It had taken work. The hard pill of swallowing down his pride and asking for help, of trying on wigs and uniforms, and pushing back any ideas of liking or enjoying any bit of it, but the work was going to pay off. While many boys broke into Crystal at night plenty of times, Ladon, or "London", would be trying a new approach. Not for sex. Not for panties. But for valuable information and what he hoped would be a nice reward to bring back to the Negaverse. It was luck that no one else knew about the hows about how he would worked to prepare for his plan. The only person who knew he was going to be dressing up like this didn't even know the full truth. Paris barely knew anything other than Ladon wanted to get into the school, and after that, well, Paris knew jack.

Part of him wished that he had some romantic endeavor like the lie he told his new friend(?), but after this point, he was getting used to lying. He liked about plenty of things that he didn't find it hard anymore. Before it was like jumping in cold waters, where he's sputter and try not to look uncomfortable as he lied point blank to friends and family, but not it was just warm, familiar water that made things easier for him.

His nonexistent friends he was sleeping over at just so he could spend an entire night patrolling. The large bruise on his arm from falling while running or so he said. The missing eye he told his mother was from broken class during the coma epidemic and being on his own and unsupervised. A lie. He lost count, but life was easier. Paris would consider him a romantic, if not a foolish one. His mother would feel guilty, but keep up the idea that he son was sweet, innocent, and was always and would always remain a victim instead of the punisher.

These were all lies, and with all their benefits, he found it hard to frown at them anymore. Lying helped him and protected others. The saying "everyone does it" came to mind, and well, at least his lying had purpose.

Even right now, he was a lie. A boy dressed in a curly, blonde wig and a powder-blue uniform, and like most lies, it had benefits and purpose.

Slipping on a pair of long socks and buckling some Mary Janes, recently purchased, he checked himself in the mirror once more. Paris had done an excellent job on the makeup. He barely recognized himself anymore. Ladon had turned into "London" in a matter of a hour, and he brushed some of the fake, blonde hair behind an ear.

Should he feel bad about himself for all of this? Morals said that he was in the wrong, but looking to the future, his goal was bigger than some white lies. He was working on a better tomorrow, with senshi free from the streets and the Negaverse, the supernatural police force of Earth, the guardians of the people against invaders, happily in control. If saying a lie here and there helped to achieve this goal, then it really wasn't bad in the long run.

This was business. This was personal. This was bigger than all of them. If he had to prance in a skirt to get there, so be it.

And he'd lie if anyone said he cross-dressed in his lifetime. That lie – well – that one would be just for him.