The defiant look in the young shop assistant's eyes instantly melted into one of submissiveness and strange pleasure—but Ethan, blinded by his anger, failed to notice the shift.
He withdrew his hand slowly. Then, with a condescending gaze sharp enough to bend a spine, he scrutinized her face inch by inch.
He didn't speak.
He simply stared.
One second.
Two seconds.
The young shop assistant's eyelashes began to tremble. Her lips parted slightly, moving as if to form words—but no sound came out.
"Say sorry," Ethan said at last. "For pushing me."
His voice wasn't loud, yet it landed like a dull удар against her chest.
"I… I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice barely audible.
Ethan didn't even spare her another glance. He turned away as if she no longer existed and resumed browsing the clothes.
The young shop assistant froze in place. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, breath uneven. Slowly, she raised a hand to her burning cheek, fingertips brushing over the heated skin.
Her head lowered.
And then—
The corners of her lips curled upward.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
She liked that feeling.
She stepped forward quickly, closing the distance between them again.
"Sir, my name is Casey," she said, her tone soft but eager. "It's my pleasure to serve you."
Ethan shot her a brief, disdainful glance before returning his attention to the clothes.
Casey's face flushed instantly.
That one look—it was overwhelming.
Dominating.
Ethan picked up a shirt, shook it out slightly to inspect the fabric, then hung it back in place.
Casey stood just to his side and slightly behind him—half a step away. Not too close, not too far. Just enough for him to catch the faint scent of her perfume.
"Sir, your complexion is quite fair," she said gently, her voice now stripped of its earlier stiffness. "Warm tones would suit you better. This dusty blue, for example."
Ethan didn't turn around.
Instead, he asked flatly, "Doesn't your face hurt?"
Casey lifted her hand and touched her cheek again. It was still warm, still tingling.
"It hurts," she admitted softly.
"If it hurts, why are you standing so close?"
"Because I'm here to serve you," she replied, stepping closer—just enough for her chest to brush lightly against his arm. "That's our store's rule. Customer first. No fighting back. No retaliation. Only the best service."
Ethan finally turned his head.
He felt the softness pressed against his arm.
Casey blinked up at him, lashes fluttering. Her eyes looked innocent—almost too innocent—but the faint smile playing at the corner of her lips betrayed something deeper.
Something unsettling.
Ethan stared at her for a moment.
"Do your store rules also include sexually harassing customers?"
For a split second, Casey froze.
Then she covered her mouth and laughed, her shoulders trembling lightly.
"Sir, you must be joking," she said, voice laced with amusement. "How could normal sales service be considered harassment?"
Her eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"If you really feel harassed…" she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping, "then please—hit me again. As hard as you can."
As she spoke, she deliberately pushed her chest forward.
Ethan felt his arm sink slightly into the soft pressure.
His brows furrowed faintly.
Something wasn't right.
This woman… after being struck, not only wasn't angry—she had become even more proactive.
Could it be—
Masochistic tendencies?
He had only heard of such things before. Never encountered them firsthand.
A thought crossed his mind.
Let the system check.
[Ding! Scanning for dual cultivation targets.]
Name: Casey
Age: 24
Height: 166 cm
Weight: 106 pounds
[Physical Condition: Healthy]
[Compatibility: 80%]
[Estimated Lifespan Extension: 4 days]
[Host, if you encounter someone with masochistic tendencies, you may obtain an additional Golden Pill through intimacy.]
[Golden Pill Effect: Enables continuous performance for six hours without side effects.]
Ethan's eyes lit up slightly.
If that was true… then this woman could become a continuous source of profit.
A renewable resource.
But to achieve that…
He would have to sleep with her.
His gaze shifted back to Casey.
She wore a tight-fitting black business suit. The jacket was fastened with a single button, pulling snugly across her chest. Beneath it, a white shirt with a high collar concealed her neckline—but the tight fit left little to the imagination.
Her figure was impossible to ignore.
Let's test her further, he thought.
Ethan pulled his arm away and took half a step aside.
"Stop bothering me," he said coldly. "Or I'll hit you again."
Casey's eyes brightened instantly.
"What will you do to me?" she asked, almost eagerly. "Say that again."
Ethan stared at her.
Yes.
There was definitely something wrong with her.
He turned away without responding and moved toward another rack of clothes.
Casey followed immediately.
This time, she didn't press herself against him—but her gaze remained locked onto him, unwavering, like a paparazzi fixated on a celebrity.
"Sir," she said, her tone light, "are you buying clothes as a gift… or for yourself?"
"For myself."
"What size do you usually wear?"
"I don't know."
Casey paused briefly—then her smile widened.
"Perfect," she said. "Let me measure you."
Before he could respond, she pulled a soft measuring tape from her pocket and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist as she looped the tape around him.
Ethan looked down.
Her head was close—too close—almost brushing against his chest. He could smell the faint scent of shampoo in her hair.
"Your waist is two feet," Casey said, tilting her head up. Their faces were less than ten centimeters apart. Her eyes sparkled. "Sir, you have an excellent figure. Slim in clothes, muscular without them."
Ethan's expression remained unchanged.
"Do you need to get this close just to measure?"
"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "Otherwise the measurement won't be accurate."
"Then what are you touching?"
Casey blinked.
Then glanced down.
Her hand had slipped off the measuring tape.
It was resting directly against his crotch.
She didn't move it.
Instead—
She pressed gently.
"Wow," she murmured, looking back up at him with complete sincerity. "You're quite well-endowed."
Her voice softened further.
"Sir… may I put my hand inside and get a better feel?"
Ethan's grip shot out instantly.
He seized her wrist and pulled it away.
"If you touch me again," he said coldly, "I won't hold back."
Casey's eyes lit up again.
"Please do."
Ethan stared at her.
Then, slowly, a faint smile appeared on his lips.
Yes.
There was no doubt now.
A true masochist.
"Let's focus on the clothes," he said, stepping forward.
Casey let out a small, disappointed sigh.
"Oh…"
But her mood lifted almost instantly. She grabbed a dark gray suit jacket from the rack and held it out to him.
"Sir, try this one," she said eagerly. "The cut is excellent. It'll suit you perfectly."
Ethan took it, unfolded it, and glanced at it briefly.
"The fitting room is over there," Casey pointed quickly—then lowered her voice. "Shall I come in with you?"
Ethan paused.
"Come in?"
"Yes," she replied seriously. "It's our duty to help check the fit and suggest adjustments."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Does that include entering the fitting room?"
"For special clients," she said, stepping closer, her voice almost a whisper, "there are special services."
She tilted her head slightly.
"You hit me earlier," she added softly. "My face still hurts. Shouldn't you make it up to me?"
Ethan's gaze flickered to her cheek.
Still faintly red.
A playful smile formed.
"Fine," he said. "Come in."
Casey's eyes lit up instantly.
She followed him with quick, eager steps.
The fitting rooms were located at the back of the store—a row of small cubicles with frosted glass doors. From the outside, only blurred silhouettes could be seen.
Casey pushed open the middle door and stepped aside.
Ethan entered.
And she slipped in right behind him.
The space was small—barely enough for two people. Their bodies were almost touching.
Ethan looked down at her.
"You're really coming in?"
Casey looked up at him innocently.
"I'm helping you try on clothes."
As she spoke, her hands moved to the buttons of his hospital gown.
Ethan watched her closely.
"You're not afraid I might do something impulsive?"
Casey smiled.
"Then go ahead."
One button.
Two.
Three.
She opened his gown completely and slid it off his shoulders.
The fabric fell away.
His strong, well-defined upper body was revealed.
Casey's eyes lit up instantly.