Mizuki leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other with an elegance that made the boutique's polished atmosphere seem like her natural domain. Her silver eyes drifted toward the counter, where a pile of designer clothes sat waiting to be paid for. Turning her gaze back to Nancy, she spoke casually, her tone light but laced with an unmistakable edge.
"So, what's the plan?" Mizuki asked, the faintest hint of amusement playing on her lips. "Are we paying, or are we just here to window shop?"
Nancy's face tensed, the veneer of control she wore so tightly beginning to crack. Her hand hesitated as she reached for her wallet, her fingers trembling. Mizuki watched her with quiet satisfaction, noting every small detail: the tightening of Nancy's jaw, the flicker of anxiety in her eyes, the subtle tremor of her hand.
Nancy finally pulled out her gold card, the metallic sheen catching the light as she reluctantly handed it to the sales assistant. Mizuki's gaze flicked briefly to the card before shifting back to the two girls standing beside Nancy—Sophia and Andrea. Both were glaring at Mizuki, their hostility palpable.
If they weren't so focused on her, Mizuki mused, perhaps they'd notice the glaring inconsistency in Nancy's show of wealth. A gold card, respectable as it was, didn't hold the same weight as the coveted black card—a true mark of elite status. In Europe, where Mizuki had spent years immersed in a culture that revered class and subtlety, the distinction was everything.
A gold card whispered aspiration, not dominance. It was a detail anyone paying attention might question, but Sophia and Andrea were too preoccupied with their disdain for Mizuki to see it.
Nancy's smile was strained as the sales assistant processed the transaction, handing her the receipt and a sleek bag emblazoned with the boutique's logo. "Thank you," Nancy murmured, her voice uncharacteristically subdued as she stepped away from the counter.
Mizuki rose from her seat, adjusting the strap of her clutch with deliberate grace. "Well," she said brightly, her tone carrying a faint note of mockery, "shall we move on? I wouldn't want to keep Sophia and Andrea waiting."
Her silver eyes gleamed with triumph as she turned toward the boutique's glass doors. Behind her, Nancy, Sophia, and Andrea exchanged uneasy glances. Mizuki didn't look back; she didn't need to. The unspoken tension hanging in the air was enough to tell her she had won this round.
"Hey, wait a minute," Andrea's irritated voice called out, breaking the silence.
Mizuki stopped and turned, her gaze calm but questioning. "What is it?"
Andrea crossed her arms, gesturing toward the bags Nancy held awkwardly by her side. "Can't you see the bags?"
"What about them?" Mizuki asked, her voice light but tinged with an edge sharp enough to cut.
Andrea huffed, glancing at Sophia for support. "Aren't you going to carry them?"
Mizuki's demeanor shifted in an instant. Her relaxed posture straightened, and the warmth in her expression evaporated, replaced by a coolness that made even the self-proclaimed mean girls hesitate.
"Why?" Mizuki's question was quiet but deliberate, her tone low enough to make Andrea falter.
"Isn't that your job?" Andrea pressed, though her confidence wavered under Mizuki's piercing gaze.
"My job?" Mizuki repeated, her silver eyes narrowing. The weight of her stare was enough to make Andrea take a small step back, her bravado fading.
Before the tension could escalate further, Nancy jumped in, her voice overly bright and nervous. "Of course, Mimi doesn't have to carry the bags!" she said, laughing awkwardly. "She's just teasing. Right, Mimi?"
Mizuki didn't answer immediately, her sharp gaze flicking to Nancy.
Nancy's nervous laugh faltered, but she pressed on. "Anyway, we don't need anyone to carry the bags. This is Wolfe Mall," she added, her tone unnaturally cheery.
Nancy wasn't wrong. Wolfe Mall catered to the elite, offering every convenience imaginable. Shop assistants were on hand to deliver purchases directly to the car, ensuring a seamless shopping experience. But Mizuki knew this wasn't about practicality. It was about control—a power play Nancy had used time and time again to assert dominance.
In the past, Nancy had insisted Mizuki carry her bags, feigning attachment to her purchases. "I just get so excited about my new clothes, Mimi! I can't stand to part with them," she would say, her tone dripping with false sweetness. And Mizuki, always obliging, had complied, shouldering the weight of both the bags and Nancy's ego.
No more.
Mizuki stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. "If you're so concerned about the bags," she said, her voice smooth but cold, "why don't you carry them yourself?"
Sophia bristled, her confidence faltering. "Why are you being so difficult?" she muttered.
Mizuki tilted her head slightly, her silver eyes glinting with amusement. "Difficult?" she echoed. "I just assumed Nancy would want to keep her purchases close. Isn't that what she always says?"
Nancy's forced smile froze, and for a moment, the tension was almost palpable.
"Fine!" Nancy burst out, waving over a nearby shop assistant. "We'll have them delivered to the car. It's not a big deal."
The assistant approached with professional efficiency, taking the bags from Nancy and assuring her they would be handled with care. As the assistant walked away, Nancy turned back to Mizuki, her expression a mix of guilt and unease.
Mizuki didn't spare her another glance. Turning on her heel, she strode toward the boutique's exit, her posture poised and her movements deliberate. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, and for once, Nancy, Sophia, and Andrea were at a loss for words.
As they exited the boutique, Mizuki's thoughts swirled with purpose. She had spent years enduring Nancy's games—always playing along just to keep the peace. One of her regrets in her past life was that she died before she could teach Nancy a lesson. Back then, she had been in denial, too afraid of the changes that prevented her from facing the truth, and would often shift her focus to other issues just to escape. When Pablo died, she felt too lost to deal with Nancy—and then, she died too. Mizuki reckoned that, knowing her parents, they would end up giving Nancy a huge sum to "console" her after Mizuki's death—enough to let Nancy live like a true princess without ever fearing that Mizuki would ruin everything for her.
Just the thought irked Mizuki immensely. She had finally put the scheming pauper in her place, and what had transpired at the boutique earlier was only the beginning. Nancy's lies—her carefully constructed image of wealth and status—had begun to unravel, and Mizuki was determined to pull every thread loose before the day ended. For her, the truth wasn't merely a tool for revenge; it was a weapon of reclamation.
Mizuki had no intention of simply walking away. She would expose Nancy for who she truly was and let them all know who the real young lady was.
Nancy, Sophia, and Andrea had underestimated her for too long. By the time the day was over, they wouldn't just know Mizuki's name—they would understand her power, her truth, and her rightful place in the world they thought they ruled.
With that resolve burning in her chest, Mizuki's silver eyes gleamed with quiet triumph as she led the way through the mall, the sound of her heels echoing like a victor's drumbeat.