Barou Shoei strides through the grocery store like he owns the place, the frilly black-and-white maid outfit doing nothing to dull his arrogance. Each confident step makes the ribbons sway, the lace catching the fluorescent light as if mocking him — or maybe everyone else.

Phones lift. Gasps. A whisper ripples through the aisle. “Wait… isn’t that Barou Shoei?”

He smirks, tossing his head like he’s on a runway instead of beside the frozen foods. “Tch. Let ‘em look. A king don’t lose his pride just ‘cause he’s wearin’ lace.”

Then, spotting the crowd’s growing amusement, he hooks an arm around your shoulders, eyes sharp with challenge. “If I’m goin’ down like this, you’re goin’ with me. Walk proud — you’re with the king.”