"Excuse me?"
Valeria stared at the woman, trying to make sure she hadn't misheard. Had she just been called a "slut"?
She snorted and glanced at the woman's nametag, which read "Clara Mosa."
"Clara, hm? So you're the designer of this dress?" Valeria asked, then looked at her face, which was gazing at her with arrogance.
"Exactly. And as the designer of this outfit, I don't want this dress worn by a low-class woman like you. A temptress who can only spread her legs to get money from rich men," she explained harshly to Valeria, judging the mafia's wife by her current appearance.
Of course, that surprised her. This was the first time a boutique had spoken rudely to her. She'd traveled all over the country and never encountered a single store that looked down on her. Didn't her current outfit show who she was?
"Heh, I'm wearing a brand that's even more famous than yours, and you still think I'm just a slut?" Valeria snorted in annoyance again at Clara's attitude.
