{Chapter: 193 - Hypnotic woman}
The bustling city of New York needs no grand introduction. Towering skyscrapers loomed like ancient giants, streets pulsed with life, and every corner teemed with people chasing something—money, dreams, or simply survival. The city never slept, and neither, it seemed, did its desires.
Aiden strolled through the upscale fashion district with Rene beside him, their presence a striking contrast against the designer-glossed crowd. Aiden, half-Asian with refined features and magnetic charm, wore a luxury brand suit gifted by the hotel. It clung perfectly to his tall frame, enhancing the mystery that seemed to follow him. Beside him, Rene, tall and dark-skinned with sharp confidence in his gait, kept pace with an easy smirk and a guarded gaze.
They entered one of the city's most prestigious women's fashion boutiques, a place dripping with wealth, class, and vanity. The moment Aiden stepped inside, the mood shifted. Staff straightened their spines, adjusting smiles. Noticing the platinum credit card flashing from his pocket and the designer watch glinting on his wrist, they surged like sharks scenting blood in luxury waters.
Under the influence of Aiden's green charm, the boutique transformed into a private showcase. Tailors scrambled. Stylists sprinted. Champagne appeared before it was requested. And when he began throwing around money like a tycoon at a fashion apocalypse, the staff responded with practiced grace—and handwritten notes containing phone numbers slipped discreetly into his coat pocket.
He took them all. He threw them all away.
Aiden wasn't tasteless.
He wasn't a man who chased anything that moved in heels. He had standards—dangerously high ones.
"That red silk one," he said, lounging on a velvet chaise with a lazy smile. "Natasha would wear it like it was made of knives."
The saleswoman blinked. "Knives, sir?"
"Deadly and elegant," he clarified.
He ordered dresses for them all. One by one, the women who shaped his strange, world-hopping life flashed through his mind like stars orbiting a sun.
Daisy Johnson? Leather, dark denim, black tops with attitude. He picked a cropped leather jacket lined with crimson silk and paired it with combat-ready heels. She wouldn't wear dresses. But she'd rock destruction in a street queen outfit.
Jemma Simmons? Soft lavender chemises, smart blouses with tiny pearl buttons, and the kind of nightwear meant to be removed slowly. Science never looked so seductive.
Susan Storm? Blue gowns that floated like stardust. He chose an evening dress that shimmered in waves, elegant and regal. Underneath, lace so sheer it would only exist for whispers in the dark.
Clarice Ferguson? High silks. Iridescent colors. Barely-there straps. Aiden had an outfit commissioned that looked like teleportation itself—shimmering, edgy, made to vanish.
Lady Sif? Fur-trimmed, armored gowns with a feral cut. A blood-red nightgown made of red silk was added for contrast—intimidating, raw, and mythic.
Carol Farris? Precision. White blazer-dresses with silver fasteners. A black corset-style top beneath, sharp enough to command an army.
Pepper Potts? Business glam. Sleek pencil skirts, sensual silks in neutral tones, and heels that said "CEO by day, mistress by night."
Laurel Lance? Jet black. Lace corsets. Leather. Thigh-high boots. A dress that dared someone to disobey her.
Kira and Mei? Ravewear. Wild, hot pink and electric blue pieces made for dancing until morning. For Mei—he added glitter-laced translucent tops that barely met the definition of clothing.
And finally, Claire Bennet. Aiden took his time. Something white. Innocent. Soft cotton dresses, but with slits and cuts that hinted at rebellion. A silk teddy so delicate it seemed stolen from a dream.
Aiden didn't just buy a few designer dresses. He went all out. For each woman in his growing circle—Daisy, Natasha, Jemma, Susan, Clarice, Lady Sif, Carol, Pepper, Laurel, Kira, Mei, and Claire— and many more to come—he purchased entire wardrobes. From casual loungewear to luxury formal gowns, high-end combat-ready bodysuits, seductive lingerie sets, winter coats lined with real fur, and dazzling cocktail dresses, no category was left untouched.
He even bought multiple variants in every shade, fit, and fabric, tailored to their personalities. Fierce crimson silks and elegant black leather for Natasha. Soft lavender and pristine whites for Jemma. Ethereal blue dresses laced with silver thread for Susan Storm. Gritty, sleek streetwear for Daisy. Ethnic-chic styles with golden embroidery for Carol. Even Lady Sif received a modern twist on Asgardian battle fashion—stitched in rare materials, yet fashionable for Earth.
Every item was catalogued and stored in system space with magical preservation seals. The total number of outfits likely numbered over five hundred, and still, Aiden felt he hadn't bought enough.
By the end of it, Aiden had spent millions. The system space was now a treasure vault of dresses, robes, boots, lace, furs, heels, and secrets.
"If I didn't think these clothes would hug some of the sexiest women I've ever met," he muttered as he poured himself wine and flopped onto the hotel suite's sofa, shirt open and skin kissed by golden city light, "I'd never have put up with shopping for so long."
After a long bath that filled the room with steam and the faint scent of exotic oils, Aiden dressed down in a more casual luxury suit. Rene was handed a thick envelope of money without ceremony.
"Broadway's open tonight. Opera," Aiden said, grabbing a coat. "Not your thing, right?"
Rene snorted. "I'll pass. You enjoy your... high notes."
"Don't spend it all on one girl. Or do. I don't care."
Aiden's slid through Manhattan traffic like a ghost, depositing him in front of the historic Broadway Opera House. The chandeliers inside glittered like stars suspended by strings. The crowd was elite. Class dripped from every seat. And Aiden, though seated front and center, felt disconnected.
He tried to focus. He admired the actors. Their movements. Their voices. But the language, the pacing, the metaphor-heavy performance—he just couldn't sink into it.
Eventually, he stood and left. Quietly. Elegantly.
The cool night air of New York kissed the skin with its gentle breeze, but the streets remained alive with energy. After a disappointing and somewhat dull evening at the Broadway opera, Aiden strolled down the city sidewalk, half-lost in thought, half-looking for something more entertaining to fill the night. That was when it happened.
A sudden bump. Light, yet deliberate. A waft of perfume lingered in the air, floral and warm, and his gaze fell on the woman who had collided into him. She had short brunette hair that framed her delicate face, expressive eyes that hinted at layered thoughts beneath a calm exterior, and a confident stance that made her more than just another beautiful stranger.
Soft.
Fragrant.
"I'm so sorry," she said, bowing her head slightly. "I was in a hurry. Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Aiden replied, brushing off his coat. "No harm done."
But he looked again. The face. The eyes. There was something off about her. Something—familiar.
But she didn't walk away. Instead, her lips curved into a small, amused smile.
"Are you sure? Or... maybe we should talk somewhere else," she added, her words dipping into a tone that demanded attention without force.
He studied her. Her posture was too relaxed. Her tone is too calm. She wasn't apologizing. She was probing.
There it was. That voice. Aiden immediately recognized it—the subtle pressure, the nudge at his consciousness. A suggestion wrapped in innocence. But he wasn't just any regular person. His mind was fortified by experiences, Reality Ring, and powers far beyond what she could understand.
He tilted his head, pretending to hesitate. "It's alright."
"No," she said with a persuasive calm, stepping closer, her eyes gently locking with his. "I think we should really talk somewhere else."
Aiden smirked internally. Eden McCain. Real name: Sarah Ellis. The woman with the power of suggestion—to manipulate thoughts and decisions with nothing but her voice. One of the more subtly dangerous figures from the world of Heroes.
He gave a small nod and gestured for her to follow.
They walked in silence, turning away from the bright lights and into a quieter corner off the main streets. Aiden led her with confidence, letting her believe she was the one in control.
Sarah, or Eden, looked at him with slight disdain, as if annoyed she had to use her powers on someone like him. With a casual, hypnotic tone, she said, "Can you give me all the money you have?"
"Money?" Aiden echoed, blinking. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and casually handing her the thick bundle of cash. Her fingers snatched it quickly.
She rifled through it and looked back up with narrowed eyes. "Is this all you have? Didn't you just go on a spending spree of millions? Where are the clothes? Take me to see them."
So that's what this was about. Aiden inwardly chuckled. She must have been watching him earlier—seeing him spend millions on luxury dresses for hundreds of sizes and shapes of different women. Clothes that were now neatly sealed in his system space.
Still playing the role, he smiled faintly. "The clothes are in my hotel room. I'll take you to see them."
She looked pleased, smug even. Her steps behind him were confident as they returned to the luxury suite. As soon as the door clicked shut, Sarah stepped inside eagerly—only to pause.
The room was clean, luxurious, but devoid of the massive collection of dresses she had imagined. Her brows furrowed. She spun on her heel.
"Where are the clothes?" she demanded, annoyed.
But Aiden wasn't behind her. He had silently walked over to the wine cabinet and was calmly pouring two glasses.
"The clothes are with me," he said without looking at her, offering a glass. "If you wear them for me, I don't mind giving you a few."
Sarah's eyes widened, not in seduction, but in alarm. She didn't take the glass.
"You're not hypnotized?"
"You really thought a whisper would work on me?"
Her instincts kicked in, and she spun around to bolt. But she froze. A dark green wall that wasn't there before appeared and started to changed—twisting and contorting, turning dark green like an alien organism. It spread rapidly, sealing off the exit. A cell.
She backed away, eyes darting, looking for another escape. She tried to break the green walls with force, kicking, pounding, but nothing gave.
"What is this?! Let me out!" she shouted, her confident composure cracking into panic.
Aiden took a long sip of his wine before approaching slowly, like a lion who knew the prey was caged.
"Don't be anxious," he said, voice calm and cold. "The night is long, and we have plenty of time."
Sarah's heart raced. She wasn't used to being on the other side of control. But tonight, she had underestimated someone not from her world. Someone who played along with the game only to flip the board when the time was right.
Aiden smiled faintly, his eyes glowing with unreadable intent. "Tell me, Eden. Have you ever thought about what happens when the manipulator finds herself in someone else's illusion?"