"To meet another version of yourself..."

Hours later, Nozomi finally understood.

Alan drove them to one of the largest malls in central Tokyo, guiding her straight to a boutique on the seventh floor. The moment she stepped before the entrance, Nozomi halted instinctively.

Even standing outside, bathed in warm golden light and surrounded by quiet elegance, she could feel the difference.

The shops she usually visited with friends were crowded and loud, mannequins lining the sidewalks, racks overflowing with clothes packed shoulder to shoulder.

This place was the opposite.

Every display was curated with meticulous care.

A white sundress stood before her. To highlight its youthful charm, the mannequin was bathed in soft illumination. Pale gold shimmered across the skirt, sky-blue crystals sparkling like droplets of water. A gentle breeze within the display caused the hem to sway, creating an image of pure, graceful youth.

One glance was enough to make passersby imagine, How would I look in that?

I don’t belong here.

The thought surfaced unbidden. She hadn’t even checked the price tag, yet a wave of inferiority washed over her, urging her to turn around and flee.

Before she could, Alan caught her wrist and led her inside.

The carved glass door closed behind them with a soft thud, releasing a faint, crisp fragrance into the air. A well-dressed saleswoman with striking features hurried over, her smile radiant.

"Welcome!"

Nozomi stared blankly as Alan spoke with easy familiarity. She had no idea what expression she was supposed to wear; all the preparation she’d done at home evaporated instantly.

She followed him like a doll, acutely aware of the saleswoman’s gaze sweeping over her again and again. Even the clerk seemed more refined than she was.

"May I ask your size?"

"Uh—"

Nozomi blinked, snapping out of her daze. Before she could answer, Alan spoke up.

"Eighty-eight, sixty, eighty-eight."

The clerk glanced at him briefly, then nodded and noted it down.

"Very good. Thank you."

Nozomi’s eyes widened. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she turned her face away, avoiding the clerk’s knowing smile.

You jerk... when did you memorize my measurements? Since when were you watching me? How much do you even like me, anyway?

She’d dismissed Akane Mia’s claim that Alan had a crush on her as nonsense. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

This guy might be tad... obsessed.

Before she could spiral further, the clerk gestured ahead.

"This way, sir. Miss, please try this style."

A stream of polished praise followed, how the cut suited her figure, how the color complemented her complexion. A minute later, Nozomi found herself inside a fitting room, still dazed.

When she stepped out and saw her reflection, her lips curved upward so sharply that even an AK-47 couldn’t have forced them flat.

She was radiant.

Nozomi didn’t actually enjoy changing outfits. What she loved was seeing a new version of herself. New clothes meant a new self, nothing more complicated than that.

But the thrill didn’t last.

Before long, her smile faded, replaced by the same deadpan expression she’d worn when glaring at Alan two days earlier. Her ankles ached, especially behind her knees. The novelty had worn off.

Alan was insane.

From ten in the morning until one in the afternoon, they moved from store to store, outfit after outfit. She’d changed so many times she felt sick of it.

Worse still, he bought everything she looked pretty in.

She peeked at the receipts, none of them under a hundred thousand yen. Her head spun.

A quick mental tally told her the damage easily exceeded a million. She winced. If he’d handed her that cash directly, she could’ve wiped out her debt entirely.

Still, she had to admit, he had an eye.

Everything he chose fit her as though it had been tailored to her body. Casual knits, airy sundresses, slinky evening gowns that screamed wealth and poise.

Youthful. Sexy. Gentle. Regal.

She tried on every possible version of herself.

The woman in the mirror barely felt real, so polished she startled herself. The scarlet mermaid gown clung to every curve, transforming her 165-centimeter frame into something statuesque once paired with stilettos. It felt as though the dress had been made for her alone.

Then her gaze caught the turquoise streak at the end of her blonde hair.

Ugly. Cheap.

Even jet-black dye would’ve looked better than this garish highlight.

Shame flooded her chest. She nearly bolted for the restroom, imagining herself hacking the offending lock off with manicure scissors. How had she never noticed how awful it looked before? Was her taste really that bad?

"After lunch, we’ll stop by a salon," Alan said quietly.

Nozomi blinked, pulled back from her spiral. She turned to see him leaning against the display wall—blue jeans, white shirt, unruly hair falling naturally. Not strikingly handsome, but comfortably above average. Easy to look at.

Can he read minds?

His expression was calm, almost gentle. The same steady presence that had bulldozed her earlier now wrapped around her like a blanket. Every insecurity she’d tried to hide, he’d already seen, and answered.

Has he ever had a girlfriend before? she wondered.