Fashion
"Hope, hold on a sec."
Hope, who had been hopping through the snow, tilted her head. Something caught my eye on her swinging arm. Upon closer inspection, the elbow area was slightly torn, as if scratched by something.
"See? It's ripped right here."
"Huh? Really?"
"It's not too bad. Must've just snagged on something."
We always roam rough terrain. Naturally, clothes get shredded on sharp edges during scouting—it's par for the course. In a peaceful world, you'd toss worn or damaged stuff and buy new. But here, every garment is precious, so I patch them up myself. No new clothes means wearing these for life.
The chat exploded with praise. In a world like this, you pick up skills whether you want to or not—they're all tied to survival.
Maybe because the tear was small, a few quick stitches finished it faster than expected.
"All done."
"Looks neat now."
"I'll fix it anytime, but try not to rip it again."
"Okaay~"
Hope slipped her coat back on and spun her arm wide. My careful stitching wouldn't come undone.
As we packed up to leave, I glanced around. Since we're here, might as well scout the rest today. The deep inner passage was dim without sunlight. Lantern time? But there was a light switch on the wall, so I flipped it first.
Click, click, click—lights flickered on sequentially from the entrance, illuminating the dark hall.
While the chat freaked out, Hope scurried inside to explore. Mannequins lined both walls along the passage.
"So many things that look like people! But they feel different from the ones we've seen before. Why?"
"These are called mannequins."
"Mannequins?"
"Think of them as dolls made to dress up in people's clothes."
"Ohh... But none of them are wearing anything?"
All the mannequins here were stark naked. Maybe no time to dress them, or survivors stripped them clean. Whatever the reason, it's ancient history—not worth dwelling on.
As I started explaining, a mischievous idea sparked. A wicked grin spread across my face.
"Well, you see..."
I lowered my voice for a spooky effect. "They're naked because they steal clothes from living people to wear. Mannequins snatch outfits off the living. They're lying in wait right now, plotting to grab ours when we're not looking."
"What?!"
Hope froze mid-poke on a mannequin. She glanced between it and me, then backed away. Terrified, she bolted to me and clutched my coat hem, eyes darting everywhere.
Perfect—my prank landed. I couldn't help smirking. For the finale, I shrieked.
"Kyaaah!"
Her nerves shot, Hope yelped and leaped back. I caught her arm as she toppled, and she hugged my side tight. Her shoulders trembled from the scary tale.
"Let's get outta here. Stay too long, and we'll be naked."
"No need to freak—it's not real."
"Aren't you scared, sis? They might steal all our clothes."
"It was a joke. I just wanted to tease you."
"A... joke?"
"All fake. If it were real, we wouldn't have come in."
Hope stared blankly, then puffed her cheeks in a pout.
"Hmph."
She pulled away and turned her head with a huff. Even her sulky back was adorable, drawing a smile from me.
The chat was desperately hoping our clothes got stolen. So honest about their desires. I chuckled in disbelief and lightly smacked the floating drone. "No weird ideas."
Time to placate Hope. "C'mon, quit pouting. For dinner tonight, we'll have whatever you want."
Her ears perked at food, and she sneaked a glance.
"For real? Then spaghetti from the can tonight!"
"Deal."
"Yay, forgiven! But you gotta keep the promise."
"Handshake for makeup?"
She took my hand. Her puffed cheeks deflated back to normal. Hand in hand, we continued down the passage.
"But sis, why dress mannequins? If you wanna play dolls, there are smaller ones. These are for grown-ups?"
"Kinda. Adults wanna play dolls sometimes too."
"Adult dolls are... weird. 'Cause grown-ups play with 'em?"
I chuckled at her puzzled head-tilt. Misunderstanding. Plenty of normal dolls for adults, but explaining wouldn't help her grasp it.
"Mannequins look like that for reasons. To show off clothes nicely to people, and designers try them on to improve designs."
"Hmm, dunno. Clothes are just what we wea—"
Hope paused mid-sentence with an "Ah!"
"Grandma said old people had tons of clothes, way more than now."
"You remember that?"
"Just popped up. She said if we were born way back, we'd wear way prettier clothes whenever we wanted..."
I swallowed the urge to ask if she missed Grandma. No need to sour the mood—I couldn't do anything about it anyway.
"Ahem, yeah. Back then, clothes fell into three categories: comfy ones like ours for moving easy, fancy ones just to look cool, and special ones for certain places or events."
"Ugh, old people lived uncomfortably. We're good with these."
"Clothes were like armor to them."
"Armor?"
"As vital as guns or food."
"That much?"
"That much."
Clothes show who you are, shape first impressions—especially in special spots. Irrelevant now, as Hope said.
The chat agreed. At the passage's end, a door appeared. Inside was a vast space with a long straight runway dead center.
"This is..."
"Sis, know what this place was for?"
"They showed clothes to people here. See that long stage? Models walked it in pretty outfits."
"There?"
I nodded. Hope's eyes sparkled. She grabbed my hand.
"Sis, let's do it too!"
Pulled by her small hand, I stepped onto the runway. Unsure how, she hesitated cutely. I chuckled, vaguely recalled a fashion show, and mimicked a model's strut.
She copied me. 'Our outfits kill the vibe.'
Chat griped about our outfits. I get it, but what do you want? No clothes. Deal with it.
"Sis, check this out—tons of clothes here!"
Backstage was piled with discarded garments, torn or stained but some intact. Hope gawked at the colorful array.
"Wanna try some on?"
"Can we?"
"Just for a bit's fine. Pick clean ones."
Finding Hope-sized stuff was tough—mostly adult. But some kids' clothes mixed in.
Untangling the mess for cute fits was harder than expected. Years buried dulled my eye? Still, I dressed her nicely in decent picks, hoping it'd work.
Chat went wild positively. Of course—Hope rocks anything. Good eyes, folks.
Hope strutted the runway like a model, changing outfits repeatedly.
And then. "Sis, join me!"
"Huh? Me too?"
"It's fun secretly."
"No good outfits for me... I'll just watch."
"It's fine. You'd look good in anything."
Pushed by Hope, I joined. First time dressing up since reincarnating here. Unfamiliar, but not bad.
After several changes and walks, chat was flooding insanely. Whoa, that good? Guess I pull it off—unlike some.
Our mini fashion show wrapped, Hope beaming proudly.
"Kinda get why old folks fussed over clothes."
"Yeah?"
"Like transforming!"
Spot-on analogy—I laughed.
"Oh, something over there."
Hope dashed off excitedly, returning with an outfit.
"Sis, how's this? Perfect for you."
"Hope, that's..."
How to explain? It's clothes, but... why a bunny girl costume here?!
"No way. Won't suit me. Pass."
"Aww, it totally will. Just once? Pleeease?"
"Nope."
"Really no?"
Urk. Gotta refuse... but I took it anyway.
Chat lost it. Sorry, no show for you. I shoved the drone deep into the pile, burying it.
"Sis, so cute! Cute! CUTE!"
Her chants burned my face. Damn. Me, a guy in my past life, in bunny girl? Crap. Felt like the last shred of my old self vanished. Past me would bash my head repeatedly.
As I hurried to change, my eyes met the drone's lens, buried deep but filming my bunny girl self.
"......."
FUUUUCK!
No time for screams—I hurled clothes at the drone relentlessly.