CHAPTER 446: ROSE WITH THORNS (7)

He tilted his head, as if debating whether or not to answer.

Then, casually, as if saying something as ordinary as ’pass the salt,’ he said, "Loki."

"Loki?" Rose blinked. "Like the god of mischief?"

He smirked. "I do cause mischief."

"Of course you do," she muttered, sipping her tea. "Fitting name."

He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table and his chin on his palm. "What? You expected something boring? Like Brad?"

Rose squinted at him. "Honestly, yeah."

Loki chuckled, golden eyes twinkling. "Sorry to disappoint, pheasant."

She didn’t reply, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of her lips.

Rose had just finished cleaning up the plates when her phone buzzed. It was a call from Lilith.

She answered with a soft voice, "Hello?"

"Rose," Lilith’s voice came through, calm but with a teasing undertone, "I hope you haven’t forgotten to buy him clothes yet."

Rose blinked. "What? Why would I—?"

"Because he won’t. And if you leave it to him, your whole house is going to smell like a lost warzone." Lilith chuckled. "He’s lazy, he won’t bathe unless you drag him to hot water."

Rose’s mouth parted in disbelief. She turned to glance at the man now comfortably lying across her couch with a smug expression and a remote in hand.

"...You’re joking," she whispered into the phone.

"I wish I was," Lilith said dryly. "Buy him clothes, shampoo, toothpaste, soap—everything. Or else you’ll have a walking perfume of trouble lounging around your house for weeks."

"But I was going to watch a movie!" Rose whined.

"Cancel it," Lilith said in her usual firm tone. "Trust me. This is more important than seeing movies."

Rose sighed in defeat. "Fine."

When she hung up, she glared at the man on her couch. "You. Get up."

Loki looked at her lazily. "Why?"

"We’re going shopping."

He blinked. "Shopping?"

"For you. Clothes. Hygiene things. Soap. Deodorant. Maybe manners too if we find them on sale."

"Is this your way of courting me?" Loki asked with a smirk, his golden-brown eyes gleaming as he lounged across the couch like he owned the place.

Rose rolled her eyes so hard it gave her a headache. She grabbed her phone and quickly called the driver uncle—because heaven help her, she still didn’t know how to drive. And right now, she needed all the help she could get.

After washing her face and changing into a loose white blouse tucked into beige jeans, she slipped on her sandals and walked outside. Loki was already waiting at the door, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes but somehow looking like he’d just walked out of a fashion magazine.

The car was already parked outside.

Without a word, she opened the door and got in. Loki followed her, humming lazily under his breath, and sat beside her like a cat claiming a sunny spot.

For the first few minutes, Rose stayed quiet... But then, out of nowhere, she felt something soft brush against her hand.

She looked down.

Loki was absentmindedly playing with her fingers.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "W-Why are you playing with my fingers?!"

He didn’t even glance up. "Because they’re small and cute."

"Do you even know I’m a woman?!" she hissed, snatching her hand back. "You can’t just touch women without asking permission!"

Loki blinked slowly, then looked at her like she was the crazy one. "But you’re mine."

Rose froze. "What... did you just say?"

"I said," he repeated casually, leaning back with a lazy smile, "you’re mine."

Her heart did something weird in her chest. A little flutter, followed by a dramatic thud. She stared at him like he’d just confessed to being a time traveler.

"You—you can’t just say that!" she stammered. "That’s not how people work!"

He tilted his head, eyes locked onto her face. "I’m not people."

Rose was officially out of words.

Loki simply looked out the window, as if declaring her as his was the most natural thing in the world.

Meanwhile, Rose sat in stunned silence, trying to figure out if she was furious, flustered... or secretly flattered.

The car stopped smoothly outside the mall, and Rose stepped out.

Loki, on the other hand, stepped out like he was arriving at a red carpet event. His long black coat fluttered slightly as he walked beside her, hands in pockets, golden-brown eyes lazily surveying the mall like it was his kingdom.

"Act normal," Rose hissed under her breath.

"I am normal," Loki said, flipping his hair like some dramatic anime character. "You’re just underdressed."

"You’re wearing yesterday’s clothes."

"They’re vintage."

She rolled her eyes and dragged him toward the men’s clothing section.

As soon as they entered, the sales associate—a young woman barely holding onto her clipboard—turned, took one look at Loki... and froze.

Her eyes widened. Her jaw dropped a little. Then she blinked. Twice.

"Uh... hello, welcome to—um—sir, can I help you with—uh... pants?"

Rose sighed. Here we go.

"We need shirts and pants," Rose said.

The salesgirl, however, was not listening to her. She was too busy watching Loki as he ran his fingers along a row of jackets like he was judging their worthiness to be on his divine body.

"Sir, would you like to try this?" the girl asked.

Loki tilted his head and gave her the softest smirk. "Does it come with you?"

Rose choked.

The girl blushed so hard she looked like she’d swallowed a whole pepper. "I—I—um—I think it does NOT—sir—"

"Loki!" Rose yanked his sleeve like a mother dragging her toddler from the toy aisle. "Behave!"

"I am behaving," he muttered, snatching the blazer anyway. "She offered. I was just confirming the bonus features."

The salesgirl was now trembling and giggling into her clipboard.

As they walked to the fitting rooms, more sales associates started appearing—some pretending to "fold" things nearby just to sneak a glance at Loki.

One guy tripped over a mannequin’s foot while staring too hard.

Rose covered her face with one hand. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t," Loki said smugly. "You adore me. Just admit it."

"Try on the damn pants, demon."

"I’d rather try on your patience."

"IN THE CHANGING ROOM, LOKI."

"Alright, alright," he said, walking backward with a grin. "But don’t blame me when the mirror falls in love with me again."