Chapter 33: The Perfect Dress
The limousine slowed as it turned into Dillion’s apartment complex.
Glossy black paint reflecting cracked pavement and a flickering streetlight.
The car did not belong here.
“Yeah,” Dillion said quietly. “This is me.”
The driver stepped out and opened the door.
Cool night air hit his face as he stepped onto the pavement.
Mika leaned toward the open door slightly.
“You good?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
She studied him.
“Ride’s always here for you. To and from Eden. You don’t have to deal with crowds.”
He knew what she meant.
The chanting,The phones, The Questions
The spot light is everything Dillion avoided his whole life.
“I’ll text you,” he said.
She nodded once. “Good.”
The door shut softly. The limousine pulled away, disappearing down the street.
And just like that, He was alone again.
Dillion climbed the stairs to his third-floor unit. The hallway light flickered like it always did.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
Small kitchen. Old couch. Laundry basket he still hadn’t folded.
Nothing had changed.
God-tier encounter.
Corporate boardroom.
One hundred thousand credits sitting untouched in his Eden account.
And here the sink still dripped.
He dropped his keys in the bowl and walked straight to his room.
Didn’t even change.
Just collapsed onto the bed.
The ceiling fan spun lazily above him.
Sleep hit hard.
His phone started vibrating violently against the nightstand.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Dillion groaned and grabbed it without opening his eyes.
ELLIE ?? calling.
He answered.
“What.”
“WHY DID I WAKE UP TO YOU FIGHTING A GOD.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear.
“Good morning.”
“Don’t good morning me!”
He squinted at the clock.
Late morning.
“How are you even awake?”
“Because my entire feed is YOU.”
He blinked slowly.
“…Oh.”
“Oh? That’s all you have?”
He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
“It happened yesterday.”
“And you didn’t call me?”
“I was busy not dying.”
A pause.
“…You FOUGHT a god.”
“Yes.”
“Like the big ones?”
“Yes.”
“The ones that trend for weeks?”
“Yes Ellie.” Dillion Said as he yawned and stretched.
Silence..... then
“That is SO COOL.”
He smiled despite himself. “You’re impossible.”
“I watched three edits before calling you,” she continued rapidly. “There’s one with dramatic music where you look like you actually know what you’re doing.”
“Hey I kinda do know what I’m doing.”
“Debatable.”
He rubbed his face.
“Is this why you called?”
“…No.”
He waited.
“I need you to drive me.”
He let his arm fall over his eyes.
“For what.”
“My dance.”
He peeked at the clock again.
“That’s not today.”
“No. It’s in three days. Which means I need an outfit now.”
“Can’t Mom take you?”
“She’s working.”
“Dad?”
“He thinks sparkly means glitter glue.”
“…Fair.”
She kept going.
“I’ve been saving for months. I finally have enough. I just need a ride.”
He paused.
“You don’t want help paying?”
“I have a job, Dillion,” she said proudly. “I am financially independent.”
“You work eight hours a week at a smoothie place.”
“And I dominate that smoothie place.”
He snorted.
He sighed.
“You’re lucky I love you.”
“I know.”
He shifted, sitting up more fully on the edge of the bed.
“Where.”
“The mall near Eden.”
He froze. “No.”
“Yes Dilly.”
“No.”
“Yessss.”
“I am not walking into a mall near Eden right now.”
“Relax,” she said. “You’re not the president.”
He stared at the ceiling.
“They were chanting my nickname yesterday, and Security had to walk me out the building.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“That’s because your iconic now!.”
“It is not iconic.”
“It absolutely is.”
Okay fine, When do you want me to take you?
Silence......Then, His doorbell rang.
Dillion stared at his bedroom door.
“…Ellie.”
“Hmm?”
“Tell me you’re not at my apartment.”
Another knock.
This time louder.
“Dill!” her voice shouted faintly through the door. “Open up!”
He closed his eyes.
“You’re at my door.”
“Yep.”
“You live twenty minutes away.”
“And I wanted to make sure you didn’t ‘accidentally’ fall back asleep.”
The doorbell rang again. Rapid. Aggressive.
“Ellie why do you do this”
“Hurry up, Water Gun!”
He dragged a hand down his face.
“I just woke up.”
“And I’ve been outside for six minutes.”
“Why didn’t you just text me when you got here?”
“I did.”
He checked his phone.
Three unread messages.
[LIL SIS ??]: I’m here
[LIL SIS ??]: Open the door
[LIL SIS ??]: If you’re still asleep I swear—
The doorbell rang again.
“Okay!” he shouted toward the living room.
Into the phone he muttered, “You’re insane.”
“And yet you’re still getting dressed.”
He stood up.
“You better have told Mom you’re here.”
“Relax. Dad dropped me off. He thinks we’re going to the normal mall.”
He walked toward the front door.
“You are not selling photos of me.”
“No promises.”
He unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Ellie stood there with a tote bag slung over her shoulder and entirely too much excitement in her eyes.
She looked him up and down.
“You look like you just fought a god.”
“I did.”
“Cool. Let’s go.”
He stepped aside so she could walk in.
I heard they are calling you a God Slayer now
Well this God Slayer is chauffeuring his fourteen-year-old sister.
He locked the door behind them.
“Ten minutes,” he said. “I need coffee.”
“You can get it at the mall.”
He stopped. “Nope.” Joe First then we go.
She grinned.
“Well get a Move on, Water Gun.”
And for the first time since the boardroom
Dillion laughed.
Ellie wandered into the kitchen, opening the fridge without asking.
“You still don’t buy snacks,” she called out.
“I buy real food,” Dillion’s voice echoed from the bathroom.
“Lies.”
Water shut off.
A few moments later, the bathroom door opened.
Dillion stepped out, pulling a fitted dark t-shirt down over his shoulders.
Ellie froze.
“…Woah.”
He glanced at her.
“What.”
She tilted her head slowly.
“Water Gun.”
“Don’t.”
“You look different.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Different how.”
She gestured vaguely at him.
“You’ve got… shoulders now.”
He looked down at himself, adjusting the hem of the shirt.
“Oh. That.”
“That,” she repeated. “You put on muscle.”
He shrugged lightly, but there was quiet pride under it.
“Yeah. I’ve been training.”
“You?” she said flatly. “Voluntarily?”
He smirked slightly.
“In Sora, your body’s boosted by skills. Strength modifiers. Reaction scaling. Stamina buffs.”
She blinked.
“Translation.”
“My stats go up in there,” he explained. “But the neural load doesn’t change. Reaction time, endurance, pain tolerance — that’s still me. If I gas out here, I gas out there.”
She stared at him.
“That’s… kind of intense.”
He grabbed his hat from the counter.
“I lost enough fights to figure that out.”
She paused at that.
“You’ve been losing?”
“A lot.”
He pulled the shirt straight across his chest.
“If I want to keep up with high-tier encounters, I can’t be the weak link in real life.”
She studied him for another second.
“…Okay. That’s actually cool.”
He grabbed a black face mask and looped it over his ears.
Then lowered a cap over his hair.
Less public figure.
More random guy at the mall.
He looked at her.
“You ready to go?”
She crossed her arms, smirking.
“You’re definitely getting recognized.”
He grabbed his keys.
“Let’s hope not.”
She grinned.
“Oh this is going to be fun.”
He groaned.
“Why do I feel like I’m the one being supervised.”
“Because you are.”
He opened the door.
Third recorded god clear.
Public anomaly.
Divine soul carrier.
Currently driving his little sister to buy a dance dress.
He locked the apartment behind them.
“Move, chauffeur,” Ellie said dramatically.
He shook his head.
“Unbelievable.”
But he was smiling.
The mall near Eden was bigger than the one near Ellie’s house.
Brighter.
Cleaner.
More polished.
Which made Dillion slightly uncomfortable.
He adjusted his mask and lowered the brim of his hat as they walked inside.
No one looked twice.
No chanting.
No whispers.
Just normal people shopping.
Ellie spun once in the middle of the entrance.
“Okay,” she declared. “Mission: Iconic.”
“You’re fourteen,” Dillion muttered.
“And cultured.”
They started at the first store.
Ellie held up a glitter-heavy dress.
Dillion squinted.
“You’d look like a disco ball.”
She gasped dramatically.
“You don’t understand fashion.”
“I understand that’s reflective enough to signal aircraft.”
She smacked his arm.
“Rude.”
She tried it on anyway.
It lasted thirty seconds before she stepped out shaking her head.
“Too loud.”
“Thank God.”
Ellie came out wearing something overly dramatic.
Puffy sleeves.
Layered fabric.
Way too much going on.
Dillion blinked.
“…Are you starring in a period drama?”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You’re banned from opinions.”
He held up his hands.
“Just trying to protect you from future embarrassment.”
She sighed and disappeared back into the fitting room.
This one slowed her down.
She walked more carefully through the racks.
Less joking.
More serious.
Dillion noticed.
He leaned against a pillar near the mirror while she held up dress after dress.
“This one?”
“Nice.”
“This one?”
“Looks uncomfortable.”
“This one?”
He paused.
“…That’s actually good.”
She glanced at him.
“You’re not joking.”
“No.”
She looked at the tag.
Her smile faltered.
“Never mind.”
She put it back.
He noticed.
But didn’t say anything.
This store was quieter.
More elegant.
Less chaos.
Ellie slowed to a near stop halfway through the racks.
Her fingers brushed over a deep blue dress.
Simple.
Clean lines.
Flowing fabric.
Not flashy.
Not glittery.
Just… confident.
She pulled it off the hanger.
“I’m just trying it,” she said quickly. “Not saying anything.”
“Uh huh.”
A few minutes later, the fitting room curtain opened.
Dillion looked up.
And blinked.
The blue fit her perfectly.
It wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t childish.
It wasn’t trying too hard.
It just… worked.
Ellie stood awkwardly in front of the mirror.
“Well?”
He didn’t tease.
Didn’t joke.
“…That’s the one.”
She turned slowly.
“You’re not just saying that.”
“No.”
She looked at herself again.
Her smile grew.
Just a little.
Then she checked the tag.
And it vanished.
$5,000 Credits.
Silence.
Dillion watched her shoulders drop.
“Oh.”
She tried to hide it.
“I mean… it’s fine.”
She stepped back into the fitting room.
When she came out, she was already changing back.
He waited near the counter.
She reappeared holding the dress carefully.
“I guess we can go back to the last store,” she said casually.
“That red one was in my price range.”
Her tone was light.
Too light.
He didn’t move.
She avoided his eyes.
“I’ve got like 1,500 saved,” she added quickly. “Which is actually really good. That’s like three months of smoothies.”
He nodded.
“That is impressive.”
She folded the dress carefully and handed it to the attendant.
“Thanks,” she said politely.
Then she turned toward him.
“Let’s go.”
He didn’t move.
“Dill?”
“You really like it?”
She shrugged.
“It’s whatever.”
Silence.
“…It’s not whatever,” he said gently.
She looked away.
“It’s fine.”
She started walking toward the exit.
“I don’t need it.”
Her voice was steady.
But she didn’t sound convinced.
Ellie walked toward the exit, hands shoved into the straps of her tote bag.
“I don’t need it,” she said lightly. “It’s just a dance.”
Dillion watched her for half a second.
Then he moved.
He turned, stepped back to the rack, and lifted the blue dress off the return hanger before the attendant could slide it away.
He walked straight to the counter.
“We’ll take this one,” he said calmly.
The words landed softly.
Ellie froze mid-step.
“…What?”
The cashier smiled politely.
“Of course.”
Ellie spun around.
“Dillion. No. No, no, no.”
He didn’t look at her.
He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and placed his card on the counter.
“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered urgently, stepping closer. “It’s five thousand.”
“I know.”
“Dill.”
He didn’t answer.
The cashier scanned the tag.
The number flashed on the screen.
5,000 Credits.
Ellie grabbed his arm.
“I have money,” she said quickly. “I saved. I can get something else.”
“I know you did.”
He still didn’t look at her.
The terminal chimed softly.
He tapped his card.
Processing.
Ellie stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
“You talk all the time saying your Job doesn't pay enough.”
“It doesn't.”
“Then why would you”
Approved., The sound of the receipt printing made Ellie's heart
The cashier folded the dress carefully into tissue paper and slid it into a branded bag.
Dillion took the bag.
“Thank you,” she said as she started to wipe small tears from here eye's.
Only then did he finally look at Ellie.
“You worked hard,” he said simply. “Get the one you want.”
She blinked in amazement she didn’t know what to say.
“You didn’t have to,” she said again, quieter now.
“I wanted to.”
She looked at the bag.
Then back at him.
Then down at the floor.
Her voice softened.
“…You’re making me cry in public.”
He smirked slightly.
“Please don’t.”
She swatted his arm, but it lacked its usual energy.
“Idiot,” she muttered.
But she was smiling.
He handed her the bag.
She held it like it was fragile.
Precious.
Not because of the price.
Because of what it meant.
“Thank you,” she said again.
This time not arguing.
Not protesting.
Just meaning it.
He shrugged lightly.
“Smoothie queen deserves the upgrade.”
She laughed through it, wiping at her eyes quickly.
“Shut up.”
They walked out of the store together.
No one noticed them.
No one whispered.
No one chanted.
Just a brother and his sister leaving a mall with a dress in a bag.
And for once
Dillion didn’t feel like Water Gun.
He just felt like himself.
They drifted toward the exit slowly, weaving through the late afternoon crowd.
It had been hours.
Store after store.
Opinions.
Teasing.
Arguments over sleeves and fabric.
By the time they reached the main corridor again, the sunlight coming through the skylights had shifted warmer.
Dillion glanced at a digital clock near the escalators.
3:57 PM.
“Four hours,” he muttered. “That’s endurance training.”
“You survived,” Ellie said proudly, hugging the dress bag to her chest.
“Barely.”
They walked toward the main entrance when Ellie suddenly stopped mid-step.
Her eyes locked onto something ahead.
“Oh.”
Dillion already knew that tone.
“No.”
“Ice cream.”
“Ellie.”
She turned slowly, smiling like a villain.
“It’s basically tradition.”
“It is not.”
She pointed dramatically toward a small stand near the center of the atrium.
“Victory ice cream.”
“You bought the dress. That’s your victory.”
“And you bought the dress. That’s your victory too.”
He sighed.
“You want one?”
She gasped.
“Obviously.” She said
She squinted at him.
“You?”
He thought for a second.
“Smoothie.”
She froze.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
She covered her mouth in horror.
“Barf...”
He frowned.
“What.”
“I am not going anywhere near smoothies on my day off.”
“You work at a smoothie place.”
“Exactly.”
She stepped backward dramatically.
“The Smell of blended fruit? Trauma.”
He shook his head. “You’re dramatic.”
She shoved the dress bag into his hands.
“Hold this.”
“Ellie”
“I’ll be back, Water Gun!”
She skipped off toward the ice cream stand without another word.
Dillion froze.
“…Don’t say that in public,” he muttered under his breath.
A couple walking past glanced briefly.
Not recognition.
Just curiosity at the nickname.
He lifted a hand and covered his face in mild embarrassment.
“Unbelievable.”
He shifted the dress bag carefully in his grip.
The mall noise hummed around him.
Families.
Footsteps.
Music from a nearby store.
Normal.
Completely normal.
Then—
A hand tapped his shoulder.
Light.
Casual.
“Yo, Water Gun.”
Dillion stiffened.
He lowered his hand slowly from his face and turned.
“…Long time no see.”
The voice was smooth.
Confident.
Amused.
Dillion’s stomach dropped.
Standing behind him, hands in his jacket pockets, expression relaxed like he was greeting an old friend—
Was Death Walker.
Jerry Houston.
Smirking.
