Chapter 7: Shopping
And of course, she hadn’t forgotten the dating guide’s advice:
To win a man completely, stay calm and clear-headed.
Don’t give nothing, but don’t give everything either.
Especially not your body.
That, she knew, was what Alan would want most.
With her own private rules set in stone, Nozomi Sakura flashed a flawless, confident smile at her reflection, as if victory in this sudden romance was already in her grasp.
A/N: Ignore that.
***
Saturday, 9:29 a.m.
The minute hand on Nozomi Sakura’s watch crept toward the mark.
She had already been standing in front of the school gates for over an hour and a half.
Mid-October should have meant the gentle arrival of autumn, cooler air, kinder skies. Instead, the sun showed her no mercy at all.
She stood alone beneath a tree, parasol raised, an impossible figure to ignore, especially after all the effort she had put into her makeup. Passersby slowed unconsciously, casting second glances her way, drawn by the quiet elegance she carried even while standing still.
On any other day, Nozomi would have pretended not to notice, secretly indulging in the attention. Today was different.
Sweat slid down her forehead, clinging to her carefully curled brows until she had to blink hard to clear her vision. Strands of golden hair stuck to her cheeks; she dabbed at her skin gently with a tissue, terrified of ruining her flawless makeup.
She maintained her goddess-like smile, serene and perfect. But inside, she had cursed Alan more times than she could count.
Any man who couldn’t show up on time for a date was hopeless. Utterly clueless about romance. Destined for a loveless, solitary life. That jerk!
Unforgivable.
Then, just as the minute hand clicked to 9:30 a.m., a sedan rolled to a smooth stop directly in front of her.
Beep.
The window slid down, revealing Alan’s face.
“Get in,” he said simply.
Nozomi inclined her head and climbed into the passenger seat with practiced grace. Once inside, she glanced around, and blinked in surprise. The interior was refined, understated, expensive in a way that didn’t scream for attention.
She swallowed the question Is this your car? and turned to Alan instead, releasing the smile she had rehearsed countless times in front of the mirror.
“Good morning, Alan.”
Alan studied her for a moment, then reached for a tissue and gently wiped away the beads of sweat trapped along her forehead.
“You’ve been waiting long?”
“Not really.”
She shook her head lightly, as if it were nothing at all.
In her mind, she screamed: Yes, I’ve been waiting! If it weren’t for your money, I would’ve dumped you on the spot! At least apologize, you jerk.
Alan’s gaze lingered a second longer. Framed by long lashes, her flushed cheeks glowed softly. Her eyes, pure yet gentle, seemed capable of pulling people into their depths. Any ordinary man sitting this close would already be losing his composure.
Alan did not.
He hadn’t believed the act for a second.
Even Akari Hojo—the sweet-tempered rising star he’d once dated—would have sulked if she’d been kept waiting this long. She would’ve demanded something more than an empty apology.
She'd say something like, "Words aren’t enough. Show me you mean it."
Still, Nozomi’s performance pleased him well enough.
“Good,” he said calmly. “Arriving early is a good habit. Keep it up.”
“Of course~”
Her eyes curved into perfect crescents, but her hands, hidden in her lap, were clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms.
Inside, she cursed him all over again.
“Fasten your seatbelt.”
“Um… where are we going?”
“To let you meet another version of yourself.”
Alan smiled faintly. Before she could ask what he meant, he stepped on the gas.
---
“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.
