Starting With an SSS-Rank Goddess Summon!

Chapter 384: ...Require The Strongest Wills [Bonus Chapter]

Silas sat entirely motionless on the leather sofa.

His eyes, rimmed with the golden rings, methodically scanned both women from head to toe.

He took in Harper’s wild breathtaking athletic allure... the exposed skin, the confident posture, the raw energy radiating from her smile.

Then he took in Seraphina’s regal jaw-dropping elegance... the aristocratic tailoring, the devastating curves accentuated by the crimson silk, the high-society presence that could silence an entire court.

Master Jean, Lydia, Emily, and even Reginald all held their collective breath, the entire room suspended in agonizing high-stakes anticipation.

Silas cleared his throat, leaning back against the cushions.

"Harper," Silas began calmly. "The cut is incredible. The violet silk matches your lightning mana perfectly, and the mobility on the split skirt fits your combat style... It highlights your strength without sacrificing aesthetics. It’s an easy 9 out of 10."

Harper’s face lit up with a massive beaming smile, her fists pumping slightly in victory.

Silas turned his head toward the crimson noble.

’Now let’s use a lot of grammar for this one, since I’m speaking to a noble, I’ll butter her up.’

"Seraphina," Silas continued, maintaining his objective tone. "The phoenix silk and the gold filigree are practically bespoke for your aura... The structure of the bodice and the open-back tailoring are flawless. It completely elevates your presence from an elite Lord to a literal empress. The craftsmanship and color harmony put it at a 9.5 out of 10."

The silence in the room violently snapped.

"YES!" Seraphina gasped softly, her hands flying to her chest as a brilliant radiant smile completely broke through her haughty noble face.

She shot Harper a look of pure undisputed triumph, her eyes gleaming with vindication.

"I won! The authority of House Bloom remains supreme!"

Behind her, Emily the junior maid aggressively pumped her fist in the air, silently celebrating her imminent double-salary promotion.

On the other side of the carpet, Harper’s energetic posture instantly deflated.

Her shoulders slumped, her lower lip puffing out into a massive, deeply irritated pout as she glared at the floor.

"A 9.5?!" Harper grumbled, crossing her arms tightly under her chest. "Half a point?! You gave her half a point just because she’s wearing three extra yards of curtain fabric?!"

"The tailoring was objectively cleaner, Harper," Silas pointed out, unbothered by her whining.

"Oh, hell no!" Harper snapped, her competitive fire roaring back to life with a vengeance.

She turned violently toward the racks of clothing. "That was just round one! We are not stopping here! Lydia, pull the leather battle-corsets! Pull the backless velvet evening gowns! Pull everything on the rack! We’re doing a full montage!"

Seraphina’s eyes narrowed into slits of pure aggression.

"You think you can surpass me with brute volume?! Emily, bring out the ancestral starlight collection! I will crush her in every single aesthetic metric!"

Silas blinked, a cold sweat suddenly breaking out on the back of his neck.

"Wait, hold on, that wasn’t an invitation to—"

SWISH! SWISH!

Both dressing room curtains violently slammed shut in his face.

What followed over the next ninety minutes was a grueling gauntlet of high-society warfare.

SWISH!

Harper emerged wearing a sleek midnight-black leather combat suit lined with glowing purple mythril conduits.

The trousers were painted on like liquid latex, emphasizing the athletic curves of her legs, while the cropped jacket featured an open neckline that drove the stylists into a frenzy.

"That’s a bit too aggressive for a formal dinner," Silas commented. "I’ll give you a 9.1."

SWISH!

Seraphina stepped out in a daring, emerald-green velvet halter gown with a neckline that plunged nearly to her navel, held together by a single, enchanted diamond clasp.

Her crimson hair tumbled over her bare shoulders like liquid fire.

"Stunning color contrast," Silas rated, rubbing his chin. "9.3."

SWISH!

Harper walked out in a semi-translucent, white-and-silver starlight cocktail dress that shimmered with micro-auroras every time she took a step.

The back was completely non-existent, held up by two microscopic silver chains crossing her shoulder blades.

"Daring," Silas noted, nodding slowly. "9.4."

SWISH!

Seraphina appeared wearing a high-collared, form-fitting sapphire-blue qipao woven from lunar silk, featuring twin waist-high side slits that gave a clear view of her long pale thighs with every stride.

"It shows your high noble elegance," Silas sighed. "9.6."

Outfits flew across the showroom floor in a blur of colors, fabrics, and magical enchantments.

The maids sprinted back and forth with armfuls of designer silks, steam irons, and accessory cases.

By the time the frenzy finally began to wind down, five massive, gold-plated rolling clothing racks stood behind the sofa, completely packed to the brim with over eighty distinct designer outfits, evening gowns, and combat-silk ensembles.

Silas sat slouched on the leather sofa, sweatdropping profusely as he stared at the mountain of merchandise.

His eyes were glazed over, his brain practically fried from having to generate eighty distinct politically neutral fashion critiques in under two hours.

"Are you two finally done?" Silas groaned, holding his head in his hands. "Because I’m pretty sure we just bought out the GDP of a small nation."

Seraphina, currently wearing the sapphire-blue qipao, strode gracefully out of her dressing suite, looking completely energized by her string of high ratings.

She walked directly up to the sofa, grabbed Silas’s large hand, and forcefully pulled him up to his feet.

"We are finished with our selections," Seraphina declared proudly, turning her sharp gaze toward Master Jean and the gathered staff. "Now, it is his turn... Bring out your premier menswear collections immediately. I want him dressed in the finest enchanted silks this establishment has to offer."

Silas immediately tried to pull his hand back, shaking his head frantically.

"No. Absolutely not. I told you, I have plenty of clothes at home. I am not buying a hundred-thousand-credit shirt just to spill sauce on it."

"Silence, Silas," Seraphina shut him down with an authoritative flick of her wrist. "You are the prospective consort of House Bloom. You cannot wander through the city looking like an unawakened scrap-mechanic. It is an insult to my visual sensibilities."

Harper stepped up on Silas’s other side, wearing her white starlight cocktail dress. Surprisingly, she aggressively nodded in agreement with the noblewoman.

"For once, the bitch is right," Harper chimed in, crossing her arms and eyeing Silas up and down. "You have an amazing body, Silas, but your wardrobe is completely depressing... You wear the same three black hoodies every single day so we’re getting you styled."

Master Jean bowed deeply, a theatrical flourish accompanying his smile.

"Worry not, Lady Bloom, Lady Whitmore! The moment Lord Graves entered our sanctuary, I personally curated a bespoke collection of Tier-4 Shadow-Silk tunics, enchanted leather dusters, and mythril-threaded formal trousers tailored precisely to his physical form... They are waiting in the Master Suite."

"Excellent," Seraphina nodded.

She turned toward the dressing room with her crimson eyes flashing. "I will personally assist him with the fittings."

Harper’s head snapped toward Seraphina, her violet eyes flaring with instant violent hostility.

"Excuse me?! In your dreams, Princess! I am his official date today! I will be the one dressing him!"

"He is my designated property under ancestral law!" Seraphina argued fiercely, stepping into Harper’s space. "I have the right to inspect the fit of his garments!"

"You just want an excuse to see him shirtless again, you perverted red-haired stalker!" Harper yelled.

"And you don’t, you shameless lightning degenerate?!" Seraphina screamed back.

Silas let out a heavy exasperated breath, raising both hands to interject.

"I am a fully grown man. I possess fully functional arms and opposable thumbs... I can physically put a shirt on by myself without either of you hovering over me."

Both women simultaneously turned their heads, glared at him with terrifying unblinking intensity, and shouted in perfect unison.

"STAY OUT OF THIS, SILAS!"

Silas blinked, slowly closing his mouth.

’Right... Never mind.’

Harper aggressively planted her hands on her hips, leaning her face inches away from Seraphina’s nose. "We settle this right now! Standard rules!"

Seraphina sneered, lifting her chin. "State your terms."

"Rock, Paper, Scissors!" Harper challenged loudly. "One throw! Winner gets to dress Silas in the Master Suite, loser stays out here with the luggage!"

"A barbaric commoner game," Seraphina scoffed, though she instantly raised her right hand, her fingers coiling into a tight competitive fist. "Fine. Prepare to weep, Harper Whitmore."

Silas watched in flabbergasted disbelief as two of the most powerful Lords prepared to decide his physical autonomy through middle-school playground tactics.

"ROCK! PAPER! SCISSORS! SHOOT!" they shouted together.

THWACK!

Seraphina threw out a flat open palm... Paper.

Harper threw out a sharp two-fingered split... Scissors.

The room fell dead silent.

Seraphina stared down at her open hand in soul-crushing horror.

Her crimson eyes bulged, her mouth dropping open as her noble mind completely failed to process the reality of her defeat.

"N-No..." Seraphina choked out, her voice cracking. "That’s impossible... The probability..."

"AHAHAHAHAHA!"

Harper threw her head back in a deafening roar of pure triumph.

She violently turned toward Seraphina, pulling down her lower eyelid with her index finger and sticking her tongue out in the most immature, obnoxious victory taunt humanly possible.

"BLEEEEEEH! IN YOUR FACE, PRINCESS! SCISSORS CUTS PAPER! I WIN!"

"You cheated!" Seraphina shrieked, her face turning bright red with pure fury. "You delayed your release by three milliseconds! It was a false throw!"

"Sore loser! Stay mad!" Harper cackled.

Without wasting a single second, Harper spun around, grabbed Silas firmly by the wrist with one hand, snatched the heavy armful of bespoke designer menswear from Master Jean with the other, and forcefully dragged the towering Lord straight into the Master Dressing Suite.

SLAM!

The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place with a definitive chunk.

"HARPER Whitmore! OPEN THIS DOOR IMMEDIATELY!" Seraphina’s enraged voice hammered against the heavy wood from the outside, accompanied by the muffled thump of her stilettos kicking the frame. "I WILL BURN THIS SUITE TO THE GROUND!"

Inside the spacious, soundproofed dressing room, Harper paid the exterior threats zero attention.

She turned around, tossing the massive pile of expensive silk shirts, leather pants, and mythril belts onto a velvet chaise lounge with a casual flick of her wrist.

The energetic Lightning Lord stepped forward, stopping barely inches from Silas’s chest.

Her cheeks were flushed a brilliant, radiant shade of pink, but her glowing violet eyes sparkled with mischievous victorious delight.

She reached down, grabbing a crisp, form-fitting charcoal-black button-down shirt woven from enchanted shadow-silk, resting her other hand firmly on her hip as she looked Silas up and down with an unapologetic wicked grin.

"Alright, handsome," Harper purred, tossing the shirt lightly from one hand to the other. "Strip down. We don’t have all day."

Silas stood in the center of the plush hand-woven rug, looking down at Harper with an expression of pure deadpan resignation.

"You really enjoy playing with fire, don’t you?" Silas muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "If Seraphina burns this establishment to the ground, I’m listing you as an accomplice on the damage reports... I’m not paying for shit."

Harper let out an amused melodic snort.

She casually tossed the armful of bespoke menswear onto the chaise lounge, resting one hand firmly on her slender hip while holding a charcoal-black button-down shirt woven from enchanted shadow-silk in the other.

Her glowing violet eyes danced with unchecked mischief.

"Let the princess kick the door until her heels snap," Harper purred, taking a slow, confident step closer.

Her lavender scent, laced with the sharp scent of her lightning mana, rolled over his senses. "She lost the throw fair and square. Now, stop stalling. I told you out there... strip down. We don’t have all day, and I am not letting you walk out of here looking like you just clocked out of a scrap-metal sorting facility."

Silas stared at her for a long quiet second.

’Haah... It’ll be a waste of time to argue.’

He realized that arguing with the energetic Lightning Lord in an enclosed space was a pointless exercise.

"Fine," Silas sighed. "Turn around."

"Not happening," Harper shot back instantly, flashing a shameless radiant grin that bared her small fangs. "I’m your official stylist for this round. A proper fitting requires visual oversight from step one."

Silas rolled his eyes, letting out a heavy breath.

’Whatever. It’s not like my body is the most perfect one in the world. I don’t mind either...’

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