Mizuki stepped into her walk-in closet, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. The air smelled faintly of lavender, a subtle scent from silk sachets tucked into the corners of the custom oak shelves. Her eyes skimmed the rows of dresses arranged by color and occasion, the fabrics shimmering under the soft glow of recessed lighting.
Each piece was a masterpiece—bespoke creations tailored precisely for her by designers who didn't cater to just anyone. There were no loud logos, no garish patterns meant to announce their worth to the world. These were garments that whispered exclusivity, each stitch a secret.
Her collection of shoes occupied an entire wall, displayed like art. From understated leather pumps to intricately hand-embroidered flats, they were creations of workshops so discreet that even the wealthiest would struggle to gain access. Beside them, shelves of handbags sat in quiet elegance, their craftsmanship apparent only to those who truly understood such things.
Mizuki ran her fingers lightly over a soft velvet gown, her thoughts wandering to the gala that evening. She was contemplating whether to wear it when Nancy's voice startled her.
"Still deciding?"
Mizuki turned, a faint smile touching her lips. Nancy stood at the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, her presence as familiar as the scent of lavender. As always, she hadn't bothered to knock. Mizuki didn't mind—she was used to Nancy's unceremonious entrances by now.
Nancy stepped inside, her own heels clicking in contrast to Mizuki's softer tone. She was wearing an elegant cocktail dress, its silhouette sleek and flattering. The deep emerald green fabric caught the light, and Mizuki recognized it immediately—it was one of the dresses she had insisted Nancy try during their last shopping spree in Amsterdam.
"You look stunning, as always," Mizuki said with a genuine smile.
Nancy returned the smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Instead, her gaze flicked to the towering shelves and racks that surrounded them, her expression tightening ever so slightly.
"You spoil me too much," Nancy replied, her tone light, though her words carried an edge. "This dress alone costs more than what I'd spend in a month. Sometimes I wonder how you even manage to choose."
Mizuki laughed softly, brushing off the comment. "It's easy when you've got the right people to guide you," she said, half-joking. "Besides, I enjoy our shopping trips. You always have an eye for what looks good on you."
Nancy's lips curved into a wry smile as she stepped closer, her fingers brushing against the sleeve of a tailored blazer hanging nearby. She didn't speak immediately, her attention caught by the texture of the fabric. For a fleeting moment, her expression shifted—her displeasure flaring in her eyes like a spark before it was quickly extinguished.
Mizuki noticed the look, though she didn't fully understand its meaning. "What's wrong?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
"Nothing," Nancy replied quickly, her tone a touch too breezy. "Just admiring your wardrobe. You've got… everything."
Mizuki hesitated, sensing an unspoken tension, but she decided to let it pass. "Only the best," she said lightly, reaching for another dress. "Help me decide—black velvet or silver silk for tonight?"
Nancy glanced at the options, her hand lingering on the silver silk gown. "This one," she said after a moment. "It's more… striking. You'll outshine everyone."
Mizuki laughed again, though there was an awkwardness to the sound. "As if that's the goal."
Nancy's smile returned, faint but genuine this time. "For someone like you, it just happens."
There was a pause, the kind that felt heavier than the moment warranted. Mizuki turned to the mirror, holding the dress against her frame, but her focus was split. She could feel Nancy's gaze on her, sharp and assessing in a way that felt unfamiliar.
"You've been traveling a lot lately," Nancy said after a while, breaking the silence. "Singapore, Amsterdam… how do you even keep track of everything?"
Mizuki shrugged, placing the dress on a nearby stand. "It's hectic, but I like the pace. It's where Pablo chose to settle and expand the business while our parents are still here to take charge of the main branch." She and Pablo had been married for five years by this time, and had settled in Singapore. She just flew back to the Netherlands to attend a gala. It was a reunion of sorts with her classmates in bridge school, ones she was not really excited or cared to see. But Nancy talked her into attending and they even shopped for Nancy's dress together. "You get used to it." Her tone softened. "I missed you while I was away, though. Things always feel more grounded when we're together."
Nancy's expression softened at that, her usual warmth returning. "I missed you too. It's not the same without you around."
They exchanged a smile, the moment easing some of the unspoken tension. But even as they chatted about the gala and the people they would see, Mizuki couldn't shake the memory of that fleeting hard glint in Nancy's eyes as she looked at her wardrobe.
The ballroom was a vision of opulence, the crystal chandelier casting fragmented light across the room. The air buzzed with conversation and the soft clinking of glasses. Mizuki wore the silver silk gown Nancy had chosen for her, the fabric hugging her form and shimmering under the warm glow of the lights. She smiled and laughed and danced, the perfect image of poise and privilege. Nancy was by her side, radiant in the emerald green dress, the envy of many.
But Mizuki couldn't shake the unease that clung to her like a shadow. Every now and then, she caught Nancy's gaze drifting—toward the chandelier above them, the glittering jewels adorning other women, and, most of all, toward Mizuki herself.
Later, Mizuki was chatting with a teacher when excused herself to return to the group of their former classmates. She had taken only a few steps when she heard their voices, their words stopping her in her tracks.
"She's such a pretentious little witch. Have you seen her dress? That's bespoke. If we didn't know better, we'd think she was the young lady and not the other way around. Nancy, I can't believe you're still putting up with Mizuki."
Mizuki froze, her ears straining to catch every word, her heart pounding so loudly she feared it would drown out their voices.
To her horror, Nancy's voice chimed in, sweet and familiar but laced with cruelty. "Oh, don't be mad. It's not like my family can't afford it. She's just like my little stay-at-home playmate. It's fine—it's not like she means any harm."
The words hit Mizuki like a slap, each one sharper than the last. Her breath caught in her throat, her vision blurring as the edges of the room seemed to close in on her.
In the quiet that followed, Mizuki's thoughts unraveled like threads from a fraying garment. Now she knew what was going on. Nancy had taken her identity and stepped on her name to elevate herself. She hated her but, at the same time, didn't want to lose control of her. It all made sense now. The way Nancy always hovered around her, always positioning herself just slightly above Mizuki, even in the most mundane conversations. The way she discouraged Mizuki from making new friends, subtly sowing seeds of doubt about anyone who came close. Mizuki had thought Nancy was protective, that she only wanted what was best for her. But no. Nancy wanted her isolated, dependent, and small—someone she could mold, someone she could control.
Mizuki's chest tightened, a mix of rage and humiliation flooding her. The weight of the silver gown felt suffocating now, its shimmer mocking her naivety. How had she been so blind? So foolish? Every shared laugh, every whispered secret, now felt like threads of a carefully woven web designed to trap her.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She longed to turn back, to confront Nancy, to demand an explanation. But what would it change? The truth was a chasm between them, one that no apology could bridge.
The laughter from the ballroom faded into the background as Mizuki turned and walked away, her silver gown trailing behind her like the remnants of a shattered illusion. She didn't need to hear Nancy's voice again to know it would only be more lies.