discomfort in her voice.

“We’re almost done, just need to measure your thighs to make sure what I get will fit you perfectly.”

“Come on Muffy, I don’t know how much more can I take,” whispered Mark.

After a few seconds, Muffy shouts, “Keira! I can’t believe you are still a virgin!”

Mark's face flushes a deep shade of red as he processes Muffy's words. His mind races, caught between embarrassment and a flustered curiosity. What exactly could Muffy have seen that would lead her to make such a comment? He is glad that nobody else came into the bar to have a drink, otherwise the embarrassment would be unbearable.

His hand instinctively moves to his nose as he feels a sudden warmth. He's not sure when it started, but his nose is bleeding slightly, a physical reaction to the sudden rush of emotions and thoughts that have overtaken him. He's grateful for the distraction as he pinches his nose, hoping to stop the bleeding before it becomes more noticeable.

After a few minutes, Keira steps out of Muffy's room, her face carrying a noticeable hue of embarrassment. The encounter with Muffy, albeit necessary, had clearly left her flustered. She casts a curious glance at Mark, whose own cheeks are tinged with a matching shade of red. The synchronized blushing doesn't escape her notice, and she finds herself wondering about the source of his embarrassment. Was it something related to their earlier conversation? Or perhaps something else entirely?

Muffy follows Keira out of the room, her cheerful demeanor unchanged. "Okay, I have all the measurements I need. I'll find some good clothing for Keira, no problem." Her eyes shift between Keira and Mark, and a mischievous smile tugs at her lips. "Look at you two, like two peas in a pod. I guess being married does that to a couple."

Mark holds Keira's hand as he guides her towards the exit of the bar as quickly as he can. The prospect of leaving Muffy's presence is a welcome one, as it allows them to retreat from the good-humored teasing that had caught them both off guard. Yet, just as they're about to make their exit, Muffy's voice rings out, effectively halting Mark in his tracks. He turns back, eyebrows slightly raised, uncertain about what Muffy might have to add.

Her mischievous wink catches him by surprise, leaving a fresh dusting of embarrassment on his cheeks. "Get busy, will you?" Muffy's playful words hang in the air like a final tease. With that, Mark rushes out before Keira even has a chance to ask what did she mean by that.

A few days later Muffy arrives at the farm carrying three garment packages. She places them on the table and grabs the first one, then handing it to Keira. “I picked this outfit especially for you. I think you’ll look great in it.”

After expressing her gratitude to Muffy, Keira gingerly places the package on a nearby surface and carefully unwraps it. Her eyes widen in surprise as she pulls out the dress nestled within. The sky blue fabric shimmers in the light, reminiscent of the vivid expanse above. Keira runs her fingers over the material, entranced by its soft texture. The dress itself is unlike anything she's encountered before. There is also a pair of flats in the box that matches the dress. Its design feels almost otherworldly, akin to the attire worn by characters in the fairy tales she's seen on TV. The dress boasts short, puffy sleeves that gather around her shoulders, evoking an air of whimsical elegance. The hemline falls just above her knees, a departure from the traditional robes she's accustomed to.

“What is this?” Keira asks.

Muffy explains, “it’s a western dress similar to something I would wear. It has a little princess flair to it, like the old movies I used to watch. I didn’t want to buy you heels, since I am sure you don’t know how to wear them yet. I think the color would make your hair stand out too. What do you think?”

Keira sighs, “I’m sorry. It is beautiful, but I cannot wear this. No other man may look at my body, and this shows too much.”

Muffy's mischievous smile widens, “I figured as much. I still want you to hold on to that dress, but I also had a plan B.” She seems eager to reveal what she has in store as a backup plan. Muffy reaches for the second box and hands it over to Keira, her anticipation palpable.

Keira accepts the box with curiosity. Placing it down with gentle care, she opens it wondering what other outfit Muffy picked out for her. As the lid gives way, a delighted gasp escapes her lips. Her eyes light up like stars as they take in the contents before her – an outfit that Mark has never seen before. The mere sight of it infuses her with a sense of joy that she hasn't experienced in a while.

With a jubilant cheer, Keira exclaims, "A Summer Yukata!" The excitement in her voice is undeniable, and her fingers delicately trace the intricate patterns that adorn the fabric. The Yukata's colors are a captivating blend that conjures images of fireworks painting the summer night sky. The hues seem to dance before her eyes, reminiscent of the vibrant displays she has only heard of. The matching wooden sandals and sash completes the outfit.

As she lifts the Yukata from the box, a pleasant surprise greets her – it's light and cool to the touch. The contrast to her usual robes is striking, and a pleasant shiver of anticipation runs down her spine. The fabric seems to promise comfort, a relief from the weight of tradition she's carried for so long.

“Where did you get this?” Mark curiously asks.

“There’s a tailor in Echo Village that knows how to make this style of clothing. I sent her Keira’s measurements, and I was impressed by the results. I knew Keira would love it.”

Beaming with excitement, Keira says, “I’m going to try this on right now.” She then rushes to her room leaving Mark and Muffy to chat.

“By the way,” said Muffy. “I hope you don’t mind, but I used your credit card to buy all this.”

“Wait, you still have it?” asked Mark.

“Of course I do,” she answered giving him a playful nudge. “You never asked for it back, and I figured that you would need me to buy you more clothes. I never thought I would go shopping for your wife instead.”

Muffy and Mark laughs and exchange nostalgic smiles as they revisit the cherished moments that they've woven together in Forget-Me-Not Valley. Their friendship, though rooted in the calm of the village, carries the vivid echoes of a past they both miss dearly—the vibrant city life that once pulsed through their veins.

As they journey down memory lane, they revisit the simple beauty of the village life that brought them together. Stories of the city they were born in as they walk through the sun-kissed fields and tranquil sunsets unfold like chapters of a cherished book, evoking a sense of serenity that only a quaint village can bestow. The dull moments that once seemed uneventful, shimmer with significance, for they were the threads that wove their friendship tight.

When Muffy's union with Griffin marked the dawn of a new chapter for her, the ebb and flow of life created a temporary distance between them. Yet, their connection remained imprinted on their hearts, a bond forged in the crucible of friendship. As Muffy embarked on her journey of motherhood, her priorities shifted, but the essence of their camaraderie endured.

Mark's own marriage to Keira rewrote the script of their lives once more. The union of a farmer and a princess, a convergence of two worlds, seemed to reignite the spark of friendship between Mark and Muffy. With shared experiences of marital life, their bond found renewed strength. As they talk, the room seems to reverberate with the echoes of laughter from years gone by, a testament to the resilience of their connection. While the details of Mark’s marriage are stranger than Muffy would have liked, it presented a bit of enjoyment as their tale feels fantastical. Muffy is glad to be a part of it.

After a while, Keira emerges from her room, adorned in the elegant yukata. A soft flush colors Mark's cheeks as he beholds her in this new ensemble. The yukata molds to her figure as the sash holds her outfit together, a departure from the flowing robes she customarily donned. Its snug fit showcases a side of her he's never witnessed before. She playfully executes a little hop, illustrating the yukata's featherlight nature that seems to imbue her with an airy grace. In this moment, Keira exudes a childlike glee, a facet of her personality Mark has yet to encounter. Gone is the weight of her customary robe that symbolized her solemn responsibility. Instead, she radiates an invigorating youthfulness, unburdened by the weight of tradition. The Yukata is slightly shorter than her robe, showing off her feet adorned with the wooden sandals. Clearly, Keira is happy with her new outfit.

“Look at you, blushing like a young schoolboy seeing your crush for the first time. Don’t forget that she is your wife!” Muffy teased.

Keira rushes to Muffy, her excitement beaming, “thank you so much. This is perfect!”

“You’re welcome. But don’t forget, there’s still one more thing I bought for you.” Muffy then takes the final package and hands it to Keira.

She sets the package on a surface and delicately opens it, her curiosity piqued. Mark's gaze inadvertently dips into the contents, and a swift rush of heat suffuses his cheeks upon glimpsing what lies within. The box cradles an array of women's undergarments, each exhibiting a diverse spectrum of colors and styles. Lace graces many, while others boast intricate frills and delicate, feminine motifs. Tops and bottoms, meticulously coordinated to create ensembles of allure and sexy charm. His gaze then flicks to Keira, attempting valiantly to sidestep his own imagination. However, his primal instincts seem to stir, eliciting a fleeting turmoil within him.

“What is all this?” asked Keira.

“It’s women’s underwear,” answered Muffy. “Come on, I’ll take you to your room and teach you how to put them on.”

His mind is ensnared in a whirlwind of images, his imagination dancing at the precipice of impropriety. The thought of the two women, Keira and Muffy, in her bedroom, engaged in the intimate task of trying on undergarments, becomes an overwhelming deluge of mental stimuli. It's a sensory tide that drowns his sensibilities, and his body responds in kind.

Then, as if unable to sustain the weight of his impure thoughts, his consciousness teeters and gives way. Mark succumbs to an unexpected surrender, his face a portrait of crimson embarrassment. He collapses, a blush of both bashfulness and physical reaction.

In moments, Keira is by his side, concern etching her features. She hovers with worry not comprehending the cause of his sudden fall. Muffy, however, offers a reassuring smile, an emblem of understanding. "He's quite alright, Keira," she says, her tone a mixture of playfulness and wisdom. "Just a healthy male, momentarily overcome by his own nature." It's a whispered secret shared between the women, a reminder of the intricacies of human behavior. And in that moment, as Mark lies in repose, the chapter draws to a close, a blend of humor and innocence, a snapshot of life's quirks and complexities.