Transmigrated as Jane’s Ghostly Godmother - Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Changes in Appearance—Jane Looks A Little Different Than Before…

Looking left and right, Jane failed to find the figure she was yearning for; instead, the crowd began moving toward the assembly hall.

Although it hadn’t been convenient to speak earlier, she hadn’t missed the marks on Lin Zhao’s body. Jane suspected Lin Zhao had gone through quite an ordeal, but there was currently no way to verify it.

I hope she’s just gone to rest…

Worrying about the missing Miss Ghost, Jane was absent-minded. Once at the assembly hall, she didn’t really absorb what Eleanor and Beatrice were chatting about.

“…That’s great! Jane, what do you think?” Eleanor’s voice snapped her back to reality. Jane reflexively looked up, meeting the expectant eyes of her two friends.

“Um, yeah… sure…” Not wanting them to see she was preoccupied, she blinked and agreed.

Only after speaking did she notice the students beginning to stream back out, and Eleanor was already enthusiastically linking arms with both her and Beatrice to follow the line.

“What’s going on?”

Hearing Jane’s question, Beatrice looked over: “Weren’t you listening? Even so, you can’t go back on what you promised.”

Jane blinked again, sensing that this was a bad omen.

In fact, her intuition was always quite accurate in these moments.

As soon as they returned to the dormitory, she was pressed into a chair in front of the mirror. Only then did Jane realize what she had agreed to.

It turned out that a teacher had announced a temporary arrangement in the hall: due to the unexpected incident, the “Woodland Exploration” had been abruptly terminated, with no plans to restart the competition. The afternoon leading up to the closing ceremony was now free time for the students.

Furthermore, for the evening banquet, the top-ranking groups were required to attend in formal attire.

Eleanor and Beatrice had decided they were going to give Jane a proper makeover.

“…I wasn’t listening carefully,” Jane tried to bargain. She truly didn’t have many clothes or jewelry to offer, and she was very uncomfortable being the so-called “focus” of a banquet. “I’ll just wear the shawl Lena gave me over my school uniform; that should be enough.”

Beatrice shook her head in disapproval. Her brief moment of being “easy on the tongue” after exiting the woods had officially expired.

“No. We are a group. I don’t want us to be anything less than decent at the banquet.”

Jane silently recalled Beatrice’s daily attire. To Jane, those were already on the scale of a grand banquet. One could only imagine what direction Beatrice’s definition of “decent” would take.

Since Beatrice had never been shy about belittling Jane’s clothes for not matching the school’s atmosphere, Jane felt perfectly justified in retorting.

“You know my situation. You’ll just end up rummaging through my trunk and then demanding an apology for making your eyes suffer through ‘low-class’ fashion.”

Beatrice seemed to have anticipated this. She curled her lips—not into her usual icy smirk, but a genuine smile.

“I’m the one demanding your cooperation, so naturally, we won’t be using your clothes.”

With that, she turned around to drag out several large trunks filled with her own clothes and began searching through them.

“When Lena gave you that shawl yesterday, I thought of a very suitable dress. They’ll make a perfect set—”

Wait, this isn’t right. Shouldn’t I be able to successfully back out of this plan?

Jane looked to Eleanor for help, only to find the girl trying her best to stifle a laugh. The moment their eyes met, Eleanor’s eyes lit up uncontrollably.

“Jane, Betty is an expert at picking outfits! Once you’re changed, I’m going to weave the most perfect braids for you. I guarantee you’ll be beautiful tonight!”

Beautiful. This word placed another stone on the scale in her heart, tipping it further toward “discomfort.”

She even forgot to answer Eleanor, instinctively looking down at herself. Her plain long dress was clean enough, but it was nowhere near “decent.” Her hands, resting on her knees, were habitually pale—hardly a healthy complexion. Not to mention, she knew well without a mirror that her features were unremarkable.

How could that word describe her?

Only someone as kind as Eleanor would say such a thing; most people looking at her would only think the opposite.

She couldn’t help but clench her hands, her mind muddled with words to find a way out. However, the silence was brief, broken by another sound.

“Here, take this.”

Beatrice emerged from the pile of clothes and stuffed a long gown into Jane’s arms.

It was a dark green dress of excellent quality. There were no excessive laces or decorations, only a few rows of delicate white embroidery at the collar and cuffs—simple yet elegant. The fabric felt cool, soft, and heavy against the back of Jane’s tense hands.

Jane’s first reaction was to catch it, then she looked up at Beatrice with utter confusion.

“For me?”

“Uh-huh. You should at least have one decent gown to attend the banquet, shouldn’t you?” Beatrice began tidying the trunk she had messed up. “I haven’t worn this dress many times, but I’ve grown too tall for it; it doesn’t fit me well anymore. But I thought it might just fit your size.”

Among the three of them, Beatrice was indeed the tallest, most developed, and the oldest. She was set to move up to the senior grades in the second half of the year.

Jane held the dress, speechless.

Yes, she could see this dress was worth a fortune—better than all her clothes combined. And to receive an award on stage at a banquet in front of so many students from wealthy families, perhaps she should dress more decently.

But she truly lacked that kind of experience and did not want to appear awkward or be looked down upon.

She hesitated, trying to pull out the most direct excuse: “No… this is too expensive, I can’t…”

“Expensive or not,” Beatrice had already prepared a rebuttal and interrupted her immediately, “A dress only has value when it’s worn; otherwise, it’s just a piece of fabric. Besides, I said I wanted to thank you. If you like, consider it my apology…”

She became awkward again, her voice trailing off, but her face clearly said “no objections” as she stared straight at Jane.

“Anyway, I’ve already pulled it out. Go change first!”

The moment Jane wavered, Eleanor seized the opportunity to join in.

“Jaaaaaane,” she placed her hand on Jane’s shoulder, rocking her gently with a playful, elongated whine, “Just this once, okay? I’ve always wanted to dress you up. We have nothing else to do anyway, so let’s just treat it like a game, alright?”

“If you wear it and don’t like it, you can just take it off, how about that?”

Seeing the persistence of her two friends, Jane sighed and gave in: “…Fine.”

Once they see how poorly it fits, they’ll give up, right?

As it turned out, once she yielded, she was no longer in control. After changing into the dress, she didn’t even have time to see what she looked like before Eleanor expertly pressed her down to begin braiding her hair.

Jane cooperated stiffly. Once her hair was styled, Beatrice pulled her up to drape the shawl over her, and then the two of them circled her, debating which hair accessories and brooches to use.

At Gateshead, Jane had often seen Georgiana and Eliza surrounded by servants being dressed up; she never imagined she would ever have such an experience.

Jane felt dizzy. Her initial discomfort had long since dissipated like driftwood pushed by the tide of her friends’ discussions.

After being fussed over for an unknown amount of time, she was finally pressed back in front of the mirror.

“See, I told you it was a perfect fit.” Beatrice adjusted the hair ornaments while looking in the mirror, her tone full of admiration. “Honestly, Jane, you’ve changed so much in this half-year—look how straight you’re standing now.”

Hearing this, Jane looked up at the mirror. One look, and she almost didn’t recognize the girl standing before her.

Her long hair had been meticulously styled. Most of it was gathered into a smooth, low bun at the back of her head, while the remaining strands were woven into delicate braids circling the bun, secured at the end by a small silver leaf-shaped comb. Eleanor had intentionally left a few slightly curled strands of hair to fall by her ears, softly framing her face.

The deep green gown reached just to the floor, making her figure appear lithe and tall; the shawl rested softly on her shoulders, perfectly concealing her slender arms. With the entire ensemble, the past plainness and timidity had vanished. The reflection in the mirror appeared calm and dignified, leaving her dazed for a moment.

Only then did she realize how much she had changed over the past six months.

Under the dual influence of Lin Zhao and the school’s etiquette classes, she had slowly corrected her once-cowering posture. Her back was straight, and she had begun to grow taller. Her weight hadn’t increased much, but her skin was no longer sickly pale as before; it now had a healthy, rosy glow.

As for her face, her features were not as soft as her roommates’, and she didn’t have much extra flesh. But as the air of cowardice faded from her expression, the way her features clung to her bone structure instead made her eyes look exceptionally spirited, and her whole being looked much sharper.

Staring at the mirror in silence for a moment, she found she truly couldn’t say she disliked it.

She even felt a sudden urge to look for those eyes that always watched her from behind, to see the other person’s expression—only to realize a second later that Lin Zhao was not here.

“Thank you both. I really like it…” Jane suppressed a sudden wave of disappointment and thanked her friends sincerely.

The two, satisfied with the answer, smiled at each other and went to prepare their own outfits for the night.

Jane sat back silently on her bed. The novelty and joy born from the makeover were swallowed by the worry brought by association.

Lin Zhao still hadn’t returned. Was she “busy with other matters” again, like before?

Should I have stayed to help instead of leaving then?

Brooding naturally provided no answers. Instead, because she forgot to manage her expression, Eleanor noticed.

“What’s wrong, Jane?” The chestnut-haired girl moved closer, asking cautiously, “Were you just humoring us? Are you still not used to it?”

“No, I really do like it.” Jane shook her head gently.

“But your beautiful green eyes are about to crinkle into lines—” Eleanor’s eyes darted around, and she suddenly thought of something. “Are you worried about bumping into the Reeds at the banquet? Don’t worry, I’m here!”

Actually, she hadn’t even thought of that. Jane blinked, and Eleanor realized from her expression that she was wrong. She whispered: “It seems you can handle them quite well on your own… Then what are you worried about?”

Feeling that she might actually crack under the pressure if asked a few more questions, Jane quickly changed the subject.

“I think… you should stop teasing me. Yours and Betty’s blue eyes are what counts as truly beautiful. What am I compared to that?”

“Light and dark colors each have their own merits, don’t they?” Beatrice, who was spraying herself with perfume nearby, interjected.

Dark-colored eyes?

This made Jane think of Lin Zhao again.

Those pitch-black pupils would reflect a bit of light in bright places, sparkling and bright. She had found it strange when she first saw them, but now she was used to it. In fact, because of the phrase “each have their own merits,” she perceived a certain unique charm in them.

If Eleanor and Beatrice could see Lin Zhao, they would know that her green eyes didn’t even count as “dark.”

If more people could see them and feel what she felt, would such black eyes also stir up a trend?

Jane followed the imagination deeper, even fantasizing: if Lin Zhao were to change out of her strange ancient clothes and put on a gown with a soft skirt—would that inhuman sense of detachment about her become even fainter?

But the fact remained that no matter what Jane thought now, the “ghost” at the center of her imagination was not here.

Jane came back to her senses. Under Eleanor’s puzzled gaze, she walked to the desk and pulled out a pen and paper.

“MISSING.”

She paused, then drew a small diagonal line after the word.

If possible, she hoped Lin Zhao would appear soon so she could cross out these marks.

She was truly curious about the other person’s reaction to her outfit.

Moreover, once tonight passed, next week would be the final stage of the league—the internal individual competition. She did not want Lin Zhao to be absent.

“If I can win first place, I will confess the things I hid from her at the beginning and apologize thoroughly,” she closed her notebook, making a silent promise in her heart.

“I want to tell her carefully just how grateful I am that she appeared by my side.”