As soon as they stepped into the boutique, the air shifted. The elegant lighting and pristine display racks seemed to hum with quiet sophistication. A group of polished shop assistants, dressed impeccably in sleek uniforms, approached with welcoming smiles. At Wolfe family establishments, the standard for service was unmatched. Each assistant underwent months of rigorous training to become experts in fashion, color matching, and the delicate art of customer service.
"Good afternoon," they greeted in unison, their eyes flickering to Mizuki almost immediately. Though she rarely visited the mall's boutiques, every employee had been trained to recognize her face. Mizuki Wolfe, the heiress, was more than just another customer. Spotting her wasn't a mere coincidence; it was a matter of preparation.
Mizuki offered a polite nod, her lips curving into a faint smile before heading directly to the boutique's waiting area. Designed with plush seating, soft lighting, and an array of refreshments, it exuded comfort and luxury. Within moments, an assistant was at her side, placing a porcelain teacup and an artful plate of pastries on the small table before her.
Nancy, Sophia, and Andrea lingered by the racks of designer clothes, their chatter tapering off as they watched Mizuki settle into her seat. This wasn't what Nancy had expected. Mizuki, usually a dependable sidekick on shopping trips, would typically shadow her every move, offering enthusiastic opinions and holding selected items as though she were the one buying them. Today, however, Mizuki's indifference was palpable.
Nancy adjusted the strap of her handbag and approached cautiously, her usual sunny demeanor tinged with uncertainty. "Mimi?" she called sweetly, using the nickname she'd coined. "Aren't you going to look around with us?"
Mizuki glanced up from her tea, her silver eyes cool and unreadable. "No," she replied simply. "I'm just a tagalong. I'm not buying anything."
Her response hung in the air, stark against the boutique's refined quiet. Sophia and Andrea exchanged glances before breaking into amused laughter.
"Of course, you're not buying anything," Sophia said with a smirk. "How would you even pay?"
Andrea chuckled in agreement, her tone dripping with condescension.
The shop assistants, trained to ignore client drama, focused their attention on Nancy instead. As Nancy's cheeks flushed faintly, she forced a laugh and quickly redirected the conversation. "Ah, of course, she doesn't have to buy anything if she doesn't want to," she said, her tone overly bright. She turned back to the racks, picking up a flowing dress to admire.
Mizuki sipped her tea in silence, her gaze drifting to the boutique's glass walls, where muted sunlight streamed in. She caught the faint reflections of Nancy's friends, their smug glances directed at her. Their muttered comments—"pretentious," "useless"—drifted just within earshot, but Mizuki barely registered them. Their words were nothing more than static, faint and meaningless in a space she no longer cared to occupy.
While Nancy busied herself trying on outfits, Mizuki's attention was drawn to the boutique manager, who emerged from a back office. Upon spotting Mizuki, the manager's face lit up.
"Mizuki! It's been a while," the manager greeted warmly, approaching with a smile.
"It has," Mizuki replied, setting her teacup down. "How have you been?"
Their conversation flowed easily, the familiarity of past interactions evident. The manager, who had often served Mizuki and her mother during their visits, was one of the few individuals in the mall Mizuki genuinely liked. Their exchange, lighthearted and pleasant, was a welcome distraction.
Meanwhile, Nancy was in her element. Half an hour later, she had accumulated a small mountain of extravagant outfits. Sophia and Andrea hovered nearby, showering her with compliments.
"You always find the best pieces," Andrea sighed, holding up a sequined top Nancy had picked. "If I bought this much, my parents would freeze my allowance."
Nancy laughed, clearly relishing the attention. Being envied and admired came as naturally to her as breathing.
Turning to Mizuki, Nancy flashed her brightest smile, expecting her to rise and take charge of the next step as she always did. When Mizuki didn't move, her smile faltered.
"Mimi," Nancy began, her tone sugar-coated, "can you—"
"Are you finished?" Mizuki interrupted, her tone calm but unmistakably firm.
Nancy blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Yes, I think so."
"Then pay for them so we can go," Mizuki said, setting her teacup down with deliberate care. Her silver eyes met Nancy's, the faintest flicker of challenge in their depths.
The boutique seemed to hold its breath. Nancy froze, her carefully composed smile slipping. "P-Pay for it?" she stammered, her voice trembling as if the words themselves were unfamiliar. She clutched her handbag, her knuckles white against the smooth leather.
"Yeah," Mizuki replied, her tone serene but unwavering. "Aren't those your clothes?" She nodded toward the counter, where the shop assistants had neatly folded the garments. The question was posed with an air of innocence, yet it cut through the tension like a blade.
"I-I—" Nancy faltered, glancing helplessly at Sophia and Andrea, who exchanged uncomfortable looks.
Sophia stepped forward, her voice sharp. "What's with that attitude? Nancy already picked her clothes. Why don't you just settle the bill so we can move on to the next shop?"
Andrea chimed in, her tone equally biting. "Right. You didn't even help her pick anything. Why did you even bother coming along? Just to sit there and drink tea?"
Their words, intended to diminish, only amused Mizuki. She tilted her head, her lips curving into a sweet but faintly mocking smile.
"I didn't want to come," Mizuki replied softly. "Nancy insisted." Her silver eyes glimmered with unspoken defiance. "And what bill am I supposed to settle? I didn't buy anything, did I?"
Sophia frowned, caught off guard. "Don't you always carry Nancy's wallet? How else is she supposed to pay when you have it with you?"
Oh? Mizuki's smile widened ever so slightly. So this was the story Nancy had spun to cover her tracks? Clever, but not clever enough.
"I didn't realize I had your wallet, Nancy," Mizuki said, feigning confusion. "When did you ever give it to me?" She gestured toward Nancy's designer handbag, its polished surface gleaming under the boutique's lights. "Besides, why would anyone need someone else to carry their wallet when they have such a big bag—much bigger than mine?"
Nancy's face flushed crimson, her mouth opening and closing as if searching for an answer. Sophia and Andrea glanced at each other, their bravado fading under Mizuki's calm, cutting logic.
"I-I never said you had my wallet," Nancy stammered, laughing nervously. "They just misunderstood—right, girls?"
"Right," Mizuki echoed, her voice as sweet as honey but laced with quiet steel. She leaned back, crossing her legs with deliberate ease. "Well, it's your choice, Nancy. If you want the clothes, you pay for them. If not, I suppose we're done here."
The silence that followed was deafening. Nancy hesitated, her carefully constructed image crumbling under the weight of Mizuki's gaze. For the first time, the power dynamics had shifted, and Mizuki felt a flicker of satisfaction watching Nancy scramble to regain control.