Chapter 32: A Public Spectacle and a Dramatic Rescue

“This is the very first time he has personally selected his own clothing. He is likely quite anxious, so please take extra care of him.”

With those soft words, the handsome gentleman discreetly slid a generous tip into the clerk’s palm.

The attendant was momentarily stunned by the man’s smooth, considerate gesture. While he certainly didn’t claim to know every gigolo in the realm, he had never once encountered one who demonstrated genuine, thoughtful concern for his wealthy patron. Their interaction felt far less like a predatory scam and more like a deeply attentive, caring relationship.

‘Did I… misjudge them entirely?’

If he had reduced a perfectly legitimate couple to a greedy parasite and a naive mark simply because of their stark difference in wealth, the fault lay squarely on his own prejudice, and he owed them a silent apology.

While the attendant wrestled with his inner guilt, the fitting room curtain shifted. Simon peeked his head out from behind the fabric, unable to bring himself to step fully into the room. His face was a adorable mix of embarrassment and shy panic.

Come to think of it, he did mention this was his first time picking out his own clothes. The clerk knew that exact feeling all too well. It dragged up memories of his childhood, standing beside his mother to buy his very first formal suit—the crushing blow to one’s confidence when wearing unfamiliar attire, compounded by the sheer embarrassment of feeling every eye in the store locked onto you.

“Whenever you are ready, step right out so I can check the fit for you, sir,” the clerk offered gently, extending an encouraging hand to help Simon bridge the gap.

Simon stepped out with hesitant, nervous steps. The light beige coat possessed a tailored waistline that beautifully accentuated his tall, slender frame.

“Does it… look strange?” Simon asked, his expression verging on tears.

“Not at all. It suits you wonderfully.”

Clint broke into a broad grin, giving him a firm thumbs-up. Gathering courage from the detective’s enthusiastic response, Simon awkwardly turned to admire his reflection in the mirror. A soft, relaxed smile gradually settled onto his face.

Watching the pair, the attendant couldn’t help but smile warmly. The wholesome atmosphere was so contagious it coaxed a genuine chuckle from his lips. They looked for all the world like a baby duck taking its very first dip in the water, championed by an overly proud mother duck. They were a utterly charming pair—so much so that he felt thoroughly ashamed of his initial misjudgment.

“Would you care to try another? This particular cut is exceptionally popular this season.”

Driven by a desire to make amends, the clerk threw himself into pulling an exquisite array of options for Simon.

“It looks splendid. Try it on,” Clint added, joining in with clear delight.

Simon dutifully retreated into the fitting room to change once more.

“Given his pale complexion, what do you think of this soft pastel yellow?”

“Hmm, it’s quite charming, but I believe a pale sky-blue would suit him better. After all, he is no longer a young boy.”

While Simon changed inside, Clint and the clerk debated animatedly over what ensemble to dress him in next. The elaborate dress-up game centered around Simon stretched on for a considerable time.

Though he had been terribly shy at first, Simon eventually threw himself into the process entirely. By the end, he was striding out of the fitting room with dramatic flair, spinning around to showcase the cut, and striking confident poses for his audience.

“Thank you for your business, gentlemen! Do have a wonderful day!”

The attendant offered a beaming, bow-filled farewell as Simon and Clint finally stepped out of the boutique.

“I had no idea changing clothes could be so utterly exhausting…”

Simon looked completely drained, as though his very soul had been leached out of him. The overly enthusiastic clerk had urged him to try on coat after coat, layering vest upon vest, until Simon had completely lost count of how many outfits he had worn.

Clint had finalized the purchases, though Simon was so dazed he wasn’t even entirely sure what had been bought. Because the garments required minor tailored alterations, the store agreed to deliver the completed wardrobe directly to the Grayan estate.

Yet despite the exhaustion, Simon loved every single piece they had chosen. He found himself genuinely looking forward to the day he could wear them out. Selecting and purchasing something purely because I love it… so this is what that joy feels like. It was a simple, mundane happiness for most, but for Simon, it was a brand-new revelation.

“It was quite fun, though, wasn’t it?”

“…Yes. It truly was.”

With a rosy, vibrant flush dusting his cheeks, Simon looked every bit like a healthy, normal young nobleman his age.

‘It’s a pity I didn’t get to turn Clint into my personal dress-up doll, though…’

While Simon was occupied in the fitting room, Clint had quietly changed into a fresh ensemble himself. This time, he wore a subtle navy suit draped beneath a crisp white overcoat. The coat featured a tailored belt pulled tight around his waist, creating a strikingly handsome silhouette that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean frame like a fine painting. When a man that exceptionally attractive deliberately dressed to impress, he naturally drew the eyes of every single passerby on the avenue. That intense public scrutiny inevitably extended directly to Simon as well.

At this very moment, the two of them were undeniably the most eye-catching figures in the entire shopping district.

“It would be absolute perfection if someone we knew happened to spot us right about now,” Clint mused, feeling the stage wasn’t quite set enough.

“The odds of running into an acquaintance so conveniently are quite low. I hardly know anyone to begin with…”

Just then—

“Simon Grayan?”

What on earth? An acquaintance actually appeared?!

Surprised, Simon turned toward the voice.

Stepping away from a group of gentlemen standing further down the street, a man called out his name. He bore a look of utter astonishment, as if encountering Simon in such a place was the last thing he expected, but his face quickly melted into a broad, welcoming smile as he approached. His name was Elon Kendell—Anise’s elder brother.

“Well, look who it is! If it isn’t my future brother-in-law!”

Elon dramatically spread his arms, bounding toward Simon and pulling him into an over-the-top, theatrical hug. Simon used every ounce of his willpower to keep his face from twisting in distaste.

‘Ugh… of all the people to run into, it had to be Elon.’

As a member of Anise’s immediate family, he was technically the ideal spectator to witness Simon’s public affair, but Elon himself was thoroughly unpleasant. Though Simon had known him for as long as he had known Anise, they had never been close. During their childhood, Elon had constantly mocked and bullied Simon for his fragile health. Now that they were adults, he acted as though none of that had ever happened, aggressively flaunting their connection whenever it suited him. He was a person Simon desperately preferred to avoid.

“It has been far too long, Simon! You haven’t still been cooped up in that mansion of yours, have you? A man needs to get out, walk around, and mingle!”

“…I am managing just fine on my own.”

“Let me introduce you to my friends! Come over here, gentlemen!”

Ignoring Simon entirely, Elon loudly beckoned his companions over. The group of gentlemen who had been watching from a distance shuffled over in a body. Simon didn’t recognize a single face. Though he rarely attended social gatherings, Dalton had dragged him to a few high-society parties over the years. These men were entirely absent from those circles—an utterly unfamiliar crowd.

“These are my close business partners. We’re launching a venture with incredible vision—I’ll have to pitch it to you sometime soon!”

“What happened to the venture you mentioned last time?”

“Ah, well… we moved past that one.”

It failed miserably, Simon thought instantly. It was completely predictable. Elon was notorious for throwing himself into doomed business ventures and crashing out, a habit that caused Anise endless stress.

“And gentlemen, this is Simon Grayan! My future brother-in-law! We’re practically brothers! I’m sure I don’t need to explain the prestige of the Grayan estate to any of you, do I?”

Elon puffed out his chest, boasting as if he owned the Grayan name himself. Simon offered nothing more than a polite, barely perceptible nod. Elon’s companions scanned Simon from head to toe, their evaluative, condescending glares instantly grating on Simon’s nerves.

“I heard he was practically on his deathbed, but he looks perfectly fine to me?”

“Ahaha! Oh, ignore him, Simon, he’s just a wicked teaser!”

Elon and his friends burst into raucous laughter at the remark. Simon’s expression hardened, his pleasant mood crashing straight to the floor.

‘I need to get out of here immediately.’

Simon possessed one ultimate, foolproof method for escaping deeply uncomfortable situations: feigning a sudden medical episode. Just as he prepared to force out a dramatic, breathless cough, a warm arm wrapped securely around his shoulder. Clint, who had been standing quietly behind him, stepped firmly into the light.

“Darling… who are these absolute morons?”

Clint’s voice was dripping with sickening, honeyed affection. Simon’s mouth fell wide open. Elon looked equally stunned—having been raised in comfortable nobility, he had likely never had a vulgar insult thrown directly in his face before.

“C-Clint…?”

“Did my ears just deceive me…? What is he talking about, darling? Are you getting married? Leaving me behind?! After you swore I was the only one you would ever love in this lifetime, you’re getting married?!”

Clint put on a masterpiece of a brokenhearted performance. Even though Simon knew with absolute certainty that it was an act, the intense, yearning tenderness in Clint’s eyes made his own heart ache, pulling him straight into the emotion of the scene.

“No! Absolutely not! I’m not getting married! I told you, I’m breaking off the engagement!”

Driven by sheer instinct, Simon threw himself into soothing the detective with everything he had.

“Break! Off! Right?! You’re not marrying her, are you?! You’re going to break it off?!”

“Yes! You are the only one for me!”

“Darling…! You are the only one for me, too!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the two men threw their arms around each other in a fierce, dramatic embrace. Confronted by this sudden, intensely passionate display of affection between two men, Elon’s brain completely short-circuited. Clint didn’t miss the opening for a single second.

“Shall we return home? I desperately want to be alone with you, my love.”

“Me too.”

Hand in hand, Clint and Simon turned on their heels, making a swift, synchronized escape down the street and leaping into an empty carriage before anyone could react. Though they hadn’t rehearsed a single line, their improvised chemistry had been absolute perfection.

As the carriage rattled away into the distance, Elon’s friends finally snapped out of their shock and swarmed around him.

“Hey, Elon! You swore you were tying your family to the Grayan fortune! This is completely different from what you promised us!”

“What the hell is going on?! We invested in this business venture entirely on your word!”

Faced with their frantic interrogation, Elon began sweating profusely.

‘What on earth just happened?!’

Elon tried his best to calm his furious companions while staring blankly at the receding carriage. The entire incident had unfolded so fast his mind was still reeling. Yet one word echoed with terrifying, crystal clarity in his mind: Break off. Simon had explicitly spoken of breaking off the engagement.

‘I cannot let that happen under any circumstances!’

Elon resolved to seek out Anise immediately.

The moment the carriage pulled away from the curb, Clint broke the silence.

“I must apologize. Watching you receive such utterly disrespectful treatment made my blood boil… I fear I may have overacted a bit.”

“I genuinely assumed you were just following the script. Were you actually angry?”

“Yes. Strangely enough, I was quite furious.”

Clint’s brows were still knit together in a tight, displeased frown.

“Thank you… for getting angry on my behalf.”

“Anyone in my position would have felt the same.”

Even so, a warm feeling bloomed in Simon’s chest at the thought of Clint’s anger. A man who was routinely so detached, projecting an aura that the rest of the world was beneath his notice, had flown into a rage purely for his sake. Did this mean they had grown just a little bit closer? Though the heavy mood called for seriousness, a silly, giddy smile kept creeping back onto Simon’s face.

“Is that man, Elon, always like that?”

“More or less.”

“I only observed him for a few minutes, but his character is painfully obvious. He is the sort of man you would do best to keep at a distance.”

“Perhaps so… though that is easier said than done.”

Simon was well aware that Elon was far from a good person. If pressed, Simon actively disliked him. Yet in a small territory where the upper class was a tight-knit, incestuous social circle, avoiding certain individuals entirely was an impossible luxury.

Short of packing his bags and leaving the territory altogether, there was no escaping people like Elon. Once upon a time, Simon had been utterly desperate to leave this place behind. He had even tried: he sat for entrance examinations to attend a distant boarding school and prepared every single detail for his departure, only to collapse from a sudden, catastrophic heart failure moments before he was set to leave. After that day, making any attempt to leave had become an absolute impossibility.

‘Before I die… I would love to travel somewhere far away, just once…’

Simon drifted off into silent thought as he stared out the carriage window. Clint watched him quietly. A familiar, quiet resignation had settled over the young noble’s pale features—a look that Clint found himself thoroughly, deeply disliking.

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