I Just Wanted A Soft Life, Not A Demon Husband

Chapter 122: Feathers, Fabric, and Fault Lines

Elyn’s POV

After what felt like hours of waiting—shuffling forward inch by inch, listening to demons complain loudly about fabrics, prices, and each other—we finally stepped foot into the shop.

And immediately, chaos followed.

Someone shoved past us from behind, hard enough that Azerion stumbled forward. It happened fast—too fast. One moment he was at my side, the next his body went taut, shoulders rolling back, pupils narrowing into sharp slits.

Oh no.

I grabbed him instantly, fingers curling into his sleeve, yanking him back against me just before he attacked. I felt it then—that dangerous, coiled tension under his skin. Azerion wasn’t just annoyed. He was offended. And offended Syrenthis were... well, they were as dangerous as a normal Syrenthis, I thought.

"Azerion," I said quietly, warning threaded through his name.

He hissed under his breath, his fake tail flicking once, twice. His gaze locked onto the demon who had pushed him—a tall, horned woman with scaled arms who didn’t even bother to look back.

"Don’t even dare," I told him in warning.

"But she pushed me," he muttered.

"I know," I murmured, tightening my hold. "And she’s not worth the mess."

His fingers twitched like he was deciding between obedience and violence. For a terrifying second, I genuinely thought I might have to physically restrain him.

Then he exhaled sharply and looked up at me instead.

"...Fine."

Relief flooded me so fast my knees nearly buckled.

"Good," I said, then added under my breath, "because I really don’t want to explain murder in a clothing shop. And give up our cover."

That earned me a faint, sulky huff.

Once my heart stopped trying to escape my ribcage, I finally let myself look around.

And gods.

The shop was stunning. From the outside, one wouldn’t even expect much. But inside... that was a different case.

I immediately understood why this place was one of the most sought-after clothing houses in the beast territory. The interior stretched wide and deep, far larger than it had appeared from outside. Soft golden light spilled from enchanted fixtures overhead, bathing everything in a warm glow that made even dark fabrics shimmer.

Clothes were arranged with almost reverent care.

Silks that flowed like they were almost liquid. Lace so fine it looked like it was spun from moonlight. Chiffon, organza, velvet, brocade, satin, muslin, fine wool, scaled leather treated until it was supple as fabric. There were materials I didn’t even recognize—fabrics that shifted color when you moved, threads that faintly glowed, cloth that looked alive.

Everything was art.

I found myself nodding slowly, lips parting slightly as I walked further in. This wasn’t just a shop. It was a statement.

I reached out and picked up a dress from a nearby rack. It was deep emerald, the fabric cool beneath my fingers, the cut elegant and sharp in a way that suggested power without screaming for attention. I held it up against myself, studying the lines, the way it would fall at the waist, how the neckline dipped just enough to be daring without being reckless.

It was beautiful. Even Azerion agreed.

After a moment, I lowered it and carefully returned it to its place. I wasn’t here to buy, after all.

I scoured through the shop, holding clothes against me so it would not look like I was just here for something else that didn’t even relate to buying.

But perhaps even that wasn’t good enough.

I had just returned a dress to where I took it from when I heard someone clear their throat behind me.

I turned in surprise and came face to face with a staff member.

He had the head of an owl—feathers mottled in shades of cream and brown, large intelligent eyes magnified by a pair of round goggles perched neatly on his beak. His body, however, was entirely human, dressed in a crisp shirt and tailored trousers that gave him an air of scholarly professionalism.

"Good afternoon," he said warmly. "My name is Therion. I’m one of the sales associates here."

His voice was smooth, practiced.

"I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been admiring several pieces," Therion continued, tilting his head slightly, "but you haven’t selected anything yet. Is there something specific you’re looking for—or perhaps the clothes do not fit your taste?"

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Oh, it’s not that there’s nothing I like."

"Ah," he said, smiling knowingly.

"It’s more like," I continued, gesturing vaguely around us, "there’s far too much that I like."

Therion chuckled. "We hear that quite often."

He glanced down, eyes flicking to Azerion. "I can also assist you and your son, if you’d like."

I froze.

Then I looked at Azerion.

He was glaring at Therion like he was already planning six different ways to bite him.

I snorted quietly. "He’s not my son."

Therion blinked. "Oh. My apologies."

"He’s my cousin," I corrected, still amused.

Azerion lifted his chin slightly, clearly pleased with that clarification.

"I see," Therion said, nodding. "In that case, I should inform you of our shop’s policy."

Something in his tone made the back of my neck prickle.

"We have a designated area for children," he explained gently. "Whenever families shop, we keep young ones there. It’s safer, quieter, and prevents... disturbances."

"Normally, children aren’t permitted inside the main floor at all," he continued, adjusting his goggles. "But since your cousin is already here, I can escort him to the play area. There are others his age there."

My mind sharpened instantly. My brain was already dissecting why that made very little sense.

I smiled politely anyway, deciding to play along. "I’m afraid I can’t just part with him."

Therion’s expression didn’t change. "I understand. It was an oversight on your part, forgetting the rules."

"That’s on me," I agreed smoothly.

"No problem at all," he said pleasantly. Then his tone shifted—just slightly. Firmer. "However, even with that understanding, your cousin cannot remain on the main floor. He has to go to the designated area."

I held his gaze for a long moment, my brain already working things out. Why did no one stop me if children were not allowed in the shop? And besides, I saw some others with their kids entering the shop. Was this how they got some of the children?

We’ll just have to see.

Then I nodded. "I appreciate your concern. Could you give me a moment to speak with him first?"

"Of course," Therion said, stepping back.

I turned immediately and guided Azerion toward a quieter corner between two tall shelves. The moment we were out of earshot, he grabbed my sleeve.

"I’m not leaving you," he said with all the bravado of a child who was supposed to be my protector.

I crouched so we were eye level. "Azerion."

"No," he repeated, shaking his head. "If something goes wrong, you won’t be able to protect yourself."

I almost laughed.

"There’s no way that would happen," I said gently.

I might not be a demon, but I could defend myself, after all.

"And besides—your best way of protecting me right now is going with them," I told him.

He frowned deeply. "I don’t like it. The demon is suspicious."

"And that is exactly why you must go. He is suspicious, and I don’t like him," I said, lowering my voice. "Remember, we came here for something. I think this is important. If this is how they take some of the children they sell, then you need to see it. We came here to find the real people running this trafficking behind the scenes, after all. The main base—I think there’s something here."

He hesitated, internal war clear on his face.

Finally, he sighed loudly. "Fine."

I smiled, relief washing through me, and pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. I didn’t even register that Azerion had stars in his eyes from that action. I also didn’t register that this was going to turn out to be a problem days later—but that was a story for another day.

"Thank you," I told Azerion. "I’ll have Kethra prepare snacks for you when we get back to the castle."

"Sweet ones?" he asked.

"Would you want anything else?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Alright, let’s head back," I told Azerion, who nodded.

We walked back to Therion, who had been watching us discreetly from a distance.

"I just needed to reassure him," I said with an easy smile. "You know how children are—always reluctant to leave who they’re with. I’m sure you’ve experienced that."

Therion nodded sympathetically. "Very often."

Bullseye.

I watched as he bent slightly toward Azerion. "I won’t hurt you. You can come with me," he said kindly. "And there will be snacks where I’m taking you to. You like snacks, right?"

Azerion’s ears perked up instantly, his fake ears twitching.

"...Snacks?" he asked.

Therion smiled. "Yes."

Azerion nodded once, seemingly bought by the thought of snacks. "Okay."

And this was the demon that was meant to be protecting me.

I watched with a smile as fake as Zorathys’s eagerness to work as Therion turned back to me. "I’ll be right back. I’ll just drop him off and then show you around."

I nodded and waved, forcing a smile as he led Azerion away.

Azerion waved at me with a grin.

The plan was set.