Meanwhile, Soren finally moved but he only adjusted his hold on me slightly as if I were just a decorative accessory he had picked up along the way, then continued listening to them like this was a completely normal social interaction.

I felt something inside me snap.

Just a little.

Not enough to cause a scene.

But enough.

’Oh,’ I thought, watching them fight for his attention like it was a limited-time offer, ’so this is how it is.’

Fine.

If I was going to be ignored and if I was going to be treated like I didn’t exist, hen I was going to make it everyone’s problem.

I lifted my head, locked eyes with Soren, and—without a single ounce of dignity left to preserve—swung my tail.

Slap!

The sound echoed.

Slap!

Heads turned.

Slap!

"..."

No sound can be heard and it was beautiful.

Every single one of the ladies froze, their bright smiles cracking as their attention—finally—shifted.

Not just to Soren, but to me.

The very real, very present, and now very violent creature sitting comfortably in his arms.

Even Soren looked at me.

I widened my eyes at him, offended on a deeply personal level.

’What is the point of bringing me here if you’re just going to stand around and get worshipped like a decorative statue?’ I thought.

’I was promised FUN. This is not fun. This is literally a social gathering I was not invited to.’

There was a pause.

A long one.

Then one of the women let out an awkward laugh, clearly trying to salvage whatever dignity remained in the situation.

"O-Oh! What’s this?" she said, her voice just a little too high-pitched. "It seems you have a... cute pet."

I slowly shifted my gaze and stared at her judgmentally. ’Cute? Me? Because I’m sure as hell I’m not looking very cute right now.’

Another one quickly jumped in, eager to recover. "Are you perhaps taking it to an animal clinic? I could show you the way!"

’IT. Did this woman just call me "IT"?’

Oh, I was going to commit crimes.

"Mind if I touch it?" a third one asked, reaching toward me with the confidence of someone who had clearly never faced consequences in her life.

I opened my mouth very wide, and snapped.

Clack!

Right in front of her fingers.

She recoiled so fast I’m pretty sure she saw her ancestors for a second.

"I-It seems you have a feisty pet," she laughed nervously, taking a full step back.

Feisty.

Pet.

I was two words away from starting a war.

"Excuse me, ladies," Soren finally said, as if none of this had just happened, his tone smooth and effortless, "but I have somewhere important to be."

Oh, now he speaks.

He raised a hand and hailed a cab like a man who had not just been publicly assaulted by his own companion.

The cab pulled up almost immediately and before the women could recover enough to protest, Soren stepped forward and got in, still holding me like I hadn’t just committed multiple acts of violence.

Behind us, a chorus of disappointed sighs filled the air.

"My Lord—!"

"Will we see you again—?"

"Please visit soon—!"

The door finally shut.

I exhaled, my tail swishing in satisfaction as I settled back into his arms like nothing had happened.

If I was going to be treated like a pet, then I was going to be the most problematic one they had ever seen.

"Where do you want to go?" the driver asked, glancing at us through the mirror.

Before Soren could even open his mouth, I leaned forward, already pulling out my OmniSync like a professional who had been waiting for this exact moment.

"Beasté Élegance Boutique at Regional Network District," I typed, then tilted the screen toward the driver.

He looked at it then at me.

There was a very noticeable pause where his brain tried to process what exactly I was, why I was typing, and how I had just confidently hijacked the destination like I paid the fare.

"Okay—" he started, then faltered mid-word as our eyes met. There was a flicker of hesitation, like he was debating whether to address me as miss, ma’am, or small terrifying creature.

"Okay," he repeated, clearing his throat like that would fix everything.

I smiled sweetly.

Which, judging by the way he immediately looked back at the road, did not help.

Satisfied, I returned to Soren’s side, curled up into a neat ball, and promptly fell asleep.

Which, apparently, was unacceptable behavior.

Because the next thing I knew, I was being lifted like a disgruntled house cat and placed back onto his lap and squeezed my tail.

My eyes snapped open.

"You’re just gonna sleep?" he asked, as if I had personally offended his ancestors. "No explanation why your tail suddenly slapped me?"

I glared at him, yanked my tail back and shut my eyes again.

’Conversation over. Case closed. Goodbye.’

"Are you angry?" he continued as he started playing with my ears, completely ignoring the very obvious ’do not disturb’ sign that was my entire existence right now.

I opened one eye, only to see him smiling playfully.

I sat up abruptly, grabbed my OmniSync, and typed with the intensity of someone drafting a declaration of war.

"Excuse me but who exactly said that we’re going to have fun?"

I shoved the screen into his face.

He blinked at it, then looked at me, still smiling like this was all part of some delightful bonding experience.

"But we really are going to have fun?"

My eye twitched.

I typed again, harder this time. The OmniSync made a concerning tapping noise, like it was begging me to calm down.

"It seems to me you have a different idea of having fun!"

He tilted his head, considering that like it was a philosophical debate instead of me actively losing my patience.

"It doesn’t mean I was having fun," he said, raising a hand defensively—though notably not removing the other one from my ear. "I only let them approach me because I didn’t want to cause a scene. I was about to call security when you suddenly assaulted me with your tail."

’Assaulted?’

I narrowed my eyes at him.

’Bold of him to say that while actively committing ear harassment.’

I took a deep breath, typed again, and showed it to him with the patience of someone on the brink.

"We need to change your outfit if we’re going to have fun. You attract attention too easily."

He tilted his head slightly, considering that.

"So that’s why we’re going to a boutique?"

I nodded.

We needed to fix one very important problem first.

’Soren’s face.’

More specifically—how recognizable it was.

Because if we took one more step outside like earlier, we weren’t going to "have fun," instead we were going to host another public gathering.

And I was not emotionally prepared to slap him again in front of a bigger audience.

I caught him sneaking glances at me through the rearview mirror every few seconds, like he was waiting for me to either give sudden directions again or launch myself at his neck like an unhinged house cat with anger issues.

I smiled sweetly at him.

He almost missed a turn.

Excellent.

Eventually, the cab slowed to a stop.

We had arrived.

Before I could even hop down, Soren was already moving, stepping out while carrying me.

The moment we entered the boutique, a woman approached us almost immediately, her posture flawless, her smile practiced to perfection.

Laurel.

She bowed gracefully, every movement so smooth it made me feel like a glitchy NPC. "Welcome to Beasté Élegance Boutique."

Her gaze lifted to Soren, and her perfect smile shifted into something slightly more... familiar. "You’re back again General Markhelov."

"Drop the formalities, Laurel," Soren replied, already sounding mildly tired of being respected.

Laurel chuckled, already turning away. "So what brings you here? Same order as usual? All black?" She waved a hand dismissively. "Seriously, you have zero fashion sense."

"Laurel," Soren said, his tone sharpening just a little. "I have a companion with me right now."

So they did know each other.

Laurel paused, turned back around, and only then did she notice me.

"Oh... my apologies," she said quickly, bowing again. "I didn’t notice... your companion."

I stared at her.

Am I invisible? I’m being carried by a very large man. How do you miss that? Do I need to glow? Wear bells? Or set myself on fire?

As she approached, her expression shifted—recognition sparking in her eyes.

"It’s you—"

"NYANG!" I cut in immediately, loudly, aggressively, with the urgency of someone trying to stop a nuclear launch.

Because this?

This was dangerous.

If Soren found out I had been here yesterday—

And that my items had been paid for by a mysterious stranger—

I would not survive the interrogation.

I quickly glanced at Soren, then typed on my OmniSync with the speed of someone trying to erase their criminal record.

"Can you go to the waiting room first? I have something to discuss with Laurel here."

"And what," Soren asked, already suspicious, "would you two be discussing?"

My brain scrambled.

"Your lack of fashion sense!" I typed, nodding at him with full confidence. "Yes. That. We need to pick colors for you that aren’t... funeral-themed."

He stared at me like he was deciding whether to be offended or impressed.

I stared back.

’This was it. This was how I died.’

Then, finally, he set me down. "Be quick."

I nearly collapsed in relief.

Laurel clapped her hands once.

And just like that—poof—three girls appeared out of nowhere like a magical girl group on standby.

Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup.

"Escort our VIP to the waiting room," Laurel instructed.

"Yes, madam," they chimed in unison before leading Soren away.

I watched until he disappeared.

Waited.

Listened.

Made absolutely sure he was gone.

The second they were out of sight, I whipped my head back toward Laurel and started typing like a criminal filing a last-minute plea.

"Please don’t tell Soren I came here yesterday."

Laurel crouched down gracefully in front of me, still somehow elegant even at eye level, and was about to deliver either reassurance... or blackmail.

"Including the part where someone paid for the things you ordered?" she asked, smiling sweetly.

"That too!" I nodded vigorously.

"And the part where you ended up in another lounge and one of my VIPs flirted with you?"

I nodded eagerly—then froze.

Wait.

I shook my head violently.

"Wait—no—YOU’VE MISUNDERSTOOD—" I started typing frantically. "He was suffering from—"

I stopped, slowly looked up at her, and narrowed my eyes. "...How do you know that?"

Laurel raised both hands innocently and then laughed. "Oh, darling," she said, far too amused. "We have security cameras everywhere."

She leaned in slightly.

"Except the dressing rooms, of course."

"Don’t you know the word privacy?" I typed, my toe beans aggressively tapping the screen like I was filing a formal complaint to the universe.

Laurel placed a hand over her chest, looking mildly apologetic—mildly, like someone who forgot to water a plant, not accidentally surveil a person’s entire social downfall.

"I’m sorry, Miss Blanca," she said, tilting her head. "I forgot to turn off the security cameras in the lounges."

She paused, then added—far too playfully—"I promise I didn’t watch everything... only the first thirty seconds."

I froze then slowly, I covered my face.

Because unfortunately, the first thirty seconds were the worst possible thirty seconds she could have witnessed in the history of my existence.

"Don’t be embarrassed, Miss Blanca," Laurel continued, completely unhelpful. "Having multiple husbands or wives is completely normal here."

I peeked at her through my paws and immediately regretted it.

"So," she went on, smiling like she was discussing the weather, "is Soren and the Duke your lover... or husbands already?"

My brain shut down, restarted, and crashed again.

Multiple?

Husbands?

Wives?

What kind of alternate reality DLC did I accidentally unlock?!

"They’re not my boyfriends or husband!" I typed furiously, each word practically screaming.

Laurel raised a perfectly shaped brow. "So... a fling then?"

’EXCUSE ME—’

Before I could even process that accusation, she nodded thoughtfully like she had just solved a complex mystery.

"Well, since the first time I saw you yesterday, you’re really pretty, you can have as many flings as you want," she said, completely serious. "But if you can’t decide who to choose, then just marry all of them!"

I stared at her.

Oh my gosh. Who are you?

Where is the elegant, composed, graceful Laurel who I met yesterday and literally five minutes ago?

Who replaced her with this... this romantic chaos gremlin?

"Please stop thinking that way!" I typed, borderline desperate now. "Soren is my benefactor, and that guy who rudely used me as a stuffed toy is a one-time thing! I’m sure we’ll never meet again!"

Laurel simply shrugged, completely unbothered by my emotional spiral. "Fate works in different ways," she said wisely. "That’s how I met my husbands."

I narrowed my eyes. "...How many husbands do you have anyway?"

She blushed then covered her face shyly. "Seven."

I stared at her blatantly, with absolutely no attempt to hide it.

"Don’t look at me like that," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Other women have at least ten husbands."

’AT LEAST?

What is this, a competitive sport?!’

"But you?" she continued, leaning in slightly like she was about to offer life-changing advice. "You can marry those two and live without worrying about anything."

I inhaled deeply and decided—for the sake of my sanity—that this conversation needed to end before I walked out of here with an accidental harem and a marriage certificate I didn’t sign.

’How did we even get here?’

We started with clothes.

Now we’re discussing collecting husbands like limited-edition items.

I straightened—mentally, because physically I was still small and emotionally compromised—and typed with firm determination:

"Just please keep this a secret."

Laurel’s expression softened into that sweet, professional smile again—the one that made her look trustworthy which was concerning.

"I will," she said gently.

That’s great—

"In exchange for buying from my boutique, of course."

"..."

’Why can I see myself in her?’