Bayonetta was naked, her beautiful figure fully exposed in the sunlight.
She stood before the full-length mirror in the bedroom and pondered for a while, then picked up the outfit she had discarded just ten minutes earlier from the rack beside her. It was a black backless evening gown, suitable with black high heels. More than a dozen similar dresses lay nearby. Jeanne was doing something similar, except she had arranged dozens of different pairs of high heels beside her mirror, searching for shoes to match her dark red dress. Only Salomon sat on the bedroom sofa, chatting idly with the Cheshire Cat in his arms about rambling, noisy things that not even he himself understood—he had been sitting there for an hour and a half, racking his brains to praise the Witches' fashion sense in an attempt to shorten their time spent changing clothes.
"This evening gown..."
Before he could finish, the Black-haired Witch rolled her eyes at him and walked back to change into another outfit. She merely wanted Salomon to look at it. Whatever thoughts the Arcanist might have would not disrupt her process, as though she followed some mysterious cosmic truth when choosing clothes, as unshakable as the Earth orbiting the sun.
"We're just visiting Cassilius, Bayonetta."
"If you took your relationships seriously, you would know that Cassilius might introduce us to his partner." Bayonetta's voice came from the walk-in closet. "He treats you like his own child, so we must be polite. Look at this one—does it show too much?"
"Wow! Why didn't you wear that last night?" Salomon's eyes lit up.
"Because you get my clothes dirty every time!"
"We can wash clothes just like we wash the sheets! That's what washing machines are for!" The Arcanist spread his hands, looking utterly innocent. "Besides,