"Your face is burning."
Alain pressed the back of his hand to Misha's forehead, testing her temperature. It was definitely warm, far too warm to be normal. He waited for a response, but after a moment of silence, he glanced over at her. Even her earlobes were flushed a bright, vivid red.
"I-I'm fine... There's no fever mechanic in the game, you know." Her voice was a little shaky.
"But this is reality, Misha."
"I told you, I'm fine..."
Misha had clearly shut down the conversation. Alain decided not to push it. But as he walked, he couldn't help stealing glances at her rosy cheeks. A small, almost mischievous smile tugged at his lips.
So cute. I want to tease her just a little.
"Your face is so red, darling," he said, his voice dropping to a playful murmur, "Could it be... you've fallen for me?"
He continued to hold Misha's hand, leading her towards the entrance of a clothing store. His eyes scanned the displays, already mentally picking out styles that might suit her.
Misha didn't answer. Behind him, the girl stared at his back, a strange, almost unfocused light shimmering in her usually dark blue eyes. Her pink lips parted slightly, then closed, then opened again, and a whisper escaped:
"Maybe... a little..."
Alain's steps faltered. He stopped just inside the store's entrance.
What did I just hear?
He turned slowly, his gaze locking onto Misha's. The bright, cool light from the mall's ceiling illuminated her skin, making it seem almost translucent. The blush on her cheeks deepened the delicate beauty of her face, turning her into a living work of art.
For a fleeting moment, their eyes met, a spark passing between them. Then, Misha quickly averted her gaze, pretending to be intensely interested in a rack of brightly colored scarves.
"Which... which outfit should I choose?" she asked, her voice a little too loud, a little too bright.
And then, her hand tightened around his, sending a jolt, a tiny electric shock, straight through Alain's heart.
"..."
I was going to take you clothes shopping, but you're trying to steal my heart instead, huh?
The silent accusation hung in the air, unspoken.
They moved further into the store, each drifting towards different racks of clothing, a strange, unspoken tension simmering between them. The silence was broken only by the soft rustle of fabric and the distant murmur of other shoppers.
But their hands remained clasped, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken words.
As they moved past the displays, Alain noticed Misha stealing quick, furtive glances at him.
[Alain, can you please say something? This is incredibly awkward...] Her eyes practically screamed the message at him.
He returned her look, a silent reply passing between them. [Who told you to say that? You didn't give me any warning.]
[I was joking.] Her eyes flickered away, a tell.
[If you want me to believe that, try not to look so guilty.]
[I-I'm not looking guilty...]
Their gazes darted back and forth, a silent, rapid-fire conversation unfolding in the space between them. A nearby shop assistant, observing them, saw only a young couple, deeply in love, their eyes filled with affection.
Are these two... actually going to buy anything? the assistant wondered, a mix of amusement and exasperation swirling within her.
After a moment's hesitation, she decided to approach. "Excuse me," she said, her voice polite but firm, "Is there anything I can help you two with?"
Both Alain and Misha turned towards her, their expressions radiating a surprising, almost comical level of gratitude.
"???"
The assistant had initially felt a pang of guilt for interrupting their seemingly intimate moment. Now, she was utterly bewildered. Why are they thanking me? she thought. Young people these days... I just don't understand them.
"Darling, you should talk to her," Misha said, her voice regaining some of its composure. "We're shopping for your clothes this time."
"No, I don't have many clothes in the game, and my fashion sense is... lacking," Alain replied, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone. "So, darling, could you help me choose?"
"..."
The shop assistant watched this exchange in silent bewilderment. Why are they deferring to each other again? And honestly, the constant "darling" was starting to give her a headache.
Then, a thought struck her. College students these days were quite... forward. And she'd heard that getting a marriage certificate could even earn them extra credit.
So... these two, perhaps they aren't just a couple, but actually husband and wife?
"How about," she said, addressing them with a newfound formality, "I introduce some items to you, sir and madam?"
"Okay."
Alain was momentarily confused by the sudden change in address. He glanced at Misha, who looked equally perplexed.
Oh well, he thought, as long as it moves us past that awkward moment, it's fine.
A sudden, mischievous thought flashed through his mind. If that wicked woman were here, and saw what just happened between Misha and me... she'd probably be furious, right?
He imagined her: Crying, sulking, biting a handkerchief in frustration. A picture formed, complete with a .jpg extension.
So cute.
While he was lost in this amusing daydream, the shop assistant had already begun enthusiastically pointing out various garments on the rack to Misha.
The dark-blue-haired girl listened attentively, occasionally reaching out to touch the fabric, pulling items out for closer inspection. She seemed perfectly composed, not at all flustered by interacting with a stranger.
Alain felt a wave of relief. He also had a growing suspicion. Misha probably isn't comfortable with the attention of large crowds in the real world when she's relaxed. But if she enters her "working" mode, she becomes decisive and incredibly efficient.
Perhaps it was also because "Mitas in the game, always interacts one-on-one."
"Okay, I think this will do, thank you," Misha said, bowing her head slightly to the shop assistant in a gesture of polite respect. The assistant, caught off guard by the unexpected formality, felt a flush of warmth.
"Hehe, madam, you're too kind," she replied, gesturing towards a fitting room. "This is your size. Please try it on. The fitting room is to your right."
"Okay."
Alain watched as Misha, after a brief conversation with the shop assistant, gathered the chosen clothes and headed towards the fitting room.
But just before she disappeared inside, the shop assistant caught his eye, her expression shifting to one of knowing amusement. "Madam," she said, her voice low and conspiratorial, "you are truly fortunate."
"...?"
Misha, puzzled by the assistant's cryptic remark, followed her gaze. She found Alain looking at her, his eyes lingering.
And from Alain's perspective, Misha seemed to have exchanged a few words with the shop assistant, and then her gaze had turned towards him.
Their eyes met once more, a fleeting connection. The blush returned to Misha's cheeks, and she quickly ducked into the fitting room, as if seeking refuge.
"..."
Alain wanted to protest, What did I do this time?
"Excuse me, please move."
A sharp voice broke through his thoughts. Beside him, a female customer was waiting impatiently, her expression a mixture of annoyance and disdain – the look of someone who clearly thought a man had no business lingering in a women's clothing store.
Alain suddenly realized that, without Misha by his side, he was, indeed, out of place. He was like Shido Itsuka, attempting to capture Yoshino without the benefit of a disguise, in the middle of a women's clothing store.
He quickly moved to a spot near Misha's fitting room, deciding to wait for her there.
"Misha," he called softly, "If you need anything, just let me know."
"Ah, Alain. Perfect timing. Could you hand me the first belt on the rack to your left? I want to try it on with this outfit."
"Belt..."
He looked to his left, locating a selection of belts. He picked up the first one and walked over to the fitting room, knocking gently on the curtain.
A slender, pale arm emerged from within, quickly taking the belt from his hand.
The faint, delicate scent of Misha's perfume lingered in the air for only a moment before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
But Alain had seen it clearly. Misha usually wears long sleeves, he thought. I rarely see her arms exposed.
And, as expected of a classic beautiful girl, her arms were as delicate and perfectly formed as those of a heroine in a pure love visual novel.
"Um... Alain, it feels a little chilly in here. Are you perhaps thinking about something... inappropriate?"
"..."
Alain felt a prickle of unease, a strange tingling sensation on his scalp. The level of unspoken understanding between him and Misha was almost unnerving.
____
THE >>>DIRECTOR<<<< IS GOING CRAZYYYY! 🤪
CRAZY DEAL ALERT! 🚨 This week only: For every 5! >FIVE!< new reviews... ONE EXTRA CHAPTER will be released! Yes! EXTRAAA! 🎉
(See? I'm honestly such a great director, aren't I? 😉)
Don't miss out! Don't miss out!
💖✨ patreon.com/Walnutchan ✨💖 <- 40 advanced chapters!