If waking up in a novel was a shock, opening the wardrobe was a tragedy.
Elian stood in front of the massive walk-in closet, his jaw dropping to the floor. He had expected luxury. He had expected style.
What he found was a fashion crime scene.
"Neon green leather pants?"
Elian picked up the offending item with two fingers, holding it away from him like it was radioactive.
"Spiked chokers? A shirt that says 'I'm the King' in glitter?"
He threw the shirt on the floor.
"Who dressed this body? A colorblind peacock?"
Elian sighed, rubbing his temples. The original owner of this body, Elian Sterling, was desperate for attention. He wore loud, flashy, and aggressive clothes to hide his insecurities. But the new Elian didn't need to shout to be heard. He wanted peace. He wanted comfort.
And most importantly, he wanted to look like a human being, not a disco ball.
"Trash," Elian declared. "It's all trash."
He grabbed a large black garbage bag from the kitchen and went to work.
Rip. Toss. Slam.
Expensive designer jackets? Trash.
Limited edition studded boots? Trash.
Anything that sparkled? Immediate trash.
Within an hour, the closet was empty.
Five large bags sat by the door, filled with thousands of dollars worth of terrible fashion.
Elian stood in the middle of the empty room, wearing the only normal thing he could find—a simple white bathrobe.
"Great," he muttered. "Now I'm naked. I need to go shopping."
An hour later, a sleek black car pulled up to the city's most exclusive luxury mall, The Royal Plaza.
Elian stepped out. He was wearing a plain grey hoodie and sweatpants he had found at the bottom of a drawer—likely gym clothes the original Elian never used. He wore a black mask and sunglasses to hide his face.
Rules of Survival #3: Stay Invisible,
he reminded himself.
He walked into a high-end boutique called 'Ciel', known for its soft fabrics and elegant designs.
"Welcome," a sales assistant said, her tone polite but disinterested. She saw Elian's baggy hoodie and assumed he was just a window shopper.
Elian didn't care. He walked straight to the "New Arrivals" section.
His fingers brushed against the fabrics. Cashmere. Silk. Soft cotton.
"This," Elian whispered, his eyes sparkling behind his sunglasses. "This is what life should feel like."
He grabbed a fluffy cream-colored oversized sweater. Then a pair of beige trousers. A soft blue cardigan. A white silk shirt.
He didn't look at the price tags. He was a Sterling, after all. He had the "Sub-Villain" Black Card, and he intended to use it.
"I'd like to try these," Elian said, his voice soft and melodic.
The sales assistant blinked. Even though she couldn't see his face, his voice sounded... beautiful.
"R-Right this way, sir."
Elian entered the changing room and locked the door.
He took off the sunglasses and the mask. He looked in the mirror and sighed in relief. The violet eyes staring back at him looked happy.
He pulled on the cream sweater. It was soft, warm, and slightly too big for him. The sleeves covered his hands, leaving only his fingers visible. The beige trousers hugged his waist perfectly but remained loose and comfortable around his legs.
He looked at himself.
Gone was the gothic clown.
In his place stood a boy who looked like he had fallen from a cloud. Soft. Fragile. Ethereal.
"Much better," Elian smiled.
He unlocked the door and stepped out.
"I'll take these, and also the—"
Elian stopped.
The entire store had gone silent.
The sales assistant dropped the shirt she was holding. Another customer near the counter stopped drinking her coffee.
Everyone was staring at him.
His mask was off. His sunglasses were in his hand.
His Violet Eyes were on full display.
"Oh my god," someone whispered. "Is that an idol?"
"Look at his eyes... are they real?"
"He looks like an angel."
Elian flinched. Oh no. I forgot to put the mask back on.
His ears turned a bright shade of red. He wasn't used to people staring at him with admiration.
In his past life, people looked at him with pity. In the novel, people looked at him with disgust.
But this? This was awe.
"Um," Elian fidgeted with his sweater paws, looking down shyly. "Can I... can I pay, please?"
The sales assistant snapped out of her trance. Her face turned red. "Y-Yes! Of course! Right this way, sir!"
She rushed to the counter, her hands shaking slightly as she scanned the items.
"You... you look wonderful, sir."
Elian blinked, surprised by the genuine compliment. A small, shy smile bloomed on his face.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Crash.
The customer who was drinking coffee dropped her cup. The smile was too potent.
Elian quickly paid, grabbed his bags, and practically ran out of the store, putting his sunglasses back on.
Note to self, Elian thought as he hurried back to his car, his heart pounding. My face is dangerous. Use with caution.
He sat in the back of the car, surrounded by bags of new, soft clothes. He felt accomplished. He felt happy.
Buzz.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
Elian pulled it out. A text message popped up on the screen. The name on the contact was "Brother Declan" (The scary CEO brother).
Elian's blood ran cold.
[Brother Declan]: Mom says you're finally awake. Dinner at the Main Mansion. 7:00 PM. Don't be late. And don't wear that clown makeup, or I won't let you in.
Elian stared at the screen.
The Family Dinner.
The first major event.
The place where the original Elian usually threw a tantrum and made everyone hate him.
Elian looked at his new reflection in the car window.
"Well," he took a deep breath. "I guess it's time to meet the family."