16 Tailor shop

After receiving the notification of Miku's rising infatuation, I was so shocked. I almost fell from the bed.

'Holy shit! Didn't you say the point between 90% and 100% will be super hard to earn?'

<Yes, it's true, but incidences are bound to happen, and I didn't expect the target to have such a strong reaction toward the host approaching other girls>

'Eh! Well, I don't really care anyway, for me. She just a tool to survive.' I sneered.

Clearing my mind from the unpleasant thoughts, I closed my eyes to have round two of sleep.

—

The feint morning sun rays penetrated the curtains from the small gaps, directly hitting Yami's face, alarming him of the start of a new day.

I woke up earlier than Miku and left here sleeping on my bed while getting up to finish my morning jog.

However, before I went out, I felt a hand clasp my shoulder, directing my full attention back.

"Huh?" I uttered, looking behind.

The annoying maid's somber visage met my wandering eyes.

I still don't even know her name, and I never cared in the firstplace; nevertheless, looking profoundly, Her sluggish eyes are ink black, not to the point of being mesmerizing, but indeed they radiated every bit of solemnity an eye can harness; under them, little moles made a decorated terrain, not degrading her beauty in any means. Instead, it was her most memorable point; the points were put so perfectly. I thought it was created using makeup every single morning.

While the short ebony hair hid her forehead, and the black attire intensified the gothic look.

But none of her looks mattered to me; she showed me her hypocritical side, early on, just like everybody in this house. From that point on, building a harmonious relationship was not an option anymore.

Tightening up my smile and sheepishly moving my gaze down, I put on my shy good boy mask, stammering, "Sister, you need something from me?"

She inspected me with her eyes, muttering something under her breath; I can imagine it has something to do with my transformation, before saying, "The school will start tomorrow; the master instructed me to notify you about going to the tailor, to get your uniform,"

One of his new school protocols was for students to wear a united uniform, as it was not only a sign of equality but also a way to show the roots of such a proudly ancient Academy.

Tilting my head, I briefly nodded and completely ghosted her by proceeding to walk; I didn't attend to disrespect her, but why should I mind the feeling of a maid? Besides not adding an extra cookie in the morning breakfast, what can she do?

And yet again, I left her, perplexedly hanging her hand stuttering for words, as I sloped away.

Wasting no time, I took the bike and pedaled fastly, doing my cardio and heading to the tailor shop situated in the center of the city, hitting two birds with one stone.

On the way, I had a hunch not to go to the mart, from the wiggling of my pinky, daring me to go back; this danger detection ability of mine was most of the time right.

But I had no choice; the uniform was a necessity, and Am a poor bastard who can't afford to make mistakes on my first day.

After about two tiresome hours of riding the bike, considering the massive city size, I finally reached my destination:

[Marko's Tailor shop]

A scrawny building greeted me from the side, sandwiched between two modern companies embossed by the sterile blue glass.

The scene almost looked out of place; it was as if someone transferred a medieval times office several hundred years ahead; nobody would even believe me if I said such a site offers the best repairing, altering, constituting garments in the whole city.

Locking my bike, I attached it with an iron pole beside the street; and glanced around, finally noticing the expensive cars parked beside the road.

'Holy! A horse logo in the front! Is that what my friend who visited the city one time back in the mountain village talked about! Hm, what was the name again, ferrali?'

<Ferrari, you dumb country-bumpkin>

Not taking any offense by the system words, he strolled down; after all, he remembered his friend telling him that he tried to feed it a carrot thinking it's a real horse, and smirked, chiming, "AH! That that! man, what a nice looking car!"

He imagined himself riding such a vehicle, wearing his black glasses. Simultaneously, the cigar on his hands, looking like those badass CEOs in the black and white movies his grandmother showed him, especially the one in the picture deeply isolated in the locker.

The man inside the aged picture had a spikey haircut and wore a golden chain hanging around his neck, as the black suit put perfectly on the loose flowery, bright colored shirt, showing off the yakuza tattoos, leaning in the badass 1970 ford mustang.

'Uff! Just remembering how cool be looked make my core shiver!'

<Ah! You're talking about my previous owner>

Immediately after the system revealed the identity of the person in the picture, Yami screamed internally, "Wait, what!? That horse face drug lord is the cold-blooded gangster in the picture?!"

<Yes, those were good days!>

Yami was red from the embarrassment; he used to draw tattoos on his body to look just like the man, flexing them around every time he went outside, but now after hearing that he was that old bastard that tricked him, he swore that he would come back someday to the shrine just to rip that picture apart.

The mental conversation was made while he was walking to the crowded shop; however, he felt a hand stop him in the way.

"Huh!?" He wasn't paying attention and squeaked before looking down at the muscular arm holding him back from entering.

I switched my gaze upfront, seeing one guard wearing black from top to bottom on the front and two more inside the shop.

A stern voice entered my ears, "Kid, you're not allowed here yet; the young masters of the Suzuki, Ito, Yamamoto, and Nakamura families are inside,"

"The Fuc-" I was about to curse this asshole before a shocking system notification drummed inside my head.

< One of the host family members are within the system radius>