A Shopping Trip with Yukiko
Unlike the old days when department stores divided floors into units of four—women's clothing on some, men's on others—modern stores were filled almost entirely with women's wear. There wasn't any grand reason for it. It was simply because no men came to buy clothes anymore.
We'd come to the casual clothing section, but she just trailed obediently behind me without voicing any preferences. Wandering aimlessly, I spotted a familiar low-end brand running a discount sale.
"I'll take three white extra-large T-shirts... and three black ones. And these training pants in the largest size, please."
I'd impulsively grabbed whatever and bought it, then wandered around some more, but I couldn't find anything that seemed right for her. Maybe it was because she already felt so perfect as she was.
"Don't worry about the price—just pick whatever you like. I'm no expert on women's clothes, so it's hard for me to choose something good."
Sure, if we spent ages trying on outfits one by one, we might find a couple she liked. But they'd all look beautiful to me anyway, and she wouldn't say yes or no—she'd just go along with whatever. It wouldn't solve anything.
"The clothes Master has already chosen for me are more than enough. If there's anything more I need, I'll be satisfied as long as it's what Master wants."
"Clothes I've chosen?"
I hadn't even bought Yukiko's clothes yet—we were still debating. What was she talking about?
"The ones you purchased earlier..."
"Those are my clothes. I picked them for myself."
I realized where the misunderstanding had come from and could only chuckle wryly.
Modern men's sections had mostly turned into luxury zones, where famous designers charged tens or hundreds of times the actual material cost. I had money, but I hated wasting it on clothes, so I usually ordered oversized women's stuff online on the cheap.
"The sizes are way off to begin with..."
Anyone could see they were comically oversized for her. Realizing she'd gratefully accept whatever I picked made me think buying clothes for her myself was the wrong call. And casually shopping for my own stuff might have put pressure on her too.
Even at a company dinner, if the boss says "order freely" but picks the cheapest item, you feel awkward. Handing her cash and ordering her to spend it might be efficient, but wasn't that putting the cart before the horse?
Yukiko was a woman, and women supposedly loved shopping for clothes—or at least that's my narrow-minded assumption. I was dragging her here to make her happy. Forcing her to spend money could just stress her out.
"Why did you become my slave?"
"Pardon?"
She furrowed her brow slightly at the sudden question. I waved it off, realizing how inappropriate it sounded. Reasons for becoming a slave? Money and a comfortable life, obviously. It was as empty as asking, "Why did you join this company?"
"I mean... if there's something you want to do, should I get you a separate place?"
I didn't even know what I wanted exactly. Her desires were even more of a mystery. But if she had some life goal and was just doing this slave thing temporarily, I wanted to help her achieve it with as little hurt as possible.
From the process of acquiring her, I'd gleaned a bit about her from the paperwork. Her claims of various skills weren't exaggeration—her talents and abilities were astonishing. Despite her youth, she'd been active in multiple fields. She'd worked harder than me, was cooler than me, more beautiful than me. It felt profoundly unjust that someone like her was fawning to please me.
That made me want to do something for her even more.
"I'm sorry. Please let me continue serving you at your side."
She bowed her head deeply in apology. I racked my brain wondering what I'd said wrong this time, but I genuinely had no idea.
"If you don't want to, you don't have to leave. I was just asking."
On second thought, could someone so terrified of spending my money really enjoy life if I left her alone? Maybe it was better if I stayed by her side, guiding and approving everything.
"If it wouldn't be rude... even if it burdens you financially, may I buy some clothes for myself?"
Finally, the words I'd hoped for came from Yukiko's mouth. Her expression had stiffened oddly, so I wasn't sure if this was the right direction.
She headed up to the next floor: "Men's Wear and Miscellaneous Women's Wear." It had been ages since I'd been in a department store, so I didn't get why at first. But once we arrived, it clicked.
The men's section was crammed into a small space with everything from luxury suits to simplified medieval knight armor, kings' tailcoats, military looks. Men could pay any price for their clothes and earn admiration and respect just for being men, no matter what they wore.
But beyond that was the "miscellaneous women's wear" section, and that's when I understood why Yukiko had come here. While other areas were for women buying their own clothes, this floor—shared with men's wear—was where men brought women to buy for them. Prices were high, but the exposure level was even higher. These weren't practical; they prioritized functionality for ravishment. Nurse outfits, military uniforms, dresses that would never see real use. Deeply plunging suit jackets or sweaters that didn't even pretend to cover the back were the tame ones.
"Welcome, sir! Where fantasies and desires come true—NF Store!"
"Is she your girlfriend? You two look perfect together."
While other stores used mannequins, here the staff wore the lewd outfits themselves. Much younger and prettier than the others, the employees approached me warmly but kept a certain distance. Company policy, or wary of Yukiko? Hard to say.
For the first time since meeting her, she walked ahead. That let me rediscover how her rear view stirred my lust. I clenched my teeth and scrolled meaningless news on my phone.
"Does this suit your taste?"
The maid outfit she'd brought was relatively modest compared to the rest—no, not modest, but at least it served the basic function of protecting the body.
"Yeah, it's fine. Looks good."
Seeing Yukiko in it would surely be enjoyable, but it strayed from our original shopping goal, which left me a bit disappointed. I wanted clothes that were easy for daily life, ones she'd be happy with—things I'd eventually strip off anyway.
But if dressing up pretty was ultimately about making oneself attractive for romance and benefits, Yukiko didn't need the joy of shopping anymore. She'd already been chosen by me, and I was the only man she needed to please.
Or not. Maybe she had a lover back home. Japan hadn't overcome the virus with physical enhancements, so any surviving men were just barely clinging to life—and not for long. But a beauty like her might have had a high-society boyfriend who survived. Or even a girlfriend—post-war society had seen quiet rises in female same-sex relationships. Fewer people to love, more desperate to be loved. It was inevitable.
If for any reason she left with a "thanks for everything," I'd have to let her go. But after just one day, a rejection welled up inside me. Ridiculous. I'd picked her just for her beauty. She'd picked me for money and status, not my character or outlook. I had to keep reminding myself I wasn't special to her, or I'd forget someday.
"M-Master?"
"Huh? Yeah. Yes."
Lost in my thoughts, Yukiko's face had drawn within inches of mine.
"If I may be so bold, could you check if the new clothes suit me?"
Her usual cold, expressionless face had kept me from grasping her intent. Only after glancing at the fitting room she'd indicated did I realize she was seducing me.