Neville glanced around the store and noticed something else.

Two women had entered shortly after them, a young alpha with auburn hair and her companion, a beta with sharp features. They pretended to browse, but their eyes kept drifting toward Gloria’s selections.

When Gloria chose the water droplet pendant, the auburn-haired woman immediately moved to look in the similar display. But she didn’t pick the same piece. Instead, she selected something comparable in quality but distinctly different in design—a chain with a teardrop sapphire rather than a silver pendant.

Neville instantly understood what was happening.

They were following Gloria. Not in a threatening way, but in a social one.

They wanted to match her taste, her standards, be on her level, but not so closely that they could be accused of being a copycat. It was a delicate dance of wealthy social dynamics that he had never seen before.

Gloria looked completely unaware of or perhaps simply indifferent to her shadow shoppers.

"This one," she said, holding up a pair of cufflinks that looked like miniature constellations. "For formal occasions."

Neville, having learned his lesson, didn’t bother protesting anymore. "They’re beautiful."

Gloria smiled and looked pleased with his reaction, and moved on to shop for more.

Just as Gloria was checking out the deep blue silk blend shirt she had bought for him, she stopped the staff robot mid-transaction.

"Oh—make it softer at the neck," she said, already moving on to examine another rack.

The staff robot beeped in acknowledgment and processed the custom alteration request without missing a beat.

Neville stared. "You can ask for that?"

"Of course. What’s the point of expensive clothes if they’re not comfortable?" Gloria pulled out another shirt—this one a soft gray with subtle silver threading. She held it up against Neville, squinting slightly. "This one will feel nice when you’re tired."

She bought it without waiting for his response.

Neville felt his legs beginning to ache. He wasn’t unfit by any means, nor had another hydration problem. But standing and walking for hours while trying to guess the overwhelming amount of money being spent on his behalf was another kind of exhaustion.

He found a seat near the store’s window display and sat down gratefully, watching Gloria move through the racks.

Gloria seemed to be enjoying herself. But for Neville, it felt more like an endurance test.

[Host is overthinking again,] Shelly said teasingly. [If your mother-in-law just wants to spoil you. Let her. You’re lucky you didn’t even need to experience the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law dog fight.]

Neville rolled his eyes at her, ’Don’t forget that this whole relationship is one big lie.’

[Is it though? (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧]

Before Neville could retort to Shelly, he noticed that Gloria was already gone and wandered further away.

As he was thinking whether to move closer to Gloria, he heard a voice call next to him.

"Excuse me."

Neville turned to find a young woman standing next to him. She looked like she was in her early twenties. She had delicate features and wore expensive clothing that instantly made her look like she was born into a wealthy family.

But why did he approach him?

"Yes?" Neville replied automatically.

She tilted her head with an innocently curious expression on her face.

"I was just wondering..." The woman’s eyes glanced over his outfit.

Her eyes studied his expensive coat and cheap shirt that clearly didn’t match in quality. Obviously, it didn’t match the wealthy vibe of the other shoppers around them. His glasses might’ve been for show only, but it was still cheap. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

"Who are you?" she asked.

It wasn’t asked rudely, just purely out of curiosity, the kind of naive interest that came from someone who had never been taught that such questions might be inappropriate.

Neville opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat.

Who was he?

Neville Hope. An orphan. Currently, the Personal Secretary to CEO Maxwell. A transmigrator turned mermaid. Currently a fake boyfriend to the said CEO.

None of those answers seemed appropriate for casual conversation.

Before he could think of how to respond, the woman’s gaze drifted toward Gloria, who was still picking outfits but moved a little closer to their place.

A spark of understanding filled her eyes.

"Oh, are you from the Erskine Ducal House?"

Erskine Ducal House? What was that?

Neville didn’t confirm or deny it, since he really didn’t know what she was talking about. Also, he simply didn’t see why he needed to introduce himself to a random stranger.

Silence stretched on a moment too long.

"Vera, there you are."

Another woman approached, a little older than the first, with sharp features and an air of confident authority. She placed a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder, her eyes sweeping over Neville with considerably more calculation than this ’Vera’.

"Who’s this?" the woman asked.

"I already asked," Vera said, pointing to Gloria not far away, and continued. "I thought he might be from the Erskine house, but he hasn’t answered yet."

The woman’s eyes narrowed. "I know everyone from the Ducal House, and I don’t recognize him."

There was an accusation hidden in those words.

"So," the woman continued with a sharper tone, "who exactly are you? Which noble house do you belong to?"

Neville felt his social anxiety spike. This was exactly the kind of situation he tried to avoid—confrontation with people who had social power he lacked.

Should he answer? Should he apologize? But that didn’t make sense at all. He was just sitting here silently when they disturbed him. That’s rude even in normal people’s sense.

Getting to that conclusion, Neville made up his mind.

He didn’t owe these women an explanation.

Working closely beside Grayson for a few days was enough to sharpen his already sharp edge.

If he dilly dallied for even a second, he could kiss himself goodbye in surviving the corporate politics. With power came responsibility, else navigating a world that wanted to chew him up and spit him out—he would be left for dead.

"I believe I’m not required to disclose my personal information to strangers," he said, keeping his voice neutral. But his tone was giving a sarcastic vibe as if to say, ’even kids know not to talk to strangers.’

The woman’s expression hardened. "If you’re accompanying someone from the Erskine family—"

"Is there a problem here?" Gloria’s sharp tone cut through the tension.