Erin merely imagined it on herself, and her cheeks turned into molten lava, wishing she could bury her face in the fireplace to cool down.
"Madam said she specifically commissioned the tailor to make this according to your measurements," Theresa continued in a deadpan manner, as if it were not "the Emperor's new clothes," but an indestructible war robe. "According to Madam, men have practically zero defense against this kind of 'half-revealing' gear. It's no exaggeration to say, you just have to wear it to win."
"Wear it... to win?" Erin's breathing became rapid, her brain teetered on the edge of oxygen deprivation, and she reached out to take the garment.
Theresa gave her an encouraging look once more.
"That's right! For the future of the Campbell family, please change!"
Unfortunately—
Theresa had overestimated Erin's boldness in that regard, and ultimately, shame pierced through the fortress called reason.
