"Hmm. What to do? What to do? Isn't this a bit too flashy?"
That was Song's lingering thought.
He was dressed in a fitted black turtleneck with matching trousers and dark boots. Draped over it was a navy-blue coat that fell neatly to his knees. Whoever had designed it had clearly taken his role as an Archer into account because twin holsters were secured at his sides, perfectly aligned for his handguns.
The ensemble, paired with his ink-blue hair, elevated him from the ordinary into something almost otherworldly. The transformation stared back at him in the mirror.
It was stark, utterly undeniable.
Still, a nagging thought remained. The outfit felt excessive and too conspicuous for his liking. Something this striking would inevitably draw eyes, and attention was the last thing he wanted.
Yet, at the same time, he couldn't deny it was perfect. Every detail was worth the money he had spent, perhaps even more.
And so he found himself caught in a quiet dilemma: should he embrace the flashly outfit, or retreat back into something plain and forgettable?
His hand hovered near the coat's lapel, tugging lightly at the fabric. The way it swayed with even the smallest movement made him look like someone important or perhaps someone who belonged in the spotlight. That thought alone unsettled him greatly.
"No… that's not me," he muttered under his breath.
Suddenly, a strange voice echoed from behind him.
"Oh my… what do we have here?♪ Dear customer, I trust the attire is to your liking?♪"
Song's head snapped around.
The speaker stepped into view at the edge of his vision, and his appearance was nothing short of strange. He looked to be in his early twenties, yet stood a full head taller than Nightingale. This was an impressive feat, considering Song's own height of 180 centimeters was already well above average for his age.
But that wasn't the strangest part.
The man was dressed like a noble from another era. A long, velvet coat of deep crimson hung from his shoulders, embroidered with intricate golden patterns. A ruffled white shirt peeked from beneath, paired with tailored trousers that carried the same air of refinement. Every detail spoke of wealth and class, but also of a style that had no business existing in the present day whatsoever.
His pale skin contrasted sharply with the purple waves of hair that fell past his shoulders, and his smile was as polished as it was unsettling. What drew Sonny's attention most, however, were his face or rather, the woman makeup he had applied on his face.
"My, my… it fits you better than I imagined," the man continued, his tone laced with a singsong cadence that seemed to mock as much as it praised. "Almost as if it were made for you… though perhaps it was."
Song narrowed his eyes, taking a subtle step back.
'Who the hell is this guy?'
The stranger tilted his head, as though reading the thought straight from his mind.
"Oh, don't look at me like that. I'm merely the tailor of your little metamorphosis. A humble artisan, if you will."
His grin widened.
"But… not every customer can wear my work so convincingly. You, however... ah, you might be something special. How curious!"
Is that right? Um... thanks I guess. Also, stop speaking like that, would you? God damnit! Sonny thought as he gritted his teeth.
Presumably, the man standing before him went by the name Aurelian — the supposed owner of "Nocturne Enterprise," the most renowned clothing house in the city, celebrated for its extravagant and unconventional designs. Popular singers, celebrities, and even politicians flocked to him like lost lambs. His influence stretched far beyond local borders, with branches established in America, China, Japan, and Africa.
A man of such stature was easily among the richest in the world, perhaps even the richest.
Even so, Nightingale's impression of him was far less flattering. To his eyes, Aurelian looked like the sort of man who preyed upon young boys like himself. There was no concrete reason for the suspicion, just a certain feeling that nagged at him, and he didn't like it one bit.
If Christopher hadn't recommended ordering a custom-made outfit here, he wouldn't even be standing in this room.
'Maybe he's not like that at all… and I'm just being paranoid. Still, how am I supposed to let my guard down around someone like this? Look at his face! Look at his face! How am I supposed to trust a man who wears makeup like that?!'
Concluding that thought, Song decided it was best to stay on guard, masking his emotions behind an expressionless face. Then, he responded to the man's earlier question:
"Well… I suppose it's better than most garments I've seen. Flashy, yet somehow restrained."
Aurelian's smile widened, almost predatory in its subtlety.
"Ah… restrained, you say? Perhaps that is correct. Truth be told, this attire was the simplest among my glorious creations. However…" He clicked his tongue with exaggerated bitterness. "I loathe the mundane! Simplicity is weakness! Anything overly plain lacks soul. The very act of crafting something so wretched fills my heart with chaos and dismay!"
Then, as abruptly as it appeared, his smile returned.
"But the customer knows best, does he not? The voice of the customer is law. In that sense, modesty seems to suit your style. How… curious indeed!"
Song maintained his expressionless face, though the man's sudden shifts in mood were grating.
'Chaos and dismay, huh? This guy sounds like he crawled straight out of a theater play. What next? Is he going to say I'm his Romeo?'
Aurelian circled him slowly, eyes glittering with something between fascination and hunger. Then he clasped his hands behind his back.
"Do you know, clothing is more than fabric and thread. It is a mirror. A prophecy. It tells the world not only what you are, but what you might become."
Nightingale frowned.
Prophecy? Now he's a fortune-teller too?
The man leaned in ever so slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"And you, dear customer… I see someone who does not yet understand the stage he has stepped onto."
Song resisted the urge to recoil. He could feel the intensity of Aurelian's gaze prying deeper than he liked.
All I wanted was a damn coat! Was that too much to ask?! What's with this harassment?!
Unable to contain himself any longer, Nightingale gritted his teeth and snapped,
"How much for the coat, sir?!"
At once, the spark of excitement in Aurelian's eyes dimmed, perhaps the tease had run its course. Either way, the peculiar man straightened his posture, his grin returning to a controlled, composed smile as he replied:
"Ah… the coat!♪" Aurelian's voice rang out, rich and melodious, as if he were announcing a royal decree. He raised a hand to his chest, fingers splayed dramatically. "For one such as you… a mere trifle, really. Only... ah... one thousand, five hundred dollars."
Lu Song froze mid-breath.
"What?! $1500 dollars? For a piece of cloth no less?! Isn't that insane?!"
Then he glared at him.
Aurelian tilted his head, letting the question linger like a delicate perfume. A faint chuckle escaped him as he began pacing around Sonny again, savoring the reaction as though it were a fine wine.
"Insane? Oh, no, dear customer… one could call it a modest sum for a creation such as this. Every stitch… every fold… every thread… infused with artistry and intent!" He gestured grandly toward the coat. "Allow me to share a little secret. Most people don't know this, but there exists a certain young beauty with the power to enchant anything she touches. Haven't you already noticed how the garment you wear… feels… different?"
"…"
Song remained silent. Come to think of it, there was a strange aura about the coat, a faint sense of familiarity he couldn't place. But he couldn't begin to guess where or from whom it came.
It wasn't rare for Espers with unusual abilities to appear. Those with great utility abilities were even more valued by humanity.
An Esper that can enchant objects? No wonder this guy became so popular?! Wait, why is he telling me his most important secret?! Sonny thought with growing suspicion.
But there was nothing he could do. What choice did he really have? And more importantly… how was he supposed to stomach that ridiculous price?
…Well, perhaps there was something he could try.
Summoning every shred of courage, Lu Song leveled a bold, slightly unsettling grin at Aurelian.
"How about… we talk about a discount?"
Now, it was the man's turn to frown.