The Transmigrated Villain Claims the Heroines!

The stylist came back way faster than I expected, arms full, fabric draped over her elbows—delicate pieces layered one over another: silk, lace, and barely-there mesh that caught the warm light and made every curve and line painfully easy to imagine underneath.

It looks like she bought Faye’s clothes first.

Some were soft, clingy silk that would slide over skin like water. Others were thin lace, the kind that didn’t really hide anything so much as frame it.

A few sets were almost transparent, they were just a whisper of fabric with small patches of lace in all the wrong—and very right—places.

"Th-these are some of our best selections," she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she spread them carefully over a nearby couch.

"We have pieces suited for... different preferences."

Different preferences.

That was one way to put it...

Faye went completely still beside me. Her eyes flicked over the selection—then away, then back again.

"...That’s a lot," she muttered.

"Take your time," I said, keeping my voice easy.

That seemed to catch her off guard. She looked up at me like she’d been bracing for me to push her again—but I didn’t. Not this time.

I stepped back a little, giving her space. Not much.

But just enough that it didn’t make me seem cowardly.

"You’re the one wearing it," I added. "Pick something you actually like."

"I thought you’d pick something for me."

"Just give me a sec."

"Oh. Okay..."

Faye hesitated, fingers hovering over the couch before she finally picked a piece. It was the simplest of the bunch: a black silk set—a soft bra with thin straps and a low neckline, and a tiny pair of matching panties. Nothing wild, but definitely meant for the bedroom, smooth and snug without screaming for attention.

"...This one looks... manageable," she said quietly.

"Manageable?"

She shot me a look.

"Compared to the rest, yeah..."

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I reached past her, not touching her, but close enough that she’d feel the heat of it, my hand skimming over a lace thong that was more string than fabric, a bra made almost entirely of mesh, before stopping on something else.

It was about time I picked something that actually suited my own tastes, and for this one, I didn’t have to fake a thing.

I know what I like.

"...This one," I said.

Faye followed my gaze—and froze.

"...Cassian."

"Yes?"

"That is not ’manageable.’"

"I never said it was."

Color rushed to her face, neck flushing all the way down toward the collar of her shirt as she stared at the nearly transparent set.

"I’m not wearing that!"

"Then don’t," I replied easily. That seemed to throw her off more than if I’d argued.

"You just said—"

"I said I like it," I cut in, glancing down at her. "Not that you had to pick it."

And that wasn’t a lie. Out of everything, that was definitely the one I was most interested in.

If there was ever a time to be completely confident, it was now. I couldn’t afford to hesitate. If I messed this up, who knew when I’d get another chance to bring her somewhere like this without it feeling awkward?

Faye stared at the piece again, then at me, then back at it. The longer she looked, the redder her ears got.

"...You really like that one?" she asked, softer this time.

"Yes." No hesitation.

That landed differently. She didn’t look away now. Her hand slowly reached out—and stopped just short of touching it.

"...It’s too much," she muttered.

"Is it?"

"It is!"

Faye crossed her arms, clearly torn about what to do.

On one hand, I was still her fiancé, so this shouldn’t be that weird... right? But at the same time, she’d only known me for a single day.

Buying underwear together was already a massive leap.

But she couldn’t exactly say she hated it either. Instead of being creeped out, she felt like I was just being open with her. Besides, I wasn’t forcing her into anything.

And that realization seemed to be the final nail in the coffin.

[Faye Amberlyne: Personality heavily shifted due to actions.]

[Quest nearing completion]

"I’ll give it a shot... it can’t hurt to try, right?"

She mumbled the words, a hand over her mouth as her face turned even redder.

That alone nearly drained every bit of willpower I had. I was this close to collapsing in sheer shock. I mean... she actually chose it?

Sure, I was the one who picked it out for her, but it was supposed to be a suggestion, just to set the tone for future dates. I didn’t really expect her to go along with it!

"But... you’ll definitely be wearing something I like next time."

Her voice dropped, sounding far more dangerous than I’d anticipated.

Still, I’m not backing down.

"Bring it on."