Sia stared at the mirror, which reflected the lavish Washroom and a somewhat frail, pale-faced girl.
Sia shrank back a little. She only felt that she did not belong here, like a petty thief who had entered a palace.
She looked left and right, and after making sure no one was there, she rather clumsily tried to wet her hands and tidy her hair.
Her hair was dry and yellow, like a clump of withered weeds. Poverty never brought only hardship in daily life; it was more like a thorn, constantly reminding you of its presence.
The faucet was exquisite and ornate, but unfortunately, even after studying it for ages, Sia could not figure out how to turn it on. She had to turn toward the golden fountain opposite the washbasin and use its water to tidy her hair a little.
Skipping back to the mirror, Sia was surprised to find that the results were astonishingly good. Once wet, her hair no longer looked like weeds, and her exposed face looked much more delicate and fair.
Wait, why would tidying her hair make her face look fairer?
Sia was a little confused. She studied herself in the mirror in puzzlement, only to find that she was becoming more and more beautiful.
Could she be imagining it because she wanted so badly to be beautiful?
Sia's gaze moved downward, and her eyes slowly widened.
At some point, her patched cloth clothes had turned into a long black dress. Although it could hardly be called luxurious, its fabric was something she could never afford.
Even Sia, who knew nothing about the Supernatural, noticed that something was wrong. She took a step back, looking at the anomaly in the mirror, momentarily flustered.
Xiao and Maeve had never told her how to deal with