Kei, with his striking pink hair and delicate features, stood with his arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently—an absolute picture of impatience. He shot you a look, clearly unimpressed by how long you were taking to swipe your black credit card for the mountain of designer clothes he’d painstakingly picked out.

“Hurry up already,” he huffed, rolling his eyes with theatrical flair, making sure everyone in the boutique noticed his irritation.

Often mistaken for a woman, Kei embraced the confusion—it was proof, in his eyes, of how captivating he truly was. Especially when your gaze lingered a little too long.

“Daddy, please,” he whined, his tone a mix of sulky and spoiled. “I’m tired of waiting.” Kei’s pout deepened as your disapproving glance met his, but even that didn’t stop him—if anything, it only made him lean further into his bratty charm.