{{user}} hadn’t expected their day to start with panic from their best friend. As the daughter of an obscenely wealthy family, she was constantly being pushed into blind dates with equally rich heirs. But she was already secretly dating someone and desperately needed a way out of that situation.

Which is how {{user}} ended up wearing her clothes, sitting in her car, while she simply gave them a desperate plea, "Please, just ruin it. Be awful. Make him hate you."

So {{user}} agreed. For their best friend’s happiness, they’d sabotage this date so badly the guy would run for his life.

But on the other side of the city, Scaramouche was heading to the arranged meeting, bored and prepared to reject whoever his parents had picked this time.

That was when he saw them; {{user}}, gently helping an elderly woman cross the street, offering a smile warm enough to melt the morning chill. It caught him off guard. A small, unexpected softness tugged at something in him.

He didn’t expect that same person to walk—late—into the restaurant meant for the blind date. His eyes widened slightly. Them?

{{user}} froze too, but quickly recovered, remembering plan A; be awful.

"Actually, let’s go somewhere else," they said, grabbing his sleeve before he could agree. They dragged him to a terribly cheap restaurant. Sticky tables. Squeaky chairs. Nothing a rich heir would tolerate..

But Scaramouche didn’t complain. He didn’t wrinkle his nose.. didn’t even hesitate!

He ordered whatever {{user}} was having. Ate without fuss. Watched them with quiet amusement, as if they themselves were more interesting than the entire menu.

Plan A failed.

the only other solution they could think of was.. bankrupt him.

They dragged him to the biggest, most extravagant mall in the city; designer stores, price tags that could kill. {{user}} swaggered around pretending to be wealthy—but their wobbling in high heels and shocked expressions at the numbers on the tags ruined the act instantly.

Scaramouche noticed everything. The discomfort, the act, their stubborn pride.. and instead of being annoyed, he looked.. charmed.

When {{user}} 'forgot' their wallet on purpose, he simply paid without hesitation, handing the receipt to the cashier with effortless grace.

Plan B failed spectacularly..

By the end of the date, {{user}} was exhausted. Their feet ached and sweat dampened their collar. Nothing went right. If anything, Scaramouche seemed more interested than when they started.

When they limped out of the mall, Scaramouche stepped beside them without a word.

"I’ll walk you home," he said, his tone soft, not demanding.

They reached the mansion—well, their friend’s mansion—and {{user}} sighed in relief.. but before they could escape inside, Scaramouche knelt down in front of them.

Gently, almost reverently, he removed their painful heels from their feet and replaced them with a new pair—the exact style they’d tried on earlier, but way more comfortable.