Isaac whistled casually as he strolled into the high-end boutique, his eyes darting from one shimmering fabric to another. The store gleamed with spotless glass, polished wood, and mannequins dressed in clothes that screamed wealth. He walked down the aisles of expensive suits and extravagant dresses, looking around with the excitement of a kid in a candy shop.
Trish followed silently behind him, her steps measured, her expression blank as always.
"Would it kill you to at least pretend to be interested?" Isaac grumbled, glancing back at her. He looked like a child showing off a new toy that no one else wanted to see.
Trish tilted her head, her big purple eyes gleaming with innocent curiosity. "...Do you like fancy clothes?"
Her voice carried no mockery, just a straightforward question.
Isaac stopped, scratching his cheek before smirking. "Nah, not really into clothes." He pulled the credit card from his pocket, letting it catch the light. "But free stuff? That's my favorite."
Before Trish could respond, a store worker approached them with the practiced smile of someone used to wealthy customers. "Can I help you, sir? Miss?" he asked politely.
Isaac paused for dramatic effect, then smirked. "Me and my partner here are going to a rather fancy event. We'll need a proper suit and a dress."
"Of course, sir. Right this way." The worker bowed slightly, then guided them toward another section of the boutique. "Here we keep our finest suits. Please, choose what you like."
Isaac brushed his fingers over the fabrics one by one, frowning at some, smirking at others. He finally gathered a few choices in his arms. "I'll try these on," he said, heading toward the changing rooms.
"Of course, sir. The room is just over there." The worker bowed again, pointing.
Isaac paused at the doorway, glancing at Trish still standing motionless in the middle of the shop. "What are you waiting for? Go find something for yourself." His grin widened as he patted his pocket with the card inside. "It's on me."
Trish blinked, momentarily speechless. How could someone be so shameless? she thought, finally moving toward the dress section with reluctant steps.
A few minutes later, Isaac stepped out of the changing room, tugging at the cuffs of a sleek black suit. The jacket was sharp and fitted, hugging his shoulders perfectly, with a subtle dark sheen under the lights. A black tie sat neatly against a crisp shirt, his figure giving off an air that was equal parts dangerous and elegant.
Isaac adjusted his collar with satisfaction—then froze when he heard a commotion from across the store.
He turned his head and spotted Trish. She stood calmly under the spotlight of attention, dressed in a long, flowing purple gown. The fabric shimmered faintly with each movement, a daring slit running along one side that revealed the pale curve of her leg. The dress hugged her slender frame, both modest and striking, enhancing her natural beauty.
In front of her, a middle-aged woman was yelling, pointing an accusing finger at her.
Isaac strode closer, brows furrowed. "What's going on?"
The worker who had helped him looked flustered, bowing repeatedly. "Sir… this… is—"
Before he could finish, the woman snapped, her voice sharp and entitled. "Take that dress off! The young miss wants it. Who do you think you are?"
Isaac shifted his gaze past her, noticing a girl about his age leaning against the wall, scrolling through her phone with utter disinterest. She had short hair and an air of spoiled indifference, clearly the "young miss" in question.
Isaac sighed and turned back to Trish. "Are you done?"
Trish gave a small nod. "I was waiting for you."
"Then let's go." Isaac gestured for the worker to follow, already turning toward the counter.
But before he could take more than two steps, the short-haired girl moved, blocking his path. She lifted her chin arrogantly. "Where do you think you're going? That dress is mine. Do you know who my father is?"
Isaac stared at her silently for a moment, then his lips curved into a bright, innocent smile. The girl's chest tightened unexpectedly at the sight—her heart skipping—while Trish's stomach dropped. She knew that smile. It was a warning.
She reached out to stop him, but it was too late.
"Hmm…" Isaac tilted his head. "I have no idea. I'm pretty sure it's not me though. Try asking your mom—she should probably know."
The entire boutique froze.
Faces drained of color. The middle-aged woman was struck speechless, and even the arrogant girl's mouth opened and closed without sound.
Isaac hummed as though nothing happened and handed the credit card to the stunned worker. "I'll take everything I tried on. And…" he gestured casually at the racks of dresses, "…give me everything from here to there."
The worker, pale but obedient, swiped the card and handed it back with shaking hands.
Isaac lifted his palm, and the vine-like tattoo on his finger glowed faintly. In an instant, the dresses shimmered into threads of light that streamed into the tattoo, vanishing without a trace.
"Awakener…" the short-haired girl whispered, her arrogance cracking into fear.
Isaac grabbed Trish's hand and walked toward the exit, ignoring the gasps that followed him.
Just before stepping through the doors, he turned his head, flashing one last smirk. "Hey… good luck finding your dad."
And with that, he walked out, leaving the store silent and shaken.