In spite of his tall frame, the dress looks unexpectedly good on him. The dark blue fabric matches with his smooth, fair skin. Padding was even put on his chest. More than that, the amber wig on his head frames his face charmingly—it fits well with his cat-like blue eyes.

Marigold props her hands on her hips. “A pleasing sight!” she remarks in a lilting tone of mischief and fascination. A slight tinge of blush shows on Steven’s face. The young man turns his face away in embarrassment.

"You are doing this out of spite, aren't you?" Steven mutters.

Marigold puts her hand over her chest in mock offense. "How gloomy of you! Beauty must be appreciated!"

The young man narrows his blue eyes at her. "I'm not sure if I appreciate your compliment." The girl merely giggles.

Steven notices the unused black wig on the table. "Your hair," he mentions while looking questioningly at Marigold's head.

"Oh," the girl exclaims, and her hand flies self-consciously to her hair. "I cut and dyed it, so that even after this, they will have a hard time finding me." She plays with her locks a little. "We resemble each other now, don't we?" She smiles.

Steven openly frowns. He averts his stare and says, "Not in the slightest." His voice has a tone of irritation in it. Marigold is puzzled.

After finishing with the disguises, the two prepare to leave. Steven puts a short shawl over his head as if attempting to hide his hair; Marigold places a guiding hand on Steven's back as if leading him to safety. Henrietta unlatches the back door.

"I'm sorry I had to leave like this," Marigold tells Etta.

Etta smiles warmly. "It's fine—it was fun having you around." She gives a final pat to Marigold's back. "You are welcome to work for me again once things quiet down."

Marigold is moved. "Thank you."

Etta opens the door, and the two set out.

They run with their heads ducked. Marigold carries all of her things by herself—so characteristic of the chivalrous man coming to take the damsel to safety.

"I apologize for being unable to help you carry your things," Steven says with a grin.

Marigold glares at him. "These are not even heavy, and now you're making me feel bad about them."

The young man chuckles.

The two continue with their jog towards the outskirts of town, when they finally notice the men following after them. They change course and go for the winding alleyways. Marigold grips Steven's hand as they dash, with Steven maintaining a steady pace behind her. The pair eventually reaches a passage that diverges in two opposite directions.

“Ready?” Steven huffs.

Marigold nods.

They part ways.

The black-haired girl now goes on a full sprint, paying no heed on whoever could still be on her heels. She needs to get to the meeting place immediately. Fortunately, it only takes her a few turns to find the familiar stack of crates and wine barrels, and the tavern’s back door next to it. She slips inside and pushes her back against the door. 'Steven must have led the men astray by now. He will be here at any moment,' Marigold declares internally, willing herself to place her full faith in Steven.

Steven, meanwhile, cannot drop the act yet. Pretending to run like Marigold is not as feminine as most people would think, but it still slowed him down. He runs away from the town alleyways and goes for the woods beyond town. He looks over his shoulder. The pursuers are after him. 'Good,' he thinks. 'The plan worked. I hope the rest don't catch up to her.'

He sprints madly among the trees in practiced turns—he has memorized the terrain to an extent. He flings away his shawl to a random spot to throw some of the men off-trail. Then he rushes to a patch filled with brambles and thorn bushes, and maneuvers past them.

Fortunately, the men are unfamiliar with the woods, so they stumble over the thorny weeds. Steven seizes the opportunity and outruns them, taking a rough shortcut back to town. Once out of sight, he deliberately discards his disguises in a conspicuous corner in the street. He shifts to walking at a more leisurely pace and returns to the tavern as himself again.

Upon opening the door, he finds Marigold slumped against the wall, waiting for him. The girl instantly turns her head at the sound of the door. She stands up and rushes to Steven.

Marigold realizes she has nothing to tell him. "You're back," she says softly. She reprimands herself inside. 'Indeed, what was I even thinking? Running up and holding him, saying "Thank goodness you're alive"? Ridiculous!'

"Yea," Steven replies.

She is now standing awkwardly in front of him, looking at everywhere but him.

"So, what shall we do now?" is the best sentence she can grasp.

"We can talk elsewhere," he says drily.

"Oh!" The girls exclaims, and reflexively sidles to the side. "I'm sorry."

Steven walks ahead. "It's fine."

Marigold timidly follows him two steps behind. 'I should be thanking him now, honestly,' she scolds herself again. Stupid pride! It just keeps her from doing what used to be natural. Or is it shame this time? She stares at his back, not without guilt.

Just like how it was a month back, they are seated in a table for two, sipping apple juice. 'Now, I realize that 'magical' afternoon was just made of regular apple juice, flavored with my fantasy,' she recalls with a jaded smile. She gazes at Steven, whose blue eyes stare absently at the ground. She takes a deep breath.

"...Thank you."

The young man breaks off his reverie and looks back at Marigold. "Oh."

He glances down.

Steven also fumbles for words. "I, uh, should apologize for being insensitive throughout this whole affair..."

"No," the girl cuts him off. "I was being prideful. You were trying to make up for the past, and I understand that."

Steven stares at her intently, deeply. Marigold already knew what that look meant, but even now she feels she will never comprehend it in its entirety. She says nothing for a while, and lets herself stare back at him.

"Do you know me well beyond the things I tell you?"

Steven's words pop in her head. 

Could those eyes hold more meaning than...

"Is something the matter?"

Marigold was in a daze. She blinks repeatedly. "No, nothing, really," she murmurs.

"I was just, thinking about how little I actually know about you," she adds with a laugh. This is the most honest she has been with him so far.

Steven half-smiles. "Likewise," he says.