Superior

CHAPTER TWELVE: Raiker

Rows of polished, elegant tuxedos lined the racks of the cavernous clothes store which I had found a few kilometers or so outside the Superiot, near the vast shopping centre of Eligera. Of course, this shop was meant for obscenely rich men who enjoyed rocking ostentatious clothes on a daily basis, but I was here for a special occasion. The Opening Gala! Everybody's absolute favourite event.

I swear to whatever celestial being that watches over us, I hate hate hate buying tuxedos. They're all so expensive, and stiff, and there are so damn many layers. Then they have to be tailored to fit you perfectly, and constantly dry-cleaned and ironed and whatnot. I wish I could groan and run away from the smell.

I was hardly even focusing at this point, staring blankly at Black Suit #1 and Black Suit #2. In the background, Fatima chuckled, watching me slowly suffer and die. Her tall heels clicked towards me, and she placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Rai, honey, do you need help with that?"

I whirled around and glared at her. "Fatima, do you like seeing my agony?"

"I do. I'm so cruel, aren't I?"

I rolled my eyes. "What are you even doing here, anyway? I thought you had 'better things to do'"

"I suppose I'm helping you choose a tuxedo. Yes, Raiker, it's a tuxedo, not a suit. Sometimes, I just wonder how you even got into a Superiot, let alone the Eligera Superiot"

"I don't need any help. Go... deal with Aisa or something. She nearly failed all her beauty subjects. The poor thing'll probably end up dropping out before we even begin accomplishing our mission."

She looked like she was going to whine and nag and complain, but seemed to think better of it when I raised an eyebrow at her.

"How do you expect me to help that while still trying to look flawless myself?"

"Figure it out. You're capable of it."

Fatima rolled her eyes. "Fine. Have fun figuring out your tuxedo on your own, I guess."

With a toss of her hair, she flipped around and walked away, the click-clack of her heels receding. Good riddance. I turned back to the suits... and immediately regretted letting her leave.

Dammit. Why did I have to send her away?

***

I finally chose Black Suit (sorry, tuxedo) #2, with its smooth velvety jacket fabric; rich, elaborate pleated shirt design; elegant satin facing on the lapels, buttons, pocket trim, and a satin side stripe down the leg of the trousers; as well as perfectly matched, handsome blue pocket square and bow tie. The shop man's words, not mine. Definitely not mine. I even paid for it using my Receiver. This better be worth 9,000 Assets.

I tried the cursed thing on, and immediately wanted to burn it.

Where should I begin? The jacket and the collar were horribly stiff, the cummerbund was too tight, the bow tie was practically choking me, and I felt absolutely horrible.

The shop man had a no-refund policy. He didn't seem to get the words I was trying to communicate to him with my overly wide smile and murderous eyes.

I WANT A REFUND, YOU PIECE OF DIRTY SHEET.

Guess I was wearing Black Suit #2, then. Words cannot express how incredibly... ecstatic I was.

***

Walking into my dorm with the heavy bag that contained the suit, I immediately plopped onto the bed.

10:00 AM. Crap. The gala was in a few hours. Better start getting ready now.

I got up, ever so carefully pulling the tuxedo out of the bag and separating out the many, many parts. The process of changing clothes is incredibly mundane, if I may say so myself. I'll spare you the details of the 90 minute long activity, but it may or may not have included several selective words I reserved especially for these occasions and an embarrassing amount of concealer.

***

Half an hour to the gala, half an hour to kill. It brought me back to the whirling ocean of thought in my brain.

I mused over yesterday's incidents. My cover slipped in front of Aisa. It might have been only for a moment, but it slipped. I had fed the poor dog. Did she notice? There had been an almost imperceptible change in her demeanor. I couldn't really see what it was though. But she genuinely smiled more, and honestly, seemed a lot less clumsy. She had gotten more... perceptive. What if she did notice last night? She must have thought I was being ridiculous.

Then something in me took over, washing away those feelings like an ocean tide, replacing it with anger. Why did I care what she thought of me?

I spiralled down to a darker place from there. Why was it that I had to hide a smile or a blush every time she was around? She was a challenge, a threat to my beliefs and my agenda. She should be nothing more than a mission to me.

But why was she becoming so much more?