I turned my head and looked at Kaelira.
"You want to choose, or are you planning to pick sothing out yourself?" I asked, casually, like it didn’t matter. Because honestly, it didn’t. "I don’t have a problem either way."
She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes scanned the rows of clothes—endless racks of fabric in every possible cut, colour, and style. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to pick sothing—it was more like she didn’t know how to.
Truthfully, she looked overwheld.
And I won’t lie—watching her try to pretend she wasn’t made want to laugh. Not out of malice or anything, but it was just... kind of adorable. Like watching a battle-hardened war general trying to figure out which brand of scented candle to buy.
I lowered my head, trying to suppress the snicker bubbling up in my throat. Barely held it in. Swallowed the urge and looked back up at her.
"Let pick sothing out for you," I said, trying not to sound too smug about it. "Fair warning though—I’m a black connoisseur. So don’t expect much colour variety."
She crossed her arms and gave a half-nod, her eyes still scanning the racks.
"I don’t mind," she said flatly. "You’re the one paying for it anyway. As long as it fits and I can move in it, I won’t complain."
I raised a brow, a chuckle slipping out. "You’re weirdly cooperative today. What’s the occasion? Did soone swap your soul with a tutorial NPC?"
She t my eyes, not amused in the slightest. "You’ve known for three days," she said, voice even and sharp. "What kind of girl do you think I am?"
I didn’t break eye contact. I held her gaze and gave the first answer that ca to mind—raw and unfiltered.
"A confident, blunt, beautiful, strong, empathetic... and kind girl."
That made her blink. Just a flicker. She wasn’t expecting that. I could see the subtle shift in her eyes—the brief mont her defenses dropped. Her cheeks turned a faint shade of red, just enough to notice if you were looking closely.
She looked away.
She was... cute.
I won’t lie about that either.
Still, I didn’t push it. I turned on my feet and made my way toward the racks like I hadn’t just thrown a hand grenade at her emotional state.
The won’s section was a warzone of styles—shirts, pants, skirts, jackets, one-pieces, two-pieces, layered sets, athletic wear, lounge wear, even sothing that looked like it was designed for underwater combat. Or a fetish dungeon. Hard to tell these days.
Eventually, I stopped in front of a section that felt like the right mix of utility and style. Trousers. Crop tops. Hoodies.
All black or shades of grey. Practical, clean, but not boring. The hoodie was an open zip style—easy to move in, breathable. Nothing flashy. Just efficient.
Each piece was priced at around 200 RHB. Not bad. Pretty cheap, honestly. At least compared to Earth where one branded hoodie could gut your wallet like a fish.
I grabbed two of each—mixing sizes just in case, not that I knew her exact asurents or anything—and walked back toward her, the fabric slung over my arm.
I held up the set in front of her. "What do you think? Like it?"
She looked at the clothes, eyes scanning them with the sa intensity she probably used in a combat scenario. Then she looked back at and nodded.
"Yeah. They’re nice."
Simple. Straight to the point. I respected that.
With her confirmation, I walked straight to the counter. No hesitation. No second-guessing. The AI assistant hovered in place like a ghost made of chro, its lens-like eyes glowing faint blue.
It scanned the clothes, then turned to . "Dear custor, the total cost is 1200 RHB. Please provide your ID for transaction."
I pulled out my ID, and handed it over. The assistant inserted it into a sleek, card-reader-looking machine. A soft green glow lit up the display.
"Transaction complete," the AI said, handing my ID. It gave a low chanical bow. "Thank you for your purchase. Please return again soon."
"Sure," I muttered, taking the clothes.
I looked around and spotted Kaelira, now roaming the store with a strange kind of distracted curiosity. Maybe she was just killing ti. Or maybe she was pretending not to stare at the cosplay section again. Who knew?
I approached her and held out the clothes. "Here. Store them in your inventory. When you feel comfortable, change into them."
She took the bundle with a nod. Her face was still calm, impassive, but there it was again—that tiny, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She was trying to hide it, but I saw it.
Despite everything, she was... happy.
That was enough.
With that done, it was ti for my own shopping spree. If you could call it that.
I didn’t waste ti. No dramatic stares or second-guessing. I went straight to the n’s section, beelined to the trousers and hoodie rack, and grabbed what I needed.
Black, obviously. I didn’t even consider another colour. Monochro was the way of life—clean, reliable, tactical. I wasn’t about to show up to a battle royale wearing fluorescent yellow like so peacock on crack.
Back at the counter, I handed over the clothes and my ID to the assistant. The machine scanned everything, processed the paynt, and returned both the bagged items and my card. Total cost—400 RHB.
Cheap enough. That left with around 8k RHB still in my account. A decent cushion.
I didn’t waste any ti. I looked around, found the nearest changing room tucked into a quiet corner of the store, and made my way over without a word.
Once inside, I stripped off the standard-issue Rose Academy uniform. Tucked it into my inventory—it would probably co in handy again later. Then I changed into the black hoodie and trousers I’d just bought.
The hoodie was soft but snug. The trousers fit perfectly. All black. Minimalist. Functional. Clean.
As soon as I zipped the hoodie halfway and ran a hand down my arm, a strange, grounding sensation spread through —like I’d just clicked back into my own skin.
This... felt more like .
Not the "Cassius" that wore prim academy attire and recited protocol, but Arawn—the one who knew how to move, how to fight, how to survive. It was subtle, but the shift in mindset was undeniable.
I exhaled slowly, then stepped out of the changing room and began scanning the store for Kaelira. It was ti to head to the Battle Royale.
But—she wasn’t there.
At first, I thought maybe she’d wandered off. Wouldn’t be the first ti she chased so random PvP opportunity only to get flattened. I humored the idea with a smirk. Maybe she was itching for another ego bruise.
But before the thought could go anywhere, her voice called out from behind .
"Ahmm... Cassius..."
The tone made pause.
There was sothing uncharacteristically soft about it—shy, hesitant. I turned around, curious.
And then I saw her.
Kaelira stood near the edge of the changing area, her hands awkwardly folded in front of her. She was wearing the clothes I’d picked—grey crop top, black open hoodie, and black trousers. The combination, while simple, hugged her form in all the right places.
The hoodie hung open, revealing her athletic fra—defined abs, a tight waist, and toned arms. She wasn’t built like so frail fantasy heroine; she looked like soone who trained, fought, bled.
But now?
She was trying to act reserved.
The way the outfit frad her body... I’ll be honest, I might’ve made a tactical mistake. Her attractiveness didn’t just increase by a few levels. No—it multiplied. Tenfold.
I froze.
My mouth parted slightly as my brain tried—and failed—to process the image.
"You... really are pretty... gorgeous," I muttered, barely audible, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
And worse?
I was stuttering.
Stuttering...
This wasn’t .
I wasn’t so hormone-addled kid who lost all composure the second a girl looked good in tight clothing. I didn’t stamr over complints. I didn’t get caught off guard.
And the fact that I did?
It pissed off.
Not at her.
At myself.
Kaelira, blissfully unaware of the silent civil war going on in my skull, tilted her head and ran a hand down her hoodie sleeve.
"These aren’t uncomfortable," she said, almost like she was justifying herself. "Your choice... is good."
Her voice was soft. Almost teasing.
She was acting shy. Cute. Like she was deliberately toning down her usual confidence.
And that only irritated more.
Not because she was acting differently—but because my reaction to it was so damn visceral.
I forced myself to inhale through my nose, reset my posture, and locked that part of back behind the emotional firewall where it belonged.
"Good," I said, voice firr now. Stripped of awkwardness. "Now let’s go. We still have that Battle Royale to deal with. I saw the location—it’s in a ga center deep inside Astreel."
My tone had turned clipped, efficient.
Kaelira noticed. Her expression shifted—subtle, but sharp. The softness vanished, and she returned to her usual confident self.
"Yeah," she replied, crossing her arms. "I checked earlier. It’s about a three-hour walk from here. We should take a taxi. It’s cheap, and we’ll get there faster."
I gave a nod. "Fine. Let’s do that."
Then, after a pause, I added—this ti with my usual tone, cool but intentional—
"You really do look good, though. Absolutely gorgeous."
She blinked.
"See?" I added with a faint smirk. "Told you. You should give yourself a few touches here and there. Makes a difference."
That was more like . Controlled. Smooth. No more stamring, no more wide-eyed gawking. Just a statent of fact.
Kaelira didn’t respond right away. But the way her gaze lingered on —subtly, curiously—told everything I needed to know.
Yeah. She heard it.
And she liked it.
Now, with the mont settled and our awkward detour behind us, it was ti to head out.
The Battle Royale wasn’t going to wait.
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