Chapter 56 – Operation: Casual Wear

【Esdeath PoV】

I stood in front of my closet at 0600 hours.

Mission parameters were clear. Secure a successful date with Target Kai. Objective: appear approachable, non-threatening, and within acceptable human courtship parameters.

The problem was my wardrobe.

Fifty military uniforms hung in perfect rows. Each one pressed with mathematical precision. Each one identical. Navy blue jackets with gold buttons. White shirts. Black pants. The uniform of Director Esdeath, head of Strategic Containment Operations.

And in the back corner, covered in plastic, hung one sundress.

I purchased it three years ago during a moment of weakness. An online shopping incident at 0200 hours after reading a romance novel confiscated from a subordinate.

The dress was yellow. Floral pattern. Knee-length. It had thin straps and a skirt that would move when I walked.

I pulled it from the closet like I was handling a live explosive.

The fabric felt foreign in my hands. Soft. Delicate. Completely impractical for combat situations.

I analyzed the tactical advantages.

The floral pattern could provide camouflage in garden environments. The yellow color suggested warmth and approachability according to color psychology studies. The thin straps would allow maximum mobility for upper body movements.

But the skirt was a liability. No pockets for weapons. No reinforced panels. If hostiles engaged during the date, I would be at a severe disadvantage.

I set the dress on my bed and stared at it.

This was ridiculous. I had commanded military operations across three continents. I had negotiated treaties with hostile entities. I had faced down cosmic horrors without flinching.

But a sundress made my hands shake.

I stripped out of my sleep uniform and picked up the dress. The fabric whispered as I pulled it over my head. The fit was snug around my chest, then flowed loose around my waist.

I looked in the full-length mirror.

The woman staring back at me was not Director Esdeath. She was someone softer. Younger. Almost vulnerable.

I hated it.

I loved it.

I couldn’t decide which emotion was more terrifying.

My phone sat on the dresser, screen glowing. I had seventeen tabs open. All WikiHow articles.

“How to Be Approachable.”

“How to Smile Without Looking Threatening.”

“First Date Conversation Topics That Don’t Involve Military Strategy.”

I picked up the phone and scrolled through the makeup tutorial I’d bookmarked.

Step one: Foundation.

I opened my cosmetics kit. It was organized like a tactical loadout. Each product labeled and categorized by function.

I squeezed foundation onto my hand and began applying it to my face. The texture felt strange. Oily. My skin wasn’t used to this.

The tutorial said to blend in circular motions. I blended. My reflection showed even coverage with minimal streaking.

Acceptable performance.

Step two: Blush.

I picked up the compact and brush. The instructions said to smile and apply to the apples of your cheeks.

I smiled at the mirror.

It looked like a threat display. All teeth. No warmth.

I tried again, softening my expression.

Better. Almost human.

I thought about Kai. The way he looked at me during our last briefing. That small smile when I made a dry observation about the cafeteria incident.

Heat rose in my cheeks.

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees instantly.

No. No no no.

I couldn’t control the ice when I got flustered. It was an automatic response tied to my emotional state.

Frost crept across the mirror. My breath came out in visible puffs.

I forced myself to think about paperwork. Budget reports. Inventory manifests. Boring things that didn’t make my heart rate spike.

The temperature stabilized.

I reached for the mascara.

The brush was frozen solid.

I stared at it. The black gel had crystallized, turning the applicator into a spiky icicle.

Unacceptable.

I grabbed a hairdryer from under the sink and aimed it at the mascara. The ice melted slowly, dripping black tears onto the counter.

This was a disaster.

I managed to apply one coat to my lashes before thinking about Kai again. About sitting across from him at a restaurant. About him maybe reaching across the table to hold my hand.

The mascara froze mid-application.

I looked like I had tiny icicles hanging from my eyelashes.

I spent the next fifteen minutes thawing and reapplying. By the end, my eyes looked decent. Not perfect. But acceptable for civilian standards.

Step three: Lipstick.

Deploying lipstick felt like loading a weapon. I selected a shade called “Dusty Rose.” It was supposed to be subtle and natural.

I applied it in three precise strokes. My lips looked pinker. Fuller. The color made my face seem less severe.

I practiced my smile again.

Still too sharp. Too much intensity.

I consulted the WikiHow article. “Smile with your eyes, not just your mouth. Think happy thoughts.”

I thought about Kai. About the way he said my name. Professional. Respectful. But with a hint of something else.

My reflection smiled. It looked almost genuine.

The temperature dropped again. Frost spread across the sink.

I was going to have to meditate during the entire date just to keep from turning the restaurant into a winter wonderland.

I moved on to hair.

My white hair was my signature. Long, straight, cut with military precision. I usually wore it down or in a high ponytail during operations.

The tutorial suggested a side braid. “Romantic but practical.”

I attempted the braid. My fingers fumbled with the sections. Muscle memory from hand-to-hand combat training didn’t translate to hairstyling.

After three failed attempts, I managed something that resembled the tutorial image. The braid hung over my left shoulder, secured with a plain black elastic.

It would have to do.

I stepped back and assessed my full appearance.

The sundress fit well. The makeup enhanced my features without looking excessive. The braid added a softer element to my usual severe aesthetic.

I looked. Normal. Disturbingly normal.

This was the most dangerous mission I’d ever undertaken.

I picked up my purse. Black leather. Small. It contained my phone, wallet, pepper spray, a tactical knife, and a locator beacon.

I held it like it was a detonator. Gripped tight. Ready to deploy if the situation went sideways.

My desk sat in the corner of my quarters. Paperwork was stacked in neat piles. My laptop was closed. And next to the keyboard sat a custom action figure.

Kai. Three inches tall. Perfect replica down to his exhausted expression.

I’d commissioned it from a specialty shop in Japan. Told them it was for morale purposes. They didn’t need to know I looked at it every morning and evening.

I walked over and picked it up. The plastic was cool against my palm.

“Wish me luck, subordinate.”

My voice was barely a whisper. The words felt foreign. I didn’t believe in luck. I believed in preparation and execution.

But this wasn’t a military operation. This was a date. And I had no tactical advantage here.

I set the figure down carefully. Its tiny painted eyes stared up at me. Judging. Or maybe encouraging. I couldn’t tell.

I grabbed my keys.

I checked my reflection one last time. Smoothed down the skirt. Adjusted the braid.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

I was Director Esdeath. I commanded armies. I negotiated with cosmic entities. I could handle dinner with one exhausted warden.

I marched toward the door with the intensity of entering a boss fight.

My hand gripped the doorknob. The metal felt solid. Real.

I took a breath. Frost formed on the door.

Control. I needed control.

I thought about Kai’s smile. About the possibility of making him laugh. About sitting close enough to smell his cologne.

My hand trembled on the doorknob.

This was either the best tactical decision of my career or the worst.

Only one way to find out.

I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. My heels clicked against the floor with military precision. Each step measured. Each breath controlled.

The sun was setting outside the windows. Golden light streamed through the glass, turning everything warm and soft.

I looked down at my yellow sundress. At my painted nails gripping the purse.

I was engaging in Operation Casual Wear. The most terrifying mission of my life.

And I was walking straight into it like I had a death wish.​