"I’m not interested." Soren interrupted the woman coldly, raising his left hand to show the silver ring on his finger. "And I’m happily married."
The woman paused, her gaze dropping to the ring before drifting over to the wheelchair. Her eyes swept over Ethea, a condescending smirk touching her lips. "Is she your wife?"
Soren noticed the mockery in her gaze, and his expression hardened. "...Please leave while I’m being polite."
The woman chuckled, undeterred by his warning. She took a step closer, shifting her posture to emphasize her voluptuous figure, leaning in so her low-cut dress would draw his eyes straight to her cleavage.
"Come on, handsome~," She whispered, her voice turning into a seductive purr as she extended her manicured hand toward his chest. "Can a girl like that satisfy your needs? A strong man like you needs someone who can actually keep up-"
Soren stepped back before her fingers could make contact, his expression turning icy. "I said get lost."
"...Heh." The woman let out a dry laugh, her smile twisting slightly. "I was just speaking the truth. She’s a cripp-!"
Before the slur could fully leave her throat, the air in the surroundings turned freezing cold.
Soren stepped forward, his hand snapping out to grab her wrist in an iron grip before her fingers could point at Ethea.
A sharp pressure slammed down onto the woman’s shoulders, suffocating the rest of her sentence in an instant. Soren’s eyes locked onto hers, his aura flaring just enough to make blood drain completely from her face.
"Say another word," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "and I will make sure you regret ever opening your mouth."
The woman’s lips trembled. Her earlier confidence had shattered entirely, leaving behind nothing but wide-eyed fear. She tried to pull her wrist free, but his grip held firm.
"Do you understand?"
She nodded frantically, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
Soren released his grip and stepped back, his expression still cold. "Now get lost."
She did not need to be told twice. Stumbling over her own heels, she turned and fled, disappearing into the racks of clothing without a backward glance.
"..."
The pressure in the air dissipated. Soren stood there for a moment, forcing himself to calm down before walking toward Ethea. He knelt beside her, holding her hands gently.
"...Are you alright?"
"..." Ethea stared down at him, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. The prickling feeling from earlier had vanished, replaced by a sudden warmth that flooded her cheeks. She looked at his grip on her hands, then back to his eyes, processing the intensity of what just happened.
"I’m fine." She squeezed his fingers back. "But... you didn’t have to snap like that."
"Yes, I did," Soren said without hesitation. "I don’t care what anyone says to me, but I won’t let anyone speak to you like that."
"..."
Ethea fell silent at his words, her cheeks reddening even further. Thankfully, she had a mask to hide it.
"Good riddance." Aunt Clara muttered, glancing in the direction the woman had fled, then looked down at Soren with a nod of approval. "Some people never learn where the line is until someone draws it for them."
Soren looked up at her.
"You did the right thing." Clara smiled at him. "Now, let’s pay for these and head to the boutique I talked about."
Soren nodded and rose to his feet.
They paid for the clothes at the nearest counter and made their way toward the exit.
───────
The boutique Aunt Clara had mentioned turned out to be a smaller shop a few streets down, specializing in women’s clothes. Unlike the grand halls of the Emporium, it had a cozy, personal feel, with soft lighting and racks arranged by style.
"Now," Clara announced, turning toward Ethea with a gleam in her eye, "it is your turn, dear."
Ethea nodded, her eyes already scanning the nearest displays.
"Pick whatever you like," Soren added. "We’ll buy them all."
Clara turned to him with a knowing look. "You should pick a few as well, Soren. Oh, you’ll be the judge this time."
"Oh. Of course." Soren agreed, perhaps a little too eagerly. He was genuinely looking forward to seeing her pick out clothes she actually liked, not just what was available. But then a thought crossed his mind, and his expression sobered slightly.
"Just don’t overdo it," he said. "If you get tired or feel uncomfortable, tell Auntie or me right away."
Ethea met his eyes and gave a small nod. "I will."
With that, they spread out across the shop. Clara took the lead, pulling pieces from the racks while Ethea pointed out the ones that caught her eye. Soren hung back at first, letting them work, until his gaze landed on a dress near the far wall.
It was a loose, flowing piece crafted from soft white fabric that seemed light enough to float. Broad sleeves billowed gently before tapering at the wrists, and a mandarin collar rose to a subtle V-notch at the throat. A fine line of vine and floral embroidery traced its way down the front, repeated in delicate patterns along the cuffs and hem.
He pulled it from the rack and held it up. "What about this one?"
Ethea turned to look, and her eyes lingered on the white fabric. ’White... His favorite color...’
"...I like it."
"Good." Soren smiled and draped it over his arm. A few minutes later, as Clara and Ethea discussed what else they needed, he wandered further down the aisle and spotted another dress tucked between two bolder designs.
This one was dark blue, the fabric slightly thicker than the white dress and better suited for cooler evenings. It shared the same high collar and long sleeves, with buttons down the front and a cut that was loose enough to be comfortable without looking shapeless.
He brought it back to them. "Let’s get this one too."
"...Alright." Ethea nodded.
"My, my," Clara peered at the two dresses hanging over his arm, then looked up at him with an amused smile. "You have surprisingly good taste. Both of these are lovely."
Soren rubbed the back of his neck. "I just picked what looked comfortable."
"Of course you did." Clara chuckled, taking the dresses from him. "We’ll go and try them on then."