The car slows as it enters the city. The muffled noise of the waking metropolis filters in through the glass.

Mira shifts slightly, mumbling, “Are we there?”

Adrian unfastens his seatbelt, glancing down at her. “Yeah. Stay still.”

One hand in his pocket—the very pocket where Mira remains hidden—he steps out of the car, the city waiting for them outside.

Adrian isn’t the shopping type. Especially not for… this kind of shopping.

His expression is unreadable as he walks through the city, blending into the crowd with his dark coat and sharp features. Inside his pocket, Mira stays quiet, only peeking through a small gap.The world outside moves so fast compared to her tiny form.

He pulls out his phone and types in a search. ‘Doll store near me.’

Click.

Directions appear. A 15-minute walk. Adrian sighs. This is going to be ridiculous.

As Adrian pushes open the glass doors of the doll shop, a bell jingles cheerfully. Instantly, he’s hit with an overwhelming sight—rows upon rows of delicate porcelain dolls, miniature furniture, and tiny clothes.

The soft pastel colors of the shop clash aggressively with his all-black attire and serious expression. A few shoppers—mostly women and children—immediately take notice.
A tall, handsome boy, dressed sharply in dark colors… in a doll shop?

What is this scene?

The store clerk, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, approaches. “Oh my! Are you looking for something for your little sister?”

Adrian pauses. He could lie. That’s a reasonable excuse. But somehow, that feels like extra effort.

Instead, he clears his throat. “I need doll clothes. A variety of them. Plus furniture and tableware.”

The woman’s eyes sparkle. “Oh! What kind of doll do you have? What size?”

Adrian hesitates. How does he even answer that?

Inside his pocket, Mira is silently dying of secondhand embarrassment. This is too much. Too much. Why is he handling this so coldly?!

The store clerk giggles. “You must really love your doll to be buying so many things at once!”

Adrian, deadpan: “Something like that.”

The whispers in the store grow. Who is he? Is he a collector? A rich boy with a strange hobby? A secret doll enthusiast?!

Meanwhile, nestled safely in the inner fold of his coat pocket, Mira peeks out—just enough to see the world, not enough to be seen. Or so she thinks.

Across the aisle, a tiny human—barely three years old—toddles past with wide eyes and a face sticky from whatever treat she last consumed. Her gaze flicks to the coat pocket.

Then stops.

Mira’s breath catches. Green eyes stare into brown ones. A beat. Then another.

The child tilts her head and blinks.

Mira freezes, going stiff like a showroom mannequin, willing herself to be doll-like

Perhaps too doll-like. Because the child steps closer and whispers with awe, “Mommy… his doll just blinked.”

Her mother, busy examining a price tag, replies absently, “Sweetie, dolls don’t blink.

“But this one did!

Her mother gives a distracted hum, still not looking up. “That’s a very detailed imagination you’ve got there.”

“She blinked again! In his pocket! She has silver hair and green eyes! I want one just like that!”

Her mother, busy examining a price tag, doesn’t even look up. “You already have too many dolls, sweetie.”

Her mother gives the standard grown-up hum of disinterest, but the girl stands her ground, staring like a hawk scouting prey. Mira, still stiff, begins calculating how long a small child’s attention span usually lasts.

Not long enough. She gives an involuntary blink.

The child gasps.

Adrian turns just slightly, his eyes darting toward his coat pocket with a perfectly casual expression—not too quick, not too obvious—then turns back to the display rack, shielding Mira with the broad drape of his coat.

“Hey,” he says under his breath, without moving his lips, “you’re supposed to be a doll.”

Inside the pocket, Mira dares not even breathe.

The child, still pointing, says with urgency, “Mommy, please, can I have the blinking doll? She’s magic!”

Her mother finally looks up, catches sight of Adrian—decidedly not the type to be wandering around with blinking dolls—and smiles politely. “Let’s not bother other shoppers, sweetheart.”

As the jingling bell signals the little girl’s exit, Mira exhales slowly, her heart hammering against a chest the size of a blueberry.

Adrian glances down at her, hiding a smirk. “We may need to get you sunglasses next time.”

After an overwhelming selection process, Adrian ends up with: A variety of doll-sized outfits. Miniature furniture, and basic essentials. Some tiny shoes, just in case.

The store clerk rings up the items, smiling. “That will be—”

Adrian exhales, swiping his card without a word.

Mira, still hidden, feels a pang of guilt.

As they step out of the store, bags in hand, Adrian finally speaks.

“You better pay me back for this. Or at least… owe me a favor. This is way too much kindness for someone like me.”

Mira, still feeling guilty, hesitates. “…I’ll think of something.”

Adrian smirks slightly. At least she knows.

Adrian walks through the city streets, carrying a bag filled with doll clothes, a dollhouse, and an assortment of miniature furniture.

His expression remains as neutral as ever, but inside, he’s contemplating every life decision that led him to this moment.

Passersby glance at him—some with curiosity, others with amusement.

A tall, brooding young man, dressed in black… holding a pastel-colored shopping bag filled with tiny, frilly dresses?

Hilarious.

Inside his pocket, Mira is trying not to laugh.

He looks ridiculous.

But also… kinda cool, in a weird way?

Adrian suddenly speaks in a low voice. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Mira flinches. Damn it. He caught that.

She quickly denies. “I-I didn’t say anything!”

“Your silence is loud.”

Mira pouts but doesn’t argue.