The golden morning light filtered through the towering glass windows of the penthouse. Jean stirred beneath the silk sheets, stretching like a lazy cat before sitting up. Her legs slid over the edge of the bed, the cold marble floor kissing her bare feet. With a satisfied sigh, she stood, the evidence of last night's chaos scattered across the sheets and floor—wrinkled clothes, tangled towels, and an overly-enthusiastic maid sleeping with her cheek pressed to the mattress.
"Maki," Jean called softly.
The Japanese girl instantly stirred, blinking awake like a soldier caught dozing on duty. She sat up with a soft wince, rubbing the soreness in her thighs. "Master... I'm awake."
Jean walked to the wardrobe in the corner of the room, not bothering with a robe. Maki followed, a limp still in her step but eyes bright with purpose. As Jean threw open the wardrobe doors, Maki froze, her expression twisting in sheer dismay.
"Master... how can you have such clothes?!"
Jean blinked, confused. "What?"
"These are plain! Offensive to your beauty! How could someone as divine as you dress like a struggling college student?" Maki looked genuinely offended, as if the clothes had personally insulted her ancestors.
Jean paused, eyes narrowing. She took another glance at the wardrobe: mostly jeans, t-shirts, hoodies, some oversized sweatshirts—basic stuff. Practical. Comfortable. Nothing that screamed 'heiress' or 'supernatural bombshell.'
Jean POV: "I guess I never thought too much about it. In my past life, I was a man. Clothes were just... functional. I didn't care about matching tones, learning to walk in high heels, or knowing what contouring even meant. Nail polish? Lip gloss? Those were someone else's world—not mine. But now? I'm in Jean Grey's body. A teenage girl's body in a world that literally rewards power and presence. I can't walk around like a background character. It's time to try."
Jean turned her head to Maki, smirking. "Okay then, let's go shopping. Besides, you need clothes too. Can't have my maid looking like a lost tourist."
Maki's eyes sparkled. "Yes, Master!"
Scene Change – Madison Avenue, New York City
A red Ferrari F430 purred like a beast as it rolled to a slow stop in front of one of Manhattan's most luxurious designer malls. The valet barely had time to blink before Jean tossed him the keys with a flick of her wrist.
"Try not to crash it. I'm very attached," she said dryly.
The young valet gulped, nodding like his life depended on it.
Maki stepped out on the passenger side, now dressed in one of Jean's spare hoodies and a pair of sweatpants two sizes too big. Her eyes scanned the high-end stores like a soldier preparing for war.
"Master," she whispered. "This place... smells expensive."
Jean raised an eyebrow. "It should. Rent here costs more than a college degree."
They entered the first store—Chanel. A tall blonde saleswoman with red lipstick and too much perfume approached like a shark sensing blood in the water.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her tone trying (and failing) not to sound condescending.
"Yes," Jean said, slipping on a pair of oversized sunglasses. "I want your most exclusive pieces. No catalog items. Only what you'd hide from tourists."
The saleswoman's fake smile twitched. "And... do you have a parent with you?"
Maki leaned in to whisper. "Should I break her fingers, Master?"
Jean held back a snort. "No need. I've got this."
She reached into her designer handbag and pulled out a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills. Clean, crisp, and untraceable.
The woman's expression changed instantly—from suspicion to reverence.
"O-of course! Right this way, madam. I'll take you to the private collection."
Thirty Minutes Later
Jean lounged in a plush velvet chair, sipping on complimentary champagne while watching Maki twirl in a high-end Japanese kimono-inspired dress. Jean had already picked out half a dozen pieces for herself: bold, luxurious, and absolutely unapologetic outfits. Some classy, some scandalous, all drop-dead stunning.
"This one, Master?" Maki asked, doing a slow spin.
"Perfect. You look like an assassin hiding in a bridal boutique," Jean replied.
Maki blushed. "Thank you, Master."
Jean grinned. "You know, for a lawyer, you adapt terrifyingly fast."
"Once you've survived being kidnapped by Yakuza, everything else is just mild inconvenience."
They moved on to Louboutin, Versace, and finally Dior. The salespeople tripped over themselves offering gift bags, exclusive previews, and invitations to fashion events.
"You'd think I was royalty," Jean muttered.
"You are to me," Maki said without hesitation.
Jean blinked, then scoffed to hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks.
Later That Day – Penthouse
Shopping bags littered the penthouse floor. Boxes of shoes, glittering jewelry, and designer outfits were stacked like trophies of war. Jean collapsed onto the couch, sighing in pure satisfaction.
Maki was already organizing everything by color and style, moving with the precision of a maid straight out of an anime.
Jean chuckled. "You know, you're kinda scary."
Maki glanced back. "Thank you, Master."
Jean rolled her eyes. "That wasn't a compliment."
"It sounded like one."
Jean leaned her head back, letting her eyes close. "Well... maybe I do like having a psycho bodyguard maid. Just a little."
"Shall I prepare your evening bath?"
Jean sighed. "Yeah, sure. Just... no weird stuff this time."
Maki paused. "Define weird."
Jean threw a pillow at her.
They both laughed.