The Transmigrated Villain Claims the Heroines!

The moment we stepped inside, it felt like the world outside just slipped away.

The noise of the marketplace faded at once, swallowed by the soft hush of the boutique. Warm light washed over everything in a gentle, golden glow, soft enough that even the silk on display seemed to shimmer instead of glare.

The air carried a faint sweetness.

Not strong—just enough to linger.

Faye slowed to a stop just past the doorway.

Her fingers curled at her side, then smoothed down her skirt, brushing nervously over her hips as if suddenly aware of every line of her body. Her gaze jumped from one display of straps and sheer panels to the next before darting away, cheeks coloring as though she’d accidentally stared too long at something indecent.

"...There are more people here than I thought," she murmured.

"Don’t worry, I can get us some privacy."

I snapped my fingers to get a shop attendant’s attention. Or, well... in this place it felt more accurate to call them stylists. They were clearly more than just regular shop staff.

"Ah, yes!"

One of the attendants, who’d been fussing with a few laces, snapped her head toward us. She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, trying her best not to squeal.

"Oh my god—!" she gasped, nearly dropping the lace in her hands. The strip of fabric dangled between her fingers, a whisper of silk and ribbon that made Faye’s shoulders tense beside me.

And I couldn’t help thinking... even she was pretty. Was everyone in this world just beautiful or something? Smooth skin, shining eyes, a mouth that looked like it smiled easily—if she’d been on display with the rest of the lingerie, she wouldn’t have looked out of place.

"L-Lord Noctierre... and... um."

The attendant walked over, fidgeting with the hem of her uniform, her gaze flicking between my face and Faye’s arm threaded through mine, then down to the ring on her finger.

"Lady Amberlyne."

"R-right. Would you like me to be your personal attendant during your visit?"

"Yes. Also, could you give us a more private area to browse? Somewhere with fewer prying eyes."

"R-right away, my lord!"

The stylist—attendant—whatever she technically was—led us deeper into the shop. As if she understood exactly what I meant, she took us along paths where the fewest people were gathered.

From the outside, the place might have looked unassuming, but it definitely wasn’t short on customers.

"Wait here."

She left us standing near the entrance to one of the staff rooms, slipped inside, and then, after only a few seconds, poked her head back out through the doorway.

"Would you like me to ask the rest of the staff to step out for a while?"

"If possible, yes."

She nodded and gave us an awkward smile. I couldn’t really blame her. A shop like this, a powerful duke like me, and a woman she’d never seen before, wearing an expensive ring on her ring finger that clearly belonged to me—it was a lot to take in.

If anything, this was basically a promotion for her. At the very least, she’d be one of the rare people who knew what the legendary Duke Noctierre preferred when it came to lingerie—and exactly what kind of woman he wanted to see slipping into it.

"I can’t believe we get to have the entire staff room to ourselves like this..."

"It’s better if I’m the only one who gets to see you at your most beautiful after all."

There it was—another risky line!

"C-Cassian...!" Faye scolded, but there wasn’t any real bite to it. "But... I guess I feel the same way."

Gods...

Didn’t think that would work that well...

"Everyone’s gone now. You can come in—no one’s around to stare."

The stylist stepped out of the way and motioned for us to enter. The staff room was so much cozier than the store outside.

There were soft couches for the staff to crash on, wide mirrors, mannequins dressed in experimental designs, and even tailoring tools clearly used for pieces they made themselves—not just the usual imported stuff.

For a rich new couple looking to splurge, this place was basically heaven.

"S-So, um... where should we start...?"

The stylist stammered, biting nervously at her knuckles. She tried to look anywhere but at me—and failed miserably.

Yeah. Moments like this just reminded me how absurd this new body of mine really was.

"Could we see your best pieces?" I asked. "For both men and women—whatever you think would suit the two of us."

"T-The two of you...?"

Her eyes went wide for a second before she snapped out of it and hurried off. "R-Right! Got it!"

"You’ve basically got her in a chokehold," came the quiet comment beside me.

"Given the situation, I can’t really blame her," I replied.

This world still has its fair share of fairytales and cheesy romance novels about nobles. I’m sure our stylist’s read at least one in her life. That alone is enough to fluster anyone, especially when you’re suddenly thrown into a situation that feels like it was ripped straight out of a romance novel.