A few blocks away, the suit store he wanted to go caught his eye. The front wall was all glass, showing everything inside.
He walked in.
No music. No doorbell. Just quiet and cold air from the AC units.
The place didn't need to impress anyone. It already knew it was top-tier.
A woman stood near the counter, folding a deep blue pocket square.
She had long brown hair tied in a loose braid and brownish eyes.
"Looking for something?" she asked.
Terrence ran his fingers over the sleeve of a charcoal suit near the entrance.
"Something dark, not too serious, comfortable… and ready to wear."
Her lips pulled into a soft smile. "Follow me."
She led him past rows of suits into a private fitting space. Mirrors covered every wall.
A small bench sat near the corner, next to an empty rack.
Without saying much, she brought out three overcoats, pants, and different colored undershirt, hanging them neatly on the rack.
"These just came in this week, and with limited stock,"
The first one was dark gray, almost black. The fabric was soft and stretchy, not stiff like normal suits.
Second suit was dark blue. No shine, no flashy details. It was smooth and clean.
Then, there was the last one.
Jet black. At first glance, it didn't even look like a suit. The jacket was slim, and the shoulders weren't big or square.
Terrence ran his hand down the sleeve.
"This one."
She gave a knowing smile. "Figured you'd pick that."
In the fitting room, he tried on the full outfit the woman had picked out for him—shirt, shoes, and all.
When he stepped out, the look was complete.
Clean, and put-together, but nothing flashy.
"Do you like it?" she asked.
"Yeah,"
Terrence didn't stop at that. He grabbed a few casual pieces for future use.
When the total came to $7,500, he barely blinked.
Numbers like that didn't faze him anymore with how much money he has.
"Can you deliver it tomorrow to this address?"
She nodded, typing into the system. "No problem. We will take care of it."
Terrence nodded and walked out of the store, satisfied with his purchase.
'It's still early… I wonder what I should do?' he thought while strolling down the street.
It was his birthday, and knowing that everything he knew would soon change, he found himself appreciating the little things.
The buildings, the blue sky, the birds flying overhead, even the traffic.
'That's right! I should at least go to that place!'
He remembered a famous cafe known for having the best cheesecake.
With the place so close, now was the perfect time to visit.
The café soon came into view, its sign hanging above the door.
Inside, there were plenty of people, mostly young women and couples, all enjoying their coffee.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside
His new look caught the attention of several people—especially the opposite sex.
A woman behind the register greeted him. "Welcome! What can I get for you today?"
"One whole piece of your best cheesecake and an iced latte,"
She was taken aback by the size of the order but figured he might be buying for a group.
"How many slices, sir?"
"Make it six slices,"
After paying, he scanned the room and picked an empty spot near the window.
While waiting for his order, another large group entered the cafe, their arrival loud and obnoxious.
'That girl…' he muttered quietly.
Blue eyes. Black hair. Her skin had a light brown tone, hinting at her mixed heritage.
She has a good figure that would make any men look at her body.
'Celine'.
There was no mistaking it—she was the hottest cheerleader during his high school days.
She sat at a table with four other attractive girls and three guys who looked like football players.
They wore varsity jackets from the college they attended, laughing loud enough to disturb some of the customers.
'Well, well… didn't think I will actually see her again.'
He recalled the last time they interacted.
Years ago, he was sitting quietly, reading a manga, and minding his own business.
Unfortunately, it was one of those issues with a lot of fan service. She walked by, noticed the page, and made a scene out of it.
Called him cartoon freak loud enough for the whole room to hear. With how popular she was, the nickname stuck.
He hated her back then—not because of the nickname, but because she actually called anime a cartoon. He tried to correct her, but she just laughed. So did everyone around her.
'She was just immature back then. I should let it go.'
But seeing her smile made his chest tighten.
Something in him started to boil—as if the old version of himself wanted payback.