Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!-Chapter 135. Shopping

I had fallen asleep on the couch the night before, sometime after aimlessly scrolling through forums and half-playing a few games.

I didn’t do much—just drifted from one post to the next, eyes half-lidded, mind running on fumes. Something about that night felt... off. Like a film of lethargy had wrapped itself around my body and refused to let go.

I hadn’t even made it to the bed. Just sprawled out on the cushions and passed out, controller still warm in my hand.

The next morning, I woke to the rhythmic crunching of someone chewing. Loud. Constant.

I cracked one eye open and saw Kaelira sitting cross-legged in front of the low table, happily munching away on breakfast.

She was chewing with chipmunk-like intensity, cheeks puffed slightly, eyes glued to a projection screen that displayed local news headlines like they were world-shattering revelations.

For a second, she reminded me of a rabbit—skittish, focused, annoyingly cute.

The food in front of her looked absurdly good. Richly plated, neatly portioned. Fresh. It had the same kind of refined aesthetic the Lancaster household meals used to have. Not just luxury—prestige served on porcelain.

She noticed me stirring and glanced over, smirking.

"Why’d you sleep out here?" she asked between bites. "Don’t tell me you were worried about me. Aww, aren’t you just adorable?"

I didn’t have it in me to retort. My body still felt weirdly heavy, like I hadn’t rested at all. Like something had sunk into my bones overnight and refused to come out.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. "Not in the mood for your jokes today."

The fatigue clung to me like a second skin. I couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t just tiredness—it felt more... internal. Like my core had been drained somehow. Like someone had cursed me or something.

My thoughts drifted to Mia.

It had been nearly a month since I last checked in on her. No messages. No visits. Nothing. I’d been avoiding her.

If she hated me now, I wouldn’t even blame her.

Still sluggish, I dragged myself into the bathroom to wash up. The cold water didn’t help much—it woke up my senses, sure, but the heaviness didn’t go away.

Then something struck me. I’d been wearing the same damn uniform for days now. Didn’t even notice. I’d fallen into the same pit as every overworked MMO junkie—wearing the same thing until it basically fused with your skin.

Nope. That wasn’t gonna fly.

I had around 10k RHB on me. That should be enough for a change of clothes—maybe even some modern stuff. Something casual, breathable.

I paused mid-shampoo. Maybe I’ll get Kaelira something too... Something more modern would probably suit her better than her current half-rag, half-battle-armor outfit.

After stepping out of the shower and drying off, I sat down to eat the leftovers of Kaelira’s spread. The food was phenomenal. Every bite melted into my mouth with layers of flavor I couldn’t even name.

Maybe it was actually good.

Or maybe I was just trying to justify blowing 3k RHB on a one-night rental of this place.

With our bellies full, we both sank into the couch, lazily letting the morning pass.

I nudged her with my elbow. "Hey, Kael. Know any good clothing shops around here? I’ve been wearing this same crap for days. I need new clothes before I lose my last ounce of self-respect."

She raised a brow, still half-lounging. "Yeah, I know a few. You strike me as the casual clothing type. Loose shirts, low-maintenance."

I smirked. "You read me well."

I tilted my head toward her. "By the way, I’ll buy something for you too. You have any style in mind?"

She sat up a little straighter, suddenly taking the question a bit too seriously. Her brows furrowed in deep contemplation, as if I’d asked her to solve mana theory.

But after a few moments, she gave up and shrugged. "I don’t really have a ’style.’ I just wear my mercenary gear. It’s good for day-to-day chores and works as light armor. Two birds with one stone."

I let out a breath and shook my head. "You’re really pretty, Kael. You should take care of yourself more. A few style touches here and there, and boom—attraction level goes up by ten."

She laughed loudly at that, her voice echoing in the room. "You really have a way with words, you know that? How many girls have you swooned like that?"

I gave her a light chuckle, waving her off. "I’m not a playboy. There was just one girl. One real one. Who sticked close. She wasn’t the sharing type either. If someone tried to flirt with me, she’d stab them. Then stab me. She was wild... but that was also why I loved her."

The laughter died from her lips. Her smile dimmed, features softening like fog rolling over embers. She looked away slightly, a shadow passing through her expression.

Maybe she assumed the girl I spoke of was dead. It would explain the silence.

But she wasn’t dead.

She was just somewhere else—living her life in a world I’d left behind. Doing what she loved, in a life I didn’t belong to anymore.

I had no right to miss her.

Aside from Mia, she was the only person I would’ve died for. And ironically, she was also the one person I hated with every ounce of that same passion.

It was complicated.

She’d ruined my life—shattered it, twisted it, rebuilt it in her own image and then left it to rot.

A part of me still wondered if what I felt for her was ever real... or just some warped version of Stockholm Syndrome, dressed in obsession and laced with nostalgia.

Maybe I loved her because I was conditioned to. Maybe I hated her because I finally realized that.

Either way, she was gone. Gone when I was still on Earth. Gone from my life. And here—this world, this game, this second chance? There was no way she could ever show up.

That Chapter was closed.

Or so I kept telling myself.

I groaned, running a hand through my hair and forcing the thoughts out like smoke from tired lungs. "Let’s get going," I muttered, rising from the couch. "First stop is a clothing shop. Then we head to that battle royale competition. I heard Vaylin’s going to be there."

The second that name left my mouth, Kaelira’s fingers twitched—subtle, but sharp. A spasm of hatred. Her expression didn’t change much, but I caught the clenching of her jaw. She didn’t even speak. Just nodded, stood, and walked toward the door like she was being pulled by a wire.

She really hated that bastard.

And honestly? I understood. If someone did what he did to Mia, I wouldn’t just hate him. I’d erase his existence. I’d make his family line suffer across seven generations. I’d drag his soul into the depths of a hell worse than hell. Torture him until he forgot what it meant to have hope.

So yeah. I got it.

We stepped outside into the street, the synthetic sunlight above bright and warm, but the mood between us stayed cool and quiet. We didn’t talk. We didn’t need to. There was an understanding—wordless, simmering beneath the silence.

After a few turns and a short walk, we found ourselves in one of the city’s shop districts. It was packed, of course.

The usual chaos of a modern digital hub—lines of storefronts, hover signs, floating advertisements, and all the unnecessary noise that came with it.

Shops for clothes, gadgets, trinkets, food. Some sold customized console skins, others peddled elixirs claiming to boost gaming reflexes by 0.1%. Snake oil for the simulation generation.

Eventually, we found a place that seemed like the perfect middle ground. Not too expensive. Not too run-down. Just balanced.

The name above the door read:

Casual The Best

A stupidly simple name, but it worked. Straight to the point. No weird acronyms. No "NeoThreads™" or "Xclo-Wear." Just... Casual. The Best. Fair enough.

As we stepped up to the entrance, a thin red sensor line scanned across us. A soft green beep confirmed we weren’t threats, thieves, or psychopaths—at least according to the shop’s standards—and the glass doors slid open with a faint mechanical hiss.

Inside, it felt like a miniature department store. Bright lighting. Organized sections. No staff in sight, just automated terminals and helpful floating displays that followed you around if you lingered too long in one area.

There were racks for everything—kids, adults, male, female, unisex, pets, and even accessories for in-game avatars. Some shops were ridiculous like that. A full aisle dedicated to console cosmetics? Only in a world like this.

And then—

I saw it.

The Cosplay Section.

It sat there like a forbidden shrine in a temple of taste. My eye twitched involuntarily. An involuntary grimace tugged at my lips.

I’d always thought cosplay was... an abomination. A colorful mess created by overenthusiastic nerds with too much time and money.

A sentiment I’d shared with Sophia, the girl who had no patience for roleplay, foreplay, or any kind of play. She was a firm believer of staight sex no nonsense.

She’d have scoffed at this place. Burned the entire aisle with her gaze.

And yet...

Standing here now, I had to admit—some of the outfits were actually impressive. Not all. Not most. But a few? Damn. The craftsmanship, the detail. It wasn’t just "dress-up." It was art.

Maybe the abomination had matured.

I didn’t realize I was staring until Kaelira gave a low snicker behind me.

"Don’t tell me you’re into that stuff," she said, smug amusement dripping from her voice. "It’s trash. No one actually wears that crap."

I gave her a sidelong glance but didn’t respond. Hands back in my pockets, I sauntered away toward the regular sections like I hadn’t just been caught ogling synthetic leather and magical girl capes.

She followed behind, a smirk still tugging at her lips. But I noticed something. Her eyes weren’t on me—they lingered on the cosplay section.

A beat too long.

Interesting.

Maybe she was bluffing when she dismissed it. Maybe she was secretly an otaku. A closet cosplayer with a tsundere core. freēnovelkiss.com

Who knew? I wasn’t going to call her out on it. Not yet. But I mentally filed it away under: Potential Leverage.

Eventually, we reached the women’s casual section. It felt like the right place to start.

Ladies first, after all.

I slowed to a stop in front of the displays and glanced at her. "Go wild. Pick something. My treat."

She eyed the racks like they were filled with cursed artifacts. Her expression twisted in visible disdain at the flowery, fluttery dresses on display—like they were actively insulting her mercenary soul.

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